Chapter 141: Two Ruthless Lunatics
The fat man walked up to the family of three. Under their terrified gazes, he lifted the tall and burly middle-aged man with just one hand, as if he were picking up a little chick.
“Heh heh~”
“You’re in luck, pal. This pill is worth more than your life.”
“Once you take it, you better work hard for the organization.”
The fat man’s face twisted into a sinister grin as he spoke. Then, without hesitation, he tore off the tape covering the middle-aged man’s mouth. Before the man could even cry out, the fat man’s hand moved like lightning, grabbing his jaw and—crack—dislocating it with a swift motion.
His speed and precision were so remarkable that it was clear he was an expert in this kind of work.
“Alright, time to feed him the pill.”
The fat man tossed the middle-aged man onto the floor.
“Tsk~”
“You’re a real pro at this.”
The punk-looking young man grinned as he walked over, squatting beside the trembling man. He picked up a small red pill and shoved it into the man’s mouth.
Somehow, despite having his jaw dislocated, the man swallowed the pill in one gulp.
As soon as the pill went down, his pupils dilated, and his whole body started convulsing violently, as if he were having a seizure.
Beast-like growls of pain forced their way from his throat, but with his jaw dislocated, he couldn’t form a single coherent word.
Watching the scene unfold, the fat man smacked his lips and muttered, “This guy’s not gonna just die, is he?”
“As long as he doesn’t have a heart condition, he won’t die,” the punk shrugged nonchalantly.
“But…”
He paused for a moment before continuing, “If we give it to those two old geezers, that’s another story.”
“Is it really necessary to waste such expensive pills on them?”
The fat man turned to the elderly couple, looking impatient.
“Even if they survive the side effects, they’re useless to the organization.”
The disgust on his face was obvious—he saw no value in keeping the elderly alive.
The punk fell silent, clearly considering the fat man’s words. He weighed the pros and cons in his mind, debating whether it was worth using the precious pills on two seemingly useless old people.
After a long moment of contemplation, a vicious glint flashed in his eyes.
“If he survives, we’ll kill those two and save the pills for someone more useful.”
His tone was icy, devoid of any emotion, as if taking two lives was no different from squashing a couple of bugs.
“Should’ve done that from the start.”
The fat man chuckled.
Both of them were the kind of people who saw human life as insignificant—brutal, ruthless, and utterly cold-blooded.
“Let’s hope this guy pulls through so we don’t waste our supply,” the fat man muttered, watching the convulsing middle-aged man.
“He’s strong—looks like he works out regularly. He should be fine,” the punk replied, intrigued by the man’s struggle.
“Let’s hope so.”
The fat man shrugged.
An Hour Later
The middle-aged man finally stopped convulsing.
The expensive carpet beneath him was soaked with his sweat and saliva. His body lay in a grotesquely twisted position on the floor, looking almost like a corpse—except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.
The fat man clapped his hands and grinned. “Well, well. Looks like this guy made it.”
“Heh… since he’s alive, those two old folks are useless now.”
The punk smirked.
“I’ll take care of them.”
The fat man grinned as he approached the terrified elderly couple, who were huddled together, shaking. He grabbed them effortlessly, one in each hand, just like picking up two baby chicks.
Scanning the room, he carried them toward a guest bedroom.
With a single kick, he sent the slightly ajar door flying open and stepped inside.
The fat man tossed the elderly couple onto the bed, cracked his knuckles, and smirked.
“Time for you to go.”
With that, his meaty hands shot forward, wrapping around their frail necks.
As he tightened his grip, the old couple’s faces contorted in pain, their throats emitting faint, wheezing sounds.
“Just bear with it for a bit. It’ll be over soon.”
The fat man’s grin stretched unnaturally wide, his thick lips curling grotesquely.
Crack! Crack!
Two crisp snapping sounds echoed through the room.
The old couple’s necks twisted at unnatural angles, their mouths dribbling thin streams of blood onto the pristine white sheets.
“Heh, finally dead.”
The fat man wiped their mouths with the bedsheet before lifting their limp bodies off the bed and placing them gently on the floor.
Then, he carefully smoothed out the bed, making it look untouched, and laid the corpses back down, covering them neatly with the blanket.
“Sleep tight. Until your bodies rot away.”
The fat man muttered as he scanned the room to ensure no bloodstains were left behind. Once satisfied, he nodded, turned on his heel, and walked out—meticulously wiping his footprints from the floor as he went.
“All done?”
Hearing the movement, the punk turned to him with a grin.
“Yup. Spotless. Even tucked them in.”
The fat man chuckled, plopping down onto a leather sofa.
“Hahaha… What are you, a kid playing house?”
The punk burst out laughing.
(End of Chapter 141)
