Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 140 - 122: Provoked Me, I Can Only See You Off_2

Chapter 140: Chapter 122: Provoked Me, I Can Only See You Off_2

They were foolish enough to set up a cultivation group, hoping to use Billy’s lab where he developed the "God’s Initiative" reagent, and in the end to kill three birds with one stone.

That meant Billy was going to lose control.

Otherwise, Brian had no doubt that his uncle could play those FBI agents like puppets.

He meticulously attached all the VX poison capsules to his belt, ignored the protective gear set aside, walked to the garage, got into the unlicensed car, and left the safe house.

...

Tracking scents, before modern times, was undoubtedly a divine skill in tracking.

But in the age of developed transportation, it became somewhat difficult.

The scent from a car was the hardest to track.

Brian traced the possible route back and forth seven or eight times until he finally tracked down a poor neighborhood on the eastern edge of the city.

There, he smelled the pheromones from the letter.

This was a black slum, but its main residents were immigrants from Africa.

Most African immigrants actually emigrate to Europe; not many come here because they are too much of a minority. Coming here, they easily suffer bullying and discrimination.

They are not accepted by the local black community, and their living conditions are not good.

Following the scent,

Brian arrived at a somewhat decrepit apartment building.

Walking through the dimly lit corridor, the pungent smells of marijuana, urine, alcohol vomit, and more wafted out from the rooms. The original color of the corridor was indiscernible, making it sickening just to set foot in.

He came to a room at the end of the hallway.

Brian paused for three seconds, then, with the aid of supercomputer perception, barely assured there was no movement inside, he gripped the doorknob with his gloved hand as his uncle had once twisted the lock off his apartment door, forcefully twisting open the cheap lock.

Entering the room,

he saw a young black man with protruding lips and a slightly sandpaper-like complexion, wearing only shorts, sprawled out on the sofa asleep, surrounded by food scraps and beer cans, beside which laid seventeen or eighteen low denomination US dollar bills.

Brian sniffed lightly, confirmed the man was his target, closed the door, searched the room, then went over, grabbed the man by the neck, and dragged him out like a dead dog.

The man woke up in shock when his throat was locked.

He was incredibly angry, then he choked, and Brian’s nearly five hundred pounds of brute strength squeezed him until he was oxygen-deprived, and he passed out again.

Brian, with his current ability, if placed in the era of cold weapons dressed in heavy armor, would be a monster capable of handling a several dozen-pound two-handed sword with one hand, swirling it into blade flowers, with endurance on par with bulls and oxen, single-handedly slaying over a hundred people of a cold weapon army would be a breeze!

Arriving at the deserted garbage disposal plant,

Brian dropped the man on the ground and gave him several hard slaps.

Under his interrogation, no carbon-based life could keep secrets!

The young black man, under the stimulus of pain, opened his eyes bewilderedly, only to be met by the sinister smile of a mask...

...

Half an hour later,

at the foul-smelling sewage network node,

a group of people knelt under a sculpture, praying devoutly.

A bald black man looked at his subordinate, "Have all those letters been sent out?"

His subordinate, cloaked in a black robe blending into the darkness like a specter, nodded, "Alaba Priest, there are twenty-seven suspects with that scent. Unless that butcher can conceal his own scent, he is definitely among those twenty-seven."

"Twenty-seven people..."

The bald black man sighed, "That’s too many. Whether there’s a result or not, the hidden Beastmen of Smith Circus must leave, and we must evacuate as well. It’s getting harder and harder to hide from Hyena’s high-tech methods."

If it was not to complete the sect’s mission of retribution,

the FBI and the Los Angeles NW Organization, pursuing them so fiercely,

they would not be using such a clumsy method that flushes out the target.

In the heart of the Bald Priest, this was just for show to the high-ranking members of the sect, he held out little hope.

There might be no results, but there had to be action.

That was why he was able to become a priest of the sect.

However, the Bald Priest still hoped that this flushed out the little mouse that had harmed their sect.

When that time came,

he would use the tribe’s most brutal method of execution on the culprit!

Just then,

every kneeling believer’s pupils contracted violently, they clutched their throats in pain, collapsing to the ground, gasping like fish out of water, trying to breathe but finding their muscles out of control. Only their body’s instinctual reaction could expel the vast amount of sweat, causing their bodies to convulse.

This sudden calamity stunned the few remaining black people in robes on the scene.

"Not good!"

"Attack!"

A black man, with fluorescent light sparkling in his eyes, roared as his muscles swelled and his hands transformed into sharp claws. With a roar, he dashed through the sewage, heading into the darkness beyond.

The next moment.

Da da da~

A barrage of gunfire sounded.

The black Mutant who had just charged into the darkness returned as a mangled mess of flesh at an even faster speed, slamming back to where he began. After convulsing twice, he lay still.

Hearing the gunfire,

the remaining few hesitated no more and turned around, abandoning the struggling believers on the ground as they raced into the darkness behind them.

They had chosen this as their meeting point precisely because it was a nexus of sewer lines, offering multiple escape routes in case of trouble.

Within less than a second of running,

three deafening explosions echoed through the surrounding pipes.

Light and heat flared.

Two black-robed men were seen silently pierced by countless shrapnel pieces, dying miserably on the spot.

Only the Bald Priest with his bizarre ability managed, in a moment of crisis, to transform into a sphere, rolling in the opposite direction. Eventually, he came to a stop at the ritual spot littered with fallen believers, his rear end studded with bullets, propelled back by the force of the explosion.

He spat out several chunks of his own insides and looked ahead in despair.

Da da~

Footsteps approached from the distance.

Beneath the dim oil lamps flanking the deity’s image, the Bald Priest could only make out the figure of a tall person wearing a maniacally grinning clown mask standing before him.

As his consciousness blurred,

the Clown’s voice reached his ears: "You’ve crossed me, I’m afraid I must send you on your way."

The Bald Priest realized.

So that butcher had indeed been hiding among those civil servants!

He had never expected that a trivial act meant to impress his superiors would actually lure out this hidden viper which had followed their trail straight here, baring its dangerous fangs.

This was no mere mouse,

but rather a man-eating lion!

Filled with endless regret, the priest sent by the Original Sect for a mission of revenge died pathetically in the filthy sewers beneath Los Angeles.

...

"So weak..."

Brian hadn’t expected it to be so easy to kill off this group from the Original Sect.

After all, during the previous interrogation,

that black youth had made these ’Divine Messengers’ sound like gods descending to earth, whose wrath would spell certain death for mortals.

The result... they were nothing but bugs that could easily be squashed underfoot.

Feeling somewhat let down,

Brian stood in the midst of the dispersing VX nerve gas, repeatedly searching the area until he made sure that the small group of dozens were indeed all dead.

"What an empty feeling of being stuck in between..."

Brian felt as if he had prepared himself for a three-hundred-round battle with a boss, only to defeat it with a single strike—a sense of loss.

He suddenly realized that he was no longer the weakling he had been just over a month ago.

He was strong.

With clear consciousness, a body nearing inhumanity, a host of talents at his disposal, and the adept use of modern weaponry...

He was indeed very strong now.

...

After waiting for more than ten minutes,

Brian, now in possession of three Obsession Little Balls, finally left the sewer.

He didn’t have the time to check the contents of the Obsession Little Balls right now.

To cut the weeds, remove the roots!

Smith Circus, huh.

Here I come!

In the moonlight,

the maniacally bright red smile on Brian’s Clown mask became increasingly sinister...

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.