Chapter 185: Whimper—You’re Going to Die
The car drove to that same abandoned factory from last time. The Green Tiger Gang thugs who had once occupied it had long since been killed by Yan Luo, so the place was now under Yan Luo’s control.
Abandoned factories were practically the best places for kidnapping and murder.
Nan Xun was shoved in roughly by A-Hei and the others. Inside, he saw three ferocious-looking burly men; together with the ones from the car, there were seven in total.
Honestly, if A-Hei hadn’t been holding a badass handgun, Nan Xun would have fought these people to the death rather than let himself be crudely tied to an iron chair, unarmed and helpless. He’d be afraid of getting riddled with bullets.
Nan Xun frowned slightly as he looked at the seven hulking figures before him. A thin sheen of sweat seeped into his palms.
These seven were probably the extremists under Yan Luo—fanatical followers who still worshipped him. They couldn’t tolerate Su Mobai, the “traitor.” They had no idea Su Mobai had done nothing at all; they only knew that he, like Ji He, was an undercover agent. In their eyes, both deserved to die.
A few days ago, they’d taken a loss with Ji He. Ji He had regained his police identity, carried a gun, and was under police protection—there was nothing they could do to him. So they locked onto Su Mobai instead.
They’d first heard that Su Mobai had been placed at home by that Captain Zhao. When they rushed over, the place was already empty. Digging further, they learned that Captain Zhao’s wife had been knocked unconscious, and Su Mobai had been abducted.
At first, they all thought some brother from the gang had done it. But days passed with no news of Su Mobai at all.
In the end, A-Hei noticed something off about Yan Luo. He discovered that Yan Luo went to a certain casino in City B at fixed times every day.
While Yan Luo was away, A-Hei secretly went to the casino’s basement and saw that locked room. The truth immediately clicked.
The brothers were furious. Su Mobai and Ji He had gotten so many of their brothers killed—yet even now Lord Yan was still protecting this traitor?
They couldn’t accept it. They wanted to kill this stinking brat who made Lord Yan lose control—and make him die horribly.
“Brother Hei, the camera’s ready. We can start,” one of them said, flashing Nan Xun a cruel smile.
Nan Xun saw a video camera pointed straight at him—the record button already pressed.
His brows knitted tightly. “What are you planning to do?”
“What? Of course we’re preparing a big gift for your Uncle Zhao! Heard Ji He played with men in prison? Hahahaha—brothers, we’re in the mood today too. Perfect timing to have some fun with you, you little bastard.”
After saying that, aside from A-Hei, the other rough men actually started pulling down their pants in Nan Xun’s direction.
Nan Xun immediately understood their disgusting intent.
“Little Eight,” he said quietly, “when I first transmigrated, how did you say Su Mobai died?”
Little Eight swallowed. “Gang-raped to death by several inmates in prison. Kinda like this scene, huh.”
Nan Xun’s gaze darkened. He suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Little Eight, block my pain—now!”
Just as they crowded toward him, even trying to stuff something into his mouth, Nan Xun used the blade he’d hidden in his sleeve to cut through the ropes.
The instant he broke free, he sprang up. The blade between his fingers sliced open one man’s throat in a flash. He kicked hard at the nearest man’s groin, pulled back—and slashed again.
Screams rang out. The stench of blood quickly filled the abandoned factory. A frenzied, bloody feast began.
Little Eight: “Still love cutting off people’s bloodlines as always. Tsk—but I like it.”
In the blink of an eye, Nan Xun had taken out two men.
His actions enraged the rest. A-Hei angrily fired a shot straight into his leg. The next second, A-Hei froze—this kid didn’t seem to feel pain at all and kept charging forward.
A-Hei’s hand shook. He fired another shot into Nan Xun’s arm. Still no slowdown. Nan Xun grabbed an iron chair behind him and smashed it into the heads of the two in front…
He was like a madman. His body was slashed open in countless places by machetes, flesh torn and flipped outward, bones faintly visible. He’d also been shot a full seven times—blood bursting from each bullet hole and quickly spreading. Yet he kept beating people with bloodshot eyes, as if he’d lost all sensation.
A-Hei, gun in hand, was terrified. He stood dumbly at the doorway, watching as the kid killed everyone. Nan Xun himself had become a man soaked in blood, cuts and bullet holes all over him, blood gushing out relentlessly—horrifying to behold.
Then Nan Xun slowly walked toward him.
With each step, a pair of bloody footprints appeared on the ground. His gaze was unwavering, his pitch-black eyes shining as he stared straight ahead.
A-Hei didn’t fire. Nan Xun didn’t attack.
The blood-soaked figure passed right by A-Hei and walked straight outside.
A-Hei stared blankly at his upright back. His eyes suddenly burned, his grip loosened, and the handgun clattered to the floor. There was still one last bullet inside—but A-Hei could no longer hold the gun.
As Nan Xun walked on, he suddenly collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Nan Xun: “What the hell—why won’t my limbs listen to me? Why did I fall?”
Little Eight: “Do you think blocking pain means what, huh? It just means you don’t feel the pain! Take a look yourself—how many cuts and how many bullets are in you?!”
Nan Xun: “Then tell me—like this, can I hold on until Yan Luo gets here?”
Little Eight gave a mocking chuckle. “You’re about to meet the Yan Luo King of the underworld!”
Nan Xun: “Little Eight, stop the bleeding—now!”
Little Eight: “No can do. I can’t give you that many buffs at once. Either I remove the pain block and then stop the bleeding—your choice.”
Nan Xun nodded without hesitation.
Little Eight froze. Nan Xun was someone who feared pain more than anything—yet now, just to live a little longer, he was willing to endure it?
“Sweetheart, think it through. Seven gunshots. Countless knife wounds. Your whole body’s bleeding—gushing out. You really want me to remove the pain block?”
Nan Xun clenched his teeth. “Hurry up. Stop talking.”
Little Eight started whimpering. “But it’s already too late. You’ve lost too much blood. You’re about to kick the bucket.”
Unwillingness flashed in Nan Xun’s eyes.
If he died without seeing Yan Luo one last time, he wouldn’t accept it.
But he could feel it—his breath was growing weaker. Death was close.
Using the last bit of strength he had, Nan Xun struggled to crawl forward a little more. The blood-soaked body dragged a glaring crimson trail across the ground.
Finally, he couldn’t hold on anymore. He raised his trembling fingers and, with great difficulty, wrote one last line in blood on the floor:
Brother, I don’t blame you. Take good care of yourself.
Then he desperately stretched his hand forward, as if trying to touch something. Suddenly, his raised hand went limp and fell. His half-lifted body dropped back to the ground with a dull thud.
Just like that… he was dead. Completely.
