"Fire."
"Zzzzz--!"
Dozens of weapons roared simultaneously.
The wealthy socialites who hadn't had time to run far covered their ears and screamed, fearing they would be turned into a pile of charred remains by the terrifying blast wave.
"So noisy."
Yasuo muttered something, then raised his left hand, which was holding the scabbard of his longsword, and casually flicked his wrist upwards.
"Hassey!"
A wind rises from the ground.
It wasn't a gentle evening breeze, but a visible, semi-transparent barrier formed by compressed airflow.
The Wind Wall rose out of nowhere, blocking his and Hector's path.
"What?!"
The manager on the second floor slipped, and the expensive red wine spilled onto his custom-made Italy trousers.
"This... this is impossible!"
"Is this how you treat your guests?"
Yasuo stood behind the Wind Wall, unscrewed the flask, tilted his head back, took a swig, and then smacked his lips in disgust.
"This wine is watered down, bad review."
The Wind Wall dissipated the next second.
Hector had been suppressing his wild nature, finally stirred.
"Roar--!!"
A tiger's roar shook the Crystal chandelier.
Hector landed on all fours, his entire body transforming into a white blur as he charged into the security team.
These security personnel, who usually acted arrogantly and domineeringly, finally experienced what it meant to be suppressed by those at the top of the food chain.
Each of Hector's fingers is a deadly Blade.
Before a soldier could even turn his gun around, Hector pounced on him, his claws flashing, tearing the soldier and his bulletproof vest to shreds.
"Monster! Shoot! Shoot!"
The remaining soldiers panicked and frantically pulled the triggers.
But it was all in vain; Hector was too fast. He became a tiger rampaging through the flock, taking a life with every pounce.
"Watch out, Big Cat." Yasuo leaned against a Roman column, watching the bloodthirsty Hector. "Don't splatter your brains everywhere; we'll have to question you later."
Hector did not respond; the green light in his eyes grew stronger, and the bloodthirsty impulse of a Beast was eroding his reason.
He grabbed a soldier by the ankle and swung him around, smashing him into another group of people.
The manager on the second floor finally realized the gravity of the situation.
He threw down his wine glass and turned to run towards the VIP box behind him.
There is a secret elevator that leads directly to the underground parking lot.
"Trying to run away?"
Yasuo glanced at the hastily departing figure.
He swallowed the last sip of cheap whiskey, casually tossed the empty jug on the ground, used the shoulder of an unfortunate soldier as leverage to leap into the air, and transformed into a blue gust of wind, cutting through the chaotic battlefield and heading straight for the second floor.
The manager had just run to the door of the private room, and before his hand even touched the doorknob, he felt a chill on his neck.
A long, gleaming sword was held against his throat, its tip less than a millimeter from his carotid artery.
You can even feel the lingering chill on the blade.
Good evening, sir.
Yasuo's voice rang in his ears, carrying a strong smell of alcohol.
"That suggestion about peeling was very creative; I think we can explore it further."
The manager was stiff all over, his shirt soaked with cold sweat.
He raised his hands, trembling, "Don't... don't be impulsive! Do you know whose territory this is? This is Count Nefaria's property! If you kill me, the entire Los Angeles underworld will hunt you down!"
" Count Nefaria?" Yasuo raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a rat chief who only knows how to hide in the sewers."
The battle downstairs is nearing its end.
Hector stood in the middle of the pile of corpses, panting heavily, his white battle suit stained with blood.
He was trying to calm his breathing, attempting to push back the tiger that wanted to completely take over his body.
The surviving wealthy people around them huddled in a corner, trembling with fear; some had even wet themselves in terror.
Yasuo ignored the commotion downstairs. He patted the manager's well-maintained face with the back of his sword, quite forcefully, leaving two red marks.
"Tell me, where is that old bastard named Nefaria?"
Yasuo spoke in a languid tone.
"A friend of mine wants to catch up with him and maybe get a few bones removed while we're at it."
The manager swallowed hard. " The Earl... the Earl isn't here. He rarely shows up; he only appears at the monthly ' Blood Feast '."
" Blood Feast?" Yasuo narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't sound like a proper gathering. Where is it?"
"On... on a cruise ship on Santa Monica Beach. Tonight... tonight is the day of the Blood Feast."
The manager stammered, "But I advise you not to go. It's home to the world's top Superman assassins, and... and that thing."
"That thing?"
Before Yasuo could ask any further questions, the LED screen in the center of the hall suddenly flashed, and then a human face appeared.
It was an old man wearing a black Cloak, with sunken eyes and skin like dried tree bark.
"A fantastic performance. I never imagined that two lost little bugs could kill so many of my Watchdogs."
The manager saw the person on the screen, his face turned deathly pale, even more terrified than when a sword had been held to his neck.
" Earl lord! Save me! I did it for..."
"Waste has no value in living."
The old man on the screen coldly interrupted him.
No sooner had he finished speaking than the manager's white suit suddenly began to smoke.
No! No!!!
The manager let out a bloodcurdling scream.
It was as if countless insects were wriggling beneath his skin, his blood vessels were bulging, and his entire body began to swell at a visible speed.
Damn it.
Yasuo cursed under his breath and kicked the manager away.
"Bang!"
The manager's body exploded in mid-air, turning into a cloud of purple poisonous mist.
The toxic fumes were extremely corrosive, instantly erasing the second-floor railings completely, and even causing black smoke to rise from the cement floor.
Welcome to the City of Angels, wanderer.
Count Nefaria on the screen let out a sinister laugh.
"Since you're so eager to die, then come to Santa Monica. I've prepared a big gift for you there."
The screen went out.
A deathly silence fell over the hall.
Hector jumped up from downstairs, staring at the still-bubbling pool of Venom, his brow furrowed. "Is that some kind of biological bomb? He implanted something like that into his men?"
"Looks like we've found the right person."
Yasuo sheathed his sword, took out a slightly flattened cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth, only to realize that he had lost his lighter.
He spit out the cigarette smoke, somewhat irritated.
Let's go to the beach.
Yasuo straightened his collar.
"I've heard seafood pairs well with white wine; hopefully that old man's cruise ship has some in stock."
Just as the two turned to leave, Yasuo suddenly stopped.
His ears twitched.
A very faint ticking sound, almost like a countdown, came from under the floor.
Moreover, the sounds became increasingly frequent.
"Hey, big cat." Yasuo turned around, his expression unusually serious for a second. "Can you run fast?"
"What?"
Hector was taken aback.
"Because this building is about to go into the sky in about three seconds."