Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 80 - 72: S-Class Wanted Criminal? Dead! FBI? Dead! (Please Subscribe)

Chapter 80: Chapter 72: S-Class Wanted Criminal? Dead! FBI? Dead! (Please Subscribe)

From Anna’s mouth,

Brian had only just realized that all along, he had been a clown.

But a clown has its advantages.

At least he didn’t have to worry about his information, being reported to the FBI by Anna and her group.

Because in the eyes of these people,

he was not an important figure.

They had simply considered him to be a test subject with some potential, a diversion in their dull lives.

The goal of Anna’s group was singular, and that was the "Divine Revelation" project!

...

The Divine Revelation project was not about creating gods.

Rather, it referred to a potion capable of simulating the changes mutants underwent during awakening—the "Divine Revelation Potion"!

According to Anna,

the birth of mutants occurred in a thirty-year cycle.

Ninety percent of these mutants, without proper guidance and restraint, would, like drug addicts, rapidly lose their sanity in the relentless pursuit of satisfying their desires, eventually dying at the hands of the police or the official Hunting Teams.

Their lifespan was only one to two years.

The remaining mutants,

most of them struggled to survive until the next Blood Moon.

The "Gift" of the Blood Moon, for these perverts and lunatics, was neither a blessing nor a curse.

But there was something magical about the mutants.

That was, during awakening, the bodies of mutants underwent wondrous transformation, capable of healing virtually all known diseases, aside from regenerating severed limbs.

The aim of the Divine Revelation Potion was to do just that: eliminate the side effects of becoming a mutant, retaining only that near-omnipotent healing factor!

In a sense,

if someone could develop the "Divine Revelation" potion,

then that person would become a god to all terminally ill patients.

This represented immense wealth and prestige.

However, in recent decades,

no organization had managed to achieve this.

At least, the FBI’s most advanced research had only been able to extract certain rare and special substances from the amniotic fluid of sheep, using the genetic traits of mutants, to create Divine Revelation Class I reagents, artificially producing a small number of congenitally deficient acquired mutants with a very low success rate.

For the breakthrough in experiments and collection of data,

the FBI had set up cultivation groups in various states across the United States.

...

Anna was part of one such FBI cultivation group.

Similar groups,

Anna had no idea how many of them there were across the entire United States.

Their purpose was singular: to exploit the power of the chosen Lurkers, manufacture Divine Revelation Class I reagents, conduct brutal human experiments, collect various data and "raw materials," and when the time was right, let the Hunting Teams handle the chosen Lurkers, reaping the body, wealth, and research outcomes, gaining both fame and fortune.

As for Brian,

he was just an unlucky guy targeted by his obsessive uncle.

Anna only knew that Brian’s uncle stubbornly believed that, with his deliberate guidance, Brian would surely become a mutant.

In order for the Divine Revelation project to proceed smoothly,

she and Rechter had been monitoring Brian.

The result was,

Brian hadn’t "awakened."

Further observation had followed.

Rechter joined Team B6.

But that was all per Billy’s coercive demands.

Until her death, Anna could never have imagined

that this person she saw as a pitiful creature, a plaything, had apparently been bestowed with divine favor; not only did he discover her and Rechter’s anomalies before they did, but his formerly kidney-deficient and overextended body had also become incredibly robust, revealing previously unpossessed combat skills and skinning expertise...

...

Brian evenly spread gasoline around the wooden house, utilizing a few candles and cloth to set up a rudimentary mechanical time-delay ignition device.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

Eleven twenty-three in the evening.

There should be enough time.

Hefting the body bag, Brian returned to the stolen car.

Behind him.

The dark and silent wooden house would, in a little over an hour, turn into a fully engulfed inferno, eliminating the last traces he had left behind...

...

His uncle Billy’s new hideout was located on a secluded farm in the suburbs.

Brian had a busy night ahead.

He had no extra time to deal with the bodies.

Anna’s corpse was directly tossed into the trunk of the car.

If all went well on this trip, dealing with one body wouldn’t be difficult.

If things didn’t go well, there wouldn’t be any need to bother.

...

Approaching the farm.

The headlights of the car were particularly conspicuous on the pitch-black road.

For the sake of concealment,

Brian drove the car into a pile of weeds, covering it with vegetation, then he dropped a large backpack on the ground.

For a moment.

A burly thug wearing a thick bullet-proof vest, a shoulder-holstered, long and heavy bullet chain, with a dozen blasting caps on his belt, and wielding a hefty shotgun, had appeared beside the vehicle.

"Feels pretty good."

Brian, feeling the security that the cold gun body brought, took out a large bag of pungently smelling powder, sprinkled it all over the car and himself, activated his enhanced sense of smell, and after making sure everything was foolproof, he went back to the path and walked toward the farm on foot.

When he was about three or four miles away from the farm.

On this land bathed in pure moonlight, far from the pollution of city lights, vast fields of crops began to appear.

On the thick, dead branches of trees, a few crows sat unblinking.

They curiously sized up the outsider who had suddenly breached their territory.

The night wind blew.

The tall scarecrows, erected by the roadside and hung on poles, swayed with the wind, adding a touch of horror movie atmosphere to this land.

Brian’s gaze shifted from the crows perched on the dry trees at the entrance.

He quickened his pace, ready to step into the area wrapped by tall cornfields.

Suddenly.

Brian stopped in his tracks.

His nose twitched, and he violently looked toward the vast cornfields to his left, a dozen meters away.

There was the smell of blood!

In the next moment.

Two figures, covered in fresh blood and breathing heavily, stumbled and fled from the adult-height corn.

"We’ve escaped!"

A woman with a trembling voice, seeing the path that appeared before her, let out an exultant cheer.

The other, his face also smeared with blood, revealed a look of joy.

They had finally escaped from that pervert’s grasp!

They were saved!

They were going to be saved!

At that moment.

"Heehee, are all of you FBI Hunting Team members this trashy? You’re even worse than the woman whose guts I spilled earlier..."

A sharp voice rose on the empty path.

The two poor souls who had just escaped turned in terror toward the direction of the sound.

They saw a ’scarecrow’ hanging on a pole within the cornfield, who jumped down and started walking towards them with open arms under the moonlight.

On the ten fingers that danced under the moonlight, there flickered a cold shine—sharp iron claws!

"Scarecrow!"

The man from the two of them let out a cry of terror, "Are you toying with us?"

"Yes, I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d have some fun with these FBI dogs you’ve caught," the scarecrow admitted as he approached.

He enjoyed watching his prey go from believing they had a new lease on life to the despair that followed.

Looking at the scarecrow, an S-class fugitive, drawing nearer.

The woman, her face smeared with blood, also wore an expression of despair.

She looked at her companion’s back, a ruthless look flashed in her eyes, and she pushed her companion towards the scarecrow as she ran toward the exit on Brian’s side.

Behind her, the companion’s screams resounded.

"That quickly?"

Just as the woman thought she too had no escape.

Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she yelled toward Brian ahead of her, "Bob, you finally arrived, please come save us!"

The scarecrow kicked away the corpse torn open by the iron claws, followed the direction of the woman’s shout, and became even more excited, "There’s dessert after the meal, I am so—"

Bang~

Gunfire spat out.

The massive gunshot echoed around.

The woman, with a vacant look in her eyes, watched what used to be the standing position of the scarecrow.

Only an intact lower half remained, along with countless torn human tissues and a pair of perfect iron claws...

...

A single shot had exploded this lunatic who’d appeared suddenly.

Brian turned his gaze toward the woman.

A shiver ran through her heart.

She had only then seen the pig’s head mask on Brian’s head and was taken aback.

Bad news!

This guy didn’t look like any good sort either!

The woman hastily pretended as if by accident, tearing away most of her tattered top, revealing her impressive assets, and in a seductively charming voice, she said, "Thank you, sir, I am Nicole, an FBI investigator, our backup is about to arrive, you..."

Bang~

Another shot.

The rippling gunfire struck among the dense, thicket of cornstalk leaves, disappearing into the wind before reaching five or six hundred meters.

The surroundings quieted down once more.

Brian, looking at the exploded remains of the woman, was filled with disdain.

Using someone else as a human shield.

Whether you’re FBI or anybody else!

Dead!

...

After reloading the bullets.

Brian, stepping over the bloodstains on the ground, moved toward the remains of the scarecrow.

Above the severed limbs.

A small blood-red sphere was slowly forming...