Time to Run

In the manor's gym, Wu Heng finished tidying up and, after a shower, came here to familiarize himself with his body.

Bang, a punch.

1686 pounds!

Wu Heng struck the punch tester with a bit of force and stared at the number displayed.

It had indeed exceeded the limits of the human body.

A punch of this magnitude landing on an ordinary person would essentially send them flying, with skull-shattering consequences.

The muscle utilization rate of an average person is generally around 20% to 30%.

Even after professional training, it only reaches about 40%; anything more would cause damage to the human body.

If an ordinary person could utilize 100% of their muscles in a single strike, they could even reach tonnage-level force.

Of course, the result would be that after one punch, their own bones would be pulverized and their internal organs ruptured.

But Wu Heng was different.

He had already tested that his physical strength exceeded the human limit by double.

And because his core was his heart, he could bypass the brain's safety restrictions on his muscles to deliver a limit-breaking strike similar to the Seven Injury Fist, relying on his blood to recover afterward.

His phone chimed, and Wu Heng picked it up to check.

It was a series of text messages from senders labeled Detective 1 through Detective 20.

Divided into 10 groups of two, they were responsible for reporting 24-hour behavioral information on Kirsty and her family of three living in Brooklyn City, as well as Frank in India.

The information mentioned that Kirsty's father was listing their current property for sale, and that Frank had withdrawn a sum of Moroccan francs equivalent to ten thousand pounds from the bank an hour ago.

Wu Heng then opened the documents provided by the police station on the table; among the four properties owned by Kirsty's family, only this wooden house in the Hatton District matched the house from the plot.

It was about to begin; it was time to go find Kirsty, and he also needed to hurry up and make his escape.

The Hell Priest of Ice could sense that his soul had escaped hell at any moment.

Being a Cursed Disciple was fine, but just like a mortal breaking out of prison, if he were caught, he wouldn't even be able to keep his soul.

With Wu Heng's current means, if he were discovered, he would definitely be dragged back to hell.

His soul would be tortured until it was twisted, and there would be no possibility of escaping a second time.

He activated the traps he had set up in the wooden house.

He handed over the five black bastards who had been tied up in the adjacent room—the ones who had smashed his car's trunk—to the police, then turned and left the manor.

These thugs were his backup plan in case the collected old blood couldn't be used, but unfortunately, they weren't needed.

The Hell Priest of Ice's intermediary was just an ordinary person obsessed with hell.

When the other party came to the wooden house to collect the Ice Crystal Ball, he believed the fully automatic machine guns and high-explosive landmines would give them a surprise.

Priests generally didn't bother with ordinary people who had no soul value, so there was no need to worry too much about the safety of the servants in the manor.

*

*

Far away in Africa, Frank was sitting in a teahouse in Morocco at this moment, the sweltering environment leaving him drenched in sweat in his white tank top.

As a playboy who lived for pleasure, he had long grown tired of worldly delights and began to pursue more stimulating experiences.

Frank tossed a stack of banknotes onto the round red wooden table.

Sitting across from him was an old man in a blue stitched shirt, who asked slowly, "What do you want?"

"The box."

The old man reached out to take the money and placed a square box covered in golden patterns, with a golden circle in the center of each side, onto the table.

"Take it, it's yours now."

Frank picked up the box and turned to leave immediately.

The old man in blue sat blankly where he was, staring at Frank's back, and said eerily, "It belongs to you forever."

*

*

"The contract is signed, here is the payment."

"No problem, sir. This shop belongs to you from now on. I wish you prosperous business."

At the "Fat Cat" pet shop in the Hatton District, Wu Heng signed a contract and watched the original owner, an old man, walk out the door.

This pet shop was the very place where Kirsty would come looking for a job in a few days.

Wu Heng flipped through the messages on his phone; Frank had already boarded the return flight and was expected to arrive here tomorrow morning.

Wu Heng fed all the cats, dogs, and birds in the pet shop, confirming that they were all full.

He took his camera, locked the pet shop door, and followed the map's directions, walking westward along a main road.

Hatton District was not large; after about twenty minutes of walking, he found his target.

A wooden bungalow with a European aesthetic stood upon a green lawn.

With its white painted walls and cyan tiles, this was the home of Channard, a doctor at the local Hatton Psychiatric Hospital.

Although it was daytime, there were few pedestrians on the road. Since Channard was currently working at the hospital, it was the perfect opportunity to sneak in.

Confirming he had the right place, Wu Heng gave a sharp leap, grabbed the edge of the 2.5-meter-high sloped eaves, and pulled himself up, slipping into the house through a second-floor attic window.

Channard's living room was filled with various anatomical models of the human body.

He moved from the living room to the bedroom, but after searching, he found nothing. Wu Heng returned to the living room and discovered another door on the right side.

He twisted the handle and pushed hard, but the door was locked.

Recalling the key he had seen in the bedroom drawer, Wu Heng turned back, retrieved it, and returned to the door.

After a bit of fumbling, click, the door swung open.

The walls inside were covered in various skeletal diagrams and blueprints for the Box of Mourning.

On a mahogany desk in front of a bookshelf sat five glass domes, each containing a replica of the puzzle box.

Wu Heng couldn't help but sigh at Channard's death-seeking behavior.

Of all the types of puzzle boxes to replicate, he had to choose the signature model of the Hell Priest, Pinhead.

He had skipped the low-difficulty options and gone straight for the highest level of danger.

The reason Wu Heng had chosen the Ice Crystal Puzzle Box was precisely because the Ice Cenobite was not particularly strong among the ranks of the Cenobites.

Ignoring the replicas on the desk, Wu Heng began searching for the primary target of his infiltration.

A green folder lay on the desk.

Wu Heng opened it to take a look.

The first page of the folder featured a black-and-white photograph of a Cenobite, his head wrapped in a burlap sack with two nails driven through the fabric into his eye sockets.

Tucked into the bottom left corner of the document was a sticker covered in dense, small text, recording information related to the Leviathan Hell.

Wu Heng picked up his camera and began photographing the pages as he flipped through them; this information would be vital for his future plans.

He soon reached the item he was looking for.

It was a black-and-white, semi-profile military portrait of a young man in uniform.

The sticker below provided the details:

Elliot Spencer. Graduated from public school and, due to family circumstances, joined the British Expeditionary Force during World War I as an officer.

The brutality of the Battle of Passchendaele caused him to lose his faith in humanity and God. Seeking to bury his past trauma through pleasure and indulgence, he discovered the Box of Mourning in British India in 1921 and subsequently vanished without a trace.

Wu Heng studied the photo carefully; he hadn't expected the High Priest Pinhead to be quite handsome in his youth.

He pulled out his camera, focused on the photo, and only felt at ease once he had confirmed a clear shot.

In the plot of the second installment, this photo could awaken Pinhead's humanity, serving as a talisman when facing him.

Wu Heng proceeded to photograph the rest of the materials, closed the folder, and restored everything in the room to its original position.

After checking that there were no passersby outside, he climbed back out the window and made his way back to the pet shop.

Only then did Wu Heng begin reviewing the captured data. He had not taken the green folder with him, as he did not want to interfere with the plot of the second installment.

At 30% exploration progress, Wu Heng had received a ticket to the plot world.

Although he didn't know its use yet, he guessed it would likely be related to re-entering this world later.

However, this exploration progress was not easy to come by. Even though it looked like Wu Heng had gained 35% with ease, in reality, he had died once, checked in at Hell, and completed two plot missions to earn it.

There was a reward for 30% exploration; he wondered how much he would get for completing all the plot missions, and if there would be further rewards.

Now that he had Spencer's photo as his trump card, all that remained was to wait for Frank's return.

Wu Heng walked to the entrance of the pet shop and looked up at the sky.

The evening clouds burned from west to east, glowing red as if the sky itself were on fire, like a burning hope.

He felt as if he could already see Frank flying in from the west.

Traveling through the clouds, heading toward Hell without a moment's pause.

Would you be willing to trade your collection, monthly tickets, and recommendation votes for two wooden spoons from me?