Act 8: Let It Roar

Foreword:

What a person flaunts reveals what they lack inside.

Dale Carnegie | How to Win Friends and Influence People

[Part 1: Food Program]

When the induction cooker is powered up to 2200 watts, a layer of high-temperature steam is generated between the pork chops and the frying pan, resulting in juicy, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside pork chops.

After separating the meat from the tendons and blood vessels with a knife, Jason Megan further processed the meat, dividing it into smaller, more delicate pieces before serving it to the captives.

Haitang looked fearful as the brightly colored food was brought before him—his thigh, flesh from his own body.

Jason Megan's meticulous cooking, the swift handling of the meat, and the irresistible aroma when it came out of the pot—the smell of protein mixed with the oil and nitrites of the blood fungus—all of this cracked the cannibal's heart.

It's always been the blood-sucking monsters that eat people; there's no reason for humans to deal with them.

At first, Haitang took the nameless man's threat as a joke, until the gunsmith returned to his old trade, picking and choosing on the beast's thigh with his butcher's knife, finally cutting off a piece of brightly colored, plump leg meat. Haitang finally broke down.

"I want to make a special statement," the gunsmith said, having Mr. Harman raise his arm to tilt the phone camera up a bit, "That we are cooking up a bloodthirsty monster. The thing hanging on the wall can no longer be considered human; it has lost its human rights. So this video can be viewed as a food show for all ages."

The gunsmith smiled and greeted the governor.

"By the time you see this video, the matter may have already ended. Here, we can give a shout-out to several food and grain manufacturers in Forty-One District."

Hey Jason!

As they say this, the camera pans to Jason Megan's side—

Mr. Jason was clearly a bit shy; his face was pale in the video footage, and he seemed very nervous. Neither his wolf-like eyes nor his personality were suited to facing the camera directly.

He awkwardly described the simple kitchen.

"Our main course today is the leg meat of a Blood-giving Monster. The gunsmith specifically chose the right leg because this monster is right-handed, a typical right-handed creature."

"Some longtime viewers who want to eat at the banquet might ask, generally speaking, limbs that have been subjected to strenuous exercise and exertion to the limit seem to taste sour and not very palatable."

At that moment, Jason beckoned the camera to follow him in, holding a bottle of mirin soy sauce.

"We can add some white sugar, honey, or fructose, as well as Denton's seasonings. I also came to Forty-One District for another reason: to see Greenstone People's aged soybean soy sauce. You can't buy this anywhere else, and it's extremely expensive to buy online."

Jason told Harman to lower his head so that the camera could focus on Haitang's right leg.

"As you can see, although this is a piece of red meat, and the texture doesn't seem to be as good as the left leg, but..."

As he said this, Jason took out a knife, cut a gash in Haitang's left leg, and took a small basin to collect the blood.

Haitang immediately struggled in pain, but his body was out of control. Sharp objects had pierced his joints and major tendons. In just a few seconds, the intense feeling of powerlessness brought him back to calm.

Jason compared the two wounds and gave a detailed explanation.

"To provide energy for the right leg, there will be more fat on the right side of the body. The gunsmith used to be an excellent butcher."

Jiang Xueming: "It is now too."

Jason immediately corrected himself. "Yes, yes, that's true now too. His technique for cutting and removing flesh is very sophisticated. Holy Blood is a fusion of the Vita Imprint and the DNA of various calamity beasts, and it also contains many characteristics similar to single-stranded fungi to control the energy balance of the recipient's body."

"So the gunsmith took this piece of meat, which was almost the fattest and most tender part of the animal."

"I used two types of wine to awaken its fungal characteristics. One is the Red Stone People's Baiweifang Cellar Reserve, called [Brotherhood], which is a barley spirit with a very strong aroma. The other is the wine from the Greenstone People around our Forty District. I chose the new wine from last winter's batch of Willick brand. The sun is intense here, and the nights are cold, so the grapes are very sweet, which can produce very impressive wines."

"After the flesh of the blood-donating unit is invigorated by alcohol, the sacred blood will naturally begin to secrete a sweet and fresh flavor."

"Baiweifang's barley spirits will make it a bit saltier, and the wine will neutralize its acidity."

"For these two chicken thighs, I used two different spice techniques. One was to combine thyme with the gaminess of the chicken gizzard to create the unique bloody aroma of the Madness Butterfly Sect, allowing this strongly flavored dish to get straight to the point."

"Another way to use spices is to bake milk with honey, then add golden maltose flowers as a garnish. I'll have the post-production team put the online store links for the milk and honey below the video."

Finally, there are the drinks to accompany the meal, along with berries and vegetables.

"Enough! Enough! Enough! Enough!" Haitang, with a wind chime stuffed in his mouth, continued to growl hysterically, almost delirious, fear threatening to break him.

Imagine a chef who hangs you up like an ingredient, dismembers you while you're still conscious, and then cooks you, explaining the cooking methods and the strengths and weaknesses of each ingredient in detail. This process is slow, painful, and most importantly—

--The gunsmith seemed determined not to stop; he wanted to cut more meat and make more dishes.

The dish had to be served plate by plate to Haitang, so that while this blood-bearing monster lost its essence and felt hunger, it would also swallow its saliva as it looked at its own food.

Jiang Xueming: "You want to confess and get leniency? No need, there's really no need."

Haitang: "Kill me, kill me!"

Jiang Xueming: "I only have one question, what's in the suitcase?"

The box has been sent to the freezer compartment. Jiang Xueming is very sensitive to explosives. It doesn't have the mechanical chirping of a spring, the sound of a steel wire, or a balancing tilt trigger mechanism. If it were an electronic fuse, then freezing it would be fine.

No matter how capable the Immortals are, they couldn't possibly obtain a miniature nuclear bomb in Ming De's territory. Such a small box, unless it contains explosives with extremely high energy density, would be a piece of cake for Fragrant Dream.

"I don't know... I... I don't know! Can you kill me? Please kill me..." Haitang sobbed, tears welling in her eyes, "Don't let him... don't let him near me... please..."

The poor creature looked at Jason Megan, never wanting to suffer the pain of separation from its child again.

"However, I still don't recommend you try making this dish at home." Jason's tone turned icy as he ended the recording. "The high temperatures in a home kitchen can't kill the Vita Imprint unless you're prepared to burn the meat to a crisp. In short, there's a risk of eating it."

Jiang Xueming said nothing and nodded to Jason.

Jason Megan grinned. "Here it comes! My favorite part!"

Haitang's eyes lit up--

--Are you going to end my life?

Is unification imminent?

Finally, we're going to be unified!?

But the anticipated peace never came; only the flickering flames danced and sang.

The gunsmith used whatever materials he could find, making a simple water pump circulation machine from the underfloor heating pipes. He also took the showerhead from the bathroom and used the very expensive White Lady freeze-dried powder from the Moon God Cup era, about 400 grams, worth 4,118 Hui Stone Currency. His wife would scold him for being a spendthrift.

These White Lady products entered the water circulation system of the underfloor heating system, splashed out from the showerhead, and heated by the water heater to a temperature of 91 degrees Celsius, just enough to make coffee release its aroma. It soaked the scalp of the Haitang, and the medicinal properties of White Lady products impacted the delicate balance between the Holy Blood and the Vita Imprint.

A large brazier was placed at Haitang's feet, slowly roasting the ogre over a low flame of around 400 degrees Celsius, intending to make its death both slow and painful.

Mr. Harman asked, "Isn't that a bit cruel?"

"He's such a kind man," the gunsmith exclaimed. "He must not have watched Lawrence Madison's torture live."

Jason and the gunsmith stood shoulder to shoulder, sighing together, "If you want to deal with demons, you need the methods of the King of Hell."

The delicate balance between water and fire, the back-and-forth tug-of-war between life and death, transformed into an extreme torturous pleasure, repeatedly destroying Haitang's vocal cords, and then, in his dying moments, causing him to let out a few shrill screams.

Mr. Harman swallowed hard. The strange noises that rang out from time to time could shatter the glass in the room. The psychic energy emanating from the tortured person before death caused the room temperature to plummet, and a layer of frost had formed on the smooth wooden floor.

The instant the Holy Blood collapsed, the Immortals's minions tensed, their skin rapidly withering away. Not a single bright red butterfly flew out, and no virus remained. They turned into fine pink sand, which immediately ignited upon falling into the brazier, transforming into purplish-red flames and disappearing without a trace.

Yes, he's dead!

[Part ②: Not Enough Intelligence]

A crack appeared in Mr. Harman's phone camera lens; it was the high-pitched screams of Haitang before her death that shattered the lens glass.

However, the video was preserved and will become new material for Guangling Zhixi rapid reaction force's propaganda department and public areas, playing it on a loop every day.

Mr. Harman turned around, looking confused, and asked the two VIPs.

"That's it? He's dead? And then what? Don't you two intend to get any useful information out of him?"

Jiang Xueming frankly told him, "From the very beginning, I never intended for him to confess. He was just being presumptuous—babbling and shouting, 'I won't say anything.' Who does this guy think he is? The President of the United States? Do I need his VISA card? Or his online payment password?"

Jason Megan shared this attitude. "Interrogation is too inefficient; it's better to investigate yourself."

In the years of expeditionary campaigns, many prisoners were captured during the process of eradicating the Madness Butterfly Sect. The gunsmith summarized a complete set of execution methods, but there was no method of forced confession. Most of these henchmen of the Madness Butterfly Sect were not afraid of death, and their minds were filled with all sorts of strange things. The information obtained through forced confession was of little practical significance.

They can use clever language skills to tell a hundred truths, but if even one lie is mixed in, it will be fatal to the soldiers.

Gunsmiths never believe the lies of their enemies, even if these blood-bearing units weep and swear to repent, swear blood oaths, and even mutilate themselves to prove their innocence.

There were only two exceptions: Flavia and Duran. Moreover, these two blood-granting units were only able to be exonerated and go ashore after years of military service and corvée labor under Victor's control.

From the very beginning, the moment Haitang was defeated, all that awaited him was a brutal massacre.

It means leaving no possibility for the virus to spread, and painfully and slowly disappearing from this world.

As for what he says, what intelligence he reveals, what morality or righteousness he talks about, or his attempt to use self-interest to save his life, none of that matters.

The gunsmith simply wouldn't listen.

The Immortals's Wings of Light are dead, but his equipment will speak. His clothes, his shopping records, his phone, and Bluetooth pairing devices will speak for him, finishing what he didn't say.

Pellegrini's turn has ended.

There were just too many clues in the room, far too many.

Haitang's equipment included carrying gear, but no bulletproof vest or firearms. These items were contraband in the Moon God Cup region, so Pellegrini couldn't obtain them either. Previously, when he went to Mali Pero's house, the soldiers' weapons had never entered the city; they were all hidden in outposts in the wilderness.

Pellegrini, who secretly orchestrates events from behind the scenes, is one of the most intelligent among the Immortals.

At this moment, he was also vaguely worried—

--With modern imaging technology, such as cameras, high-speed cameras, electronic eyes, and chemical tracers, coupled with the tracking ability of the lapis lazuli wolf, it seems that no one can completely remain unaffected and become invisible.

Fifty years ago, he could effortlessly manipulate armed conflicts between several regions. This was a combination of brilliant political wisdom and crude political tactics, which allowed him to accomplish all sorts of sophisticated operations.

All it takes is a few mistresses, or a few stillborn babies, a cup of poison, and a quack doctor to incite conflict between regional leaders and turn the Cold War into a hot war.

But in the 21st century, these conspiracies have been easily traced and investigated with increasingly advanced investigative methods, and the truth can be quickly ascertained. They have become so ridiculous, and the illusion and mystery of the power struggles of the primitive era are gone. Everything is clear and natural.

The people of the new era terrified the Immortals. His colleagues in the Alliance had always regarded Pellegrini as the most astute strategist in the group.

He could sway hearts with just a few words, making outstanding warriors serve the Immortals. He could destroy Mali Pero's family in a flash, without even staining his hands with blood.

Six years later, the Eagle Falcon still believe that Pellegrini's original theory of flight was correct.

When an eagle contracts a terminal illness, it becomes unable to land and dies upon returning to the ground, just like a blood-soaked monster that needs to constantly feed to survive.

Life is the same. Through various coincidences, they have gained immortality. These Eagle Falcon, able to survive this incurable disease before dying on the ground, will surely receive miraculous blessings and take another step on the path to godhood.

This theory is the ironclad rule believed by the Immortals, who, like eagles suffering from terminal illness, lurk throughout human society, hiding from predators and nameless hunting dogs in dangerous airspace.

These are all minor ailments. As long as you can endure them until the day the anonymous leader dies, the illness will heal itself without medicine.

They cannot descend to the earth, nor return to the mortal world and social interactions. Their offspring will fight for their power and property. History is the best teacher. Many foolish Immortals believe that their families can perpetuate their authority, but the first to betray them are their own family members who disliked their old age and refusal to die.

But this time, Pellegrini couldn't wait.

Modern firearms have almost erased the gap between mythical creatures and mortals.

If the gunsmith's knightly combat skills were to be further enhanced with a fiery flame...

This legacy will create countless warriors who are undaunted by hardship and full of fighting spirit.

He had to do something; he had to confirm again whether the gunsmith's students had the ability.

It's like the indelible fear inherent in human nature—

It manipulates us, making us unconsciously imagine, even in the warmth of our beds, whether the safest door in the room is actually closed.

"Do you believe in the legend of the Dagda's Cauldron, gunsmith?"

"My messenger is dead at your hands, isn't he? By the time you see this letter, he should be utterly destroyed, vanished from the world."

After being cooled with liquid nitrogen, the suitcase contained no explosives, only a letter and a few items.

"My name is Pellegrini Tuan, and I'm from Serbia."

"While you were searching through Brother Haitang's belongings, trying to find me, resorting to any means necessary to locate me, preparing to deliver the decisive blow, I wanted to tell you a story."

"The moon goddess Bastet, Ming De, the Taowu beast—it told people that deep underground there was a golden cup inlaid with twelve magnificent gemstones, which was the Dagda's Cauldron, the prototype of the Holy Grail in later religious legends."

"It rightfully became the Moon God Cup, the private property of Ming De, and the highest honor pursued by warriors."

"It can fulfill the most beautiful wishes in the world; anything you dream of will come true."

"This is a medal that Ming De used to comfort the brave and reward the warriors; it's a clumsy attempt at embellishment."

"It gives the impression that the journey itself is more important, and that the growth gained in the competition of the Moon God Cup and the friendship forged fighting alongside your companions are priceless treasures."

"But I must say, the Dagda's Cauldron is real."

"The sacred artifact of abundance that can grant wishes truly exists."

"Throughout my long life journey, I have been searching for it, trying to find it."

"Even opening up to you this time is to get closer to it. Your time is running out. You should start to get anxious. You'll get nervous, you'll start sweating and bleeding, and you'll lose your mind."

"As long as I can get it, any problem will be solved, just like cheating—just like Ming De got you."

"There's one more thing, consider it a small snack in addition to the main course."

There were several other items inside the box: a wheel hub stamp with a production batch number, a lock of hair, and a child's drawing.

Xue Ming recognized it--

--The wheel hub stamp with the production batch number is a part of Xiao Qi's car. It is a special vehicle that can run on the ring highway and needs maintenance, which means that Pellegrini is actually very close to his life.

That lock of hair carried the scent of a kindergarten teacher from Spring Flower Kindergarten, the very teacher of several children.

The last children's drawing was drawn by Jiang Zheng himself; it was an outstanding work and was displayed on the blackboard in the public area.

"This is not a threat, just sharing some observations from my life."

"I've been by your side for the past few years, trying to attack your family and exploit your weaknesses."

"All our efforts were in vain. Your alertness sends chills down my spine and gives me a sense of inadequacy—I can only touch these things at most."

"I'm giving it all back to you now! You can have it all back!"

"If they can disturb your peace of mind, make you angry, and disgust you, that would be even better."

"What are you going to do next, Gunsmith!"