Many People Didn't Understand This, and Then They Died
The second time they passed the Deadly Curve, it was still that Chevrolet, with Jason still crammed in the trunk.
Taking prisoners to the enemy's headquarters is a very foolish thing to do, but leaving them in your own headquarters is even more foolish, because the more dangerous something is, the more carefully it should be kept.
Many people don't understand this principle, and then they die!
Whether in novels or TV dramas, there are many similar plots: instead of killing the villain, they are imprisoned, and then the villain escapes, causing a great disaster before they regret it.
The BOSS, who could have been dealt with in 100,000 words, was captured and escaped repeatedly, resulting in a million words of filler content.
Etc...
Russell looked thoughtful and nodded secretly, as if he understood something!
Ahem, Russell is firmly opposed to this kind of melodramatic plot. If he can't kill Jason for now, he'll just keep him under his nose. Even if something unexpected happens, he can deal with it in time, preventing Jason from escaping and lurking in the shadows to catch him off guard.
The Chevrolet was driving on a dirt road when it soon encountered two white sedans with their wheels punctured by wires, which were stopped in the middle of the road.
Thinking of the young people who said they were going to camp by the lake, Russell couldn't help but sigh, "Why are there so few living Americans?"
In the United America, there are very few three-person families; each couple raises at least two children. Black and Mexico families have even more children. Add to that legal and illegal immigrants, and the country's population should have exploded long ago.
Why not?
One reason why aliens always attack the America first when they invade Earth is that, but the main reason is simply that they are the ones who do it!
When it comes to courting death, Russell only admires the America people. They are warriors and pioneers, exuding a wild and simple aura of Silly Bird.
"I've never heard such a startling idea before. Are you serious?" Jennifer was immediately speechless after hearing Russell's analysis of the low natural population growth rate in the America.
But you know what, it actually makes some sense. Humans are capable of things that even they can't imagine.
Using the Blade of the Desert Eagle God to cut through the barbed wire blocking their path, the two successfully reached their destination— Crystal Lake!
The tranquil lake is far from the hustle and bustle, with blue skies, white clouds, green mountains and clear waters, and a gentle breeze blowing in the setting sun, making it a great place for an outing.
Even though it's not the best season for swimming, it's still quite pleasant to invite a few friends over, set up a barbecue, drink beer, and bask in the moonlight.
No need to worry about being single, and no need to be afraid of being bombarded with displays of affection. This is America, so show off your wealth and status, and you'll be invited to Team Battle!
Seven young men, with the aforementioned purpose, came to Crystal Lake, only to recklessly dig up the murderer's grave, where they were all chopped up one by one by Jason was grumpy in the morning.
The bodies were scattered haphazardly in the camp. Russell picked up the camera from the ground, and the video ended with Jason standing up from the grave.
The camera with night-vision capability—the young man had a great idea; he was a promising talent. It's a pity he died before he could even begin; a great action film director's career was cut short, leaving behind many unsung heroes!
After examining the cameras, Russell ignored the corpses scattered on the ground and followed the footage to the grave.
The central grave mound was empty. Jason had been buried here before, without any burial goods, only a wooden Cross.
The grave wasn't the coordinates of the Magic Circle, so Russell and Jennifer split up, searching for the abandoned cabin around Crystal Lake. The Low Shoulder Band's members, including Dark Circles, found the manuscript inside the cabin, the most likely place where the Witch had once lived.
A circular path for tourists has been built on both sides of the lake, as well as a wooden dock for mooring boats. Russell always chose to take the small paths, so the wooden house must be in a secluded corner. Otherwise, the manuscript would have been taken away long ago and could not have survived to this day.
It seems Russell had some incredible luck; it took him quite a while to find the cabin deep in the forest.
Over time, the wooden house has fallen into disrepair and is damaged beyond recognition by wind and rain. Many parts are covered with green plants, blending into the surrounding dense forest. If you don't look closely, you might mistake it for a dirt slope.
The wooden door was nowhere to be found. Russell saw footprints at the doorway, one large and one small. Based on his initial assessment, it seemed that Black Eyes and a certain girl had a fight here.
The room was filled with decaying furniture, and the floor was basically muddy; a little pressure would leave a footprint. Following the marks left by the dark circles under his eyes, Russell arrived at a room that was likely a storage room.
The interior space was small, with a few rays of sunlight filtering through the wooden planks. Russell found the altar, the altar where the Witch had cast her spells. In the center of a circle of vessels, there was a dried-up Deadman head.
His wrinkled gray skin tightened, his two rows of teeth protruded, his empty eye sockets stared straight at the doorway, and his white hair was messy like weeds.
The Witch's head—she was Jason's mother!
A look of seriousness flashed in Russell's eyes. Having witnessed the Nameless Female Corpse, he dared not underestimate any Witch. These women possessed incredible abilities; death was not the end for them, but merely another way of surviving.
Staring into the empty eyes of the head, Russell sensed a faint warning, but apart from that, there was no sign of leaking Magic Power nearby.
Russell circled the altar, comparing his manuscript with the originals, and rearranged several misplaced vessels. As if triggering a mechanism, a pale green Magic Circle appeared on the ground beneath the altar.
Once the target is identified, all that's needed is to destroy it.
Gaa gaa gaa gaa————
The withered head of the Deadman twitched, emitting a chilling sound of bones clashing, and its empty eyes were once again fixed on Russell, this time with an even stronger sense of warning.
Russell curled his lip. Having come this far, how could he possibly give up? He pulled out his Desert Eagle and blew the Deadman's head off with a single shot, then unleashed a flurry of fire, shattering all the containers.
The Magic Circle was still there, but its light had dimmed somewhat.
Russell raised an eyebrow. "The Witch has something."
Fire and lightning are the best options for breaking Magic Circle. Russell couldn't summon lightning, nor could he conjure a flame with his fingers, but he had a lighter. He produced a few bullets, sprinkled gunpowder on the altar, took off his coat, tore it into shreds, and in the blink of an eye, the entire altar was ablaze.
Flames clung to the shattered human head, the withered white hair from the weeds igniting first. As the fire grew, the shards of the vessel began to tremble violently.
Suddenly sensing danger, Russell leaped aside. Two beams of red light shot out from the void above the altar, striking Russell's previous spot like lasers and piercing through the wall behind him.
The cut was smooth and neat, sizzling with white smoke!
Suddenly, a low curse echoed in the room. Russell looked around for the source of the sound but could not pinpoint its location.
The grinding sound grew louder and louder, cracks appeared in the walls of the wooden house, and debris and dust fell down, indicating that it was about to collapse.
This was no place to linger. Russell turned and ran outside. The Magic Circle on the ground flickered on and off, like a flashlight whose battery had run out. It struggled for a moment before finally going out.
"Jason!!!"
Suddenly, Russell seemed to be hallucinating. In his mind's eye, an old woman with white hair stood in the center of the altar, her gloomy head lowered, her facial features indistinct, and he could only hear her intermittent murmurs.
"Jason!!!"
Russell turned and fired two more shots into the house. Just as he ran out of the cabin, the entire place collapsed into ruins. The flames, unable to reach oxygen, billowed thick black smoke into the sky...
As the wooden house collapsed, the ground cracked open like a spiderweb, revealing a dark pit that swallowed the entire house. The gaping maw snapped shut, even emitting chewing sounds, like the crunching of flesh and bone.
Goosebumps rose on Russell's skin. The scene before him was beyond his comprehension. There was no explanation for such a phenomenon in the manuscript, nor were there any memories of Witch in his mind.
Suddenly, Russell felt a sharp pain on the back of his hand, a burning sensation like maggots clinging to his bone. When he looked up, he saw a complex magical symbol on the back of his hand, the blood-red characters hinting at an ominous sign.
Russell recognized the writing; it was a curse frequently used by Witch, a spell cast with resentment as a trigger, bringing misfortune and demons upon the target.
Shhh! Shhh!
Footsteps echoed in the dense forest. Russell's eyes swept across the sound like lightning, and his gun followed his gaze, the bullet striking the source of the sound directly.
It's empty; there's nothing there.
Russell took a deep breath; he was certain he hadn't misread it—there had been someone there. Even a fleeting glimpse of that tall figure was enough to identify who it was; the Hockey Mask was too conspicuous.
"Jason!?"
Didn't you lock it in the trunk?
[Failure Diary]
Being busy with work is a great excuse, as if writing a few more chapters will make you a god.