This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 551 Kidnapping and Counter-Killing

Chapter 551: Chapter 551 Kidnapping and Counter-Killing

A rather obscure piece of trivia is that even though the nobles of Giant Stone City are decaying and incompetent, the city—with its semblance of order—still counts as a land of grace for the southern part of River Valley Province and the northern part of Brocade River Province’s Wasteland.

For two hundred years, survivors have been migrating toward Giant Stone City continuously, and even after the collapse of its buildings, this inertia has persisted.

Because the influx of people far exceeded the industrial capacity of Giant Stone City to absorb them, and due to the city walls’ inherent limitations that prevented housing too many survivors, an entry tax was imposed, varying between one to two silver coins.

Workers with jobs would not leave the city casually, and Scavengers who toiled in the Wasteland wouldn’t enter the city without cause, while the militiamen stationed at the city gates could earn an additional income.

It was a win-win-win situation.

A large surplus of labor force and the resulting unemployment and informal employment eventually formed numerous ownerless cities—slums.

The people here usually subsisted on the waste expelled from the Giant Wall or helped survivors within the wall to scavenge and hunt in the Wasteland, or did other jobs that those inside the wall were unwilling or unable to do.

Historically, Giant Stone City had attempted to clear these psoriasis-like attachments under the Giant Wall, but the efforts proved unappreciated and exhausting.

Building makeshift shelters is almost an essential skill for every survivor in the Wasteland, and even if they were torn down today, Scavengers would have them rebuilt tomorrow.

And every year when the Tide comes, the nobles of the Inner City also need these people to fill the front lines.

Even the often-economically reckless lords knew that drawing manpower from the slums had a far less impact than drafting skilled industrial workers from the industrial zones to bear arms.

Over time, like psoriasis, the shanties crept from the base of the Giant Wall into the Wasteland, forming a buffer between order and chaos.

With time, some seemingly decent houses have even been built in the dirty-water-strewn slums, standing out starkly.

These distinctive buildings generally belong to the gang members or the businesses they run catering to the Waste Land Wanderers.

The order here is maintained by gang members, who themselves are mostly composed of thugs; some of them not only do business with Looters in the Wasteland but are Looters themselves.

For the Alliance, truly liberating nearly two hundred thousand slum dwellers from the Wall’s periphery means not only finding them jobs to feed their families but also rooting out the villains hidden among them.

Clearly, this is not good news for the hidden villains...

West Willow Wood Tavern.

Sitting on the second floor, Jeff fiddled with the dagger in his hand, watching the fine snow flurries outside the window, a faint trace of worry etched onto his grim and solemn face.

As the leader of the Dagger Gang, although his blood was not as noble as the Elder Sids’, he was still a big shot in the nearly two hundred thousand slum population, and anyone who saw him had to respectfully address him as "lord" or "sir."

With his status, he shouldn’t have had any worries, but a series of recent events had filled him with intense unease.

A newspaper seller had gone missing from the outer city, a revolution had erupted in Giant Stone City, and then the Alliance took over; it was as if it had all been agreed upon.

If that was all there was to it, that would be one thing, but clearly, it wasn’t the end.

The Alliance began to establish aid stations in the slums, registering survivors’ information while distributing food, setting up tents, arranging work, and relocating some individuals...

All these measures had Jeff on edge.

The Alliance was breaking a tacit agreement that had been in place for half a century, trying to establish a new order in his underground kingdom!

What’s worse, that newspaper seller was still alive and kicking, while the assassin he had hired from Elder Sid had vanished...

Footsteps approached from outside the door.

Jeff instinctively gripped the dagger tighter and tensed his muscles, but upon hearing the three long and two short knocks at the door, he relaxed his tense nerves.

"Come in."

The door opened.

It was West, the second-in-command of the Dagger Gang, who entered.

Jeff didn’t wait for him to speak.

"Any news?"

West shook his head with a grim expression.

"No."

After a long silence, Jeff violently stabbed the dagger into the table and cursed in frustration.

"Damn it..."

Understanding the anger in his heart, West said nothing, sighed, and sat down in a chair nearby.

"Sid has been buried alongside that collapsed building, ’Small Blade’ is still missing, and Spielberg is still alive... But none of that matters now. What’s fatal is that the distinguished visitor from the north is dead, our Serite is dead too; we’ve spent so much time and effort, but still haven’t found the weapon."

Jeff’s face was gloomy, and after a long time, he said,

"What about Wallace?"

"...It seems he went to confess to the Alliance and then got on a bus to the POW camp. I don’t know how long his sentence will be, but I suspect he might have given away our deal with the northern guests, which is what I’m most worried about."

Looking at the silent Jeff, West paused before continuing,

"The Alliance isn’t making any overt moves against us... but every single one of their actions is almost fatal to us. I suspect that as soon as this snowstorm or the spring tide is over, they are going to settle the score with us."

Jeff harbored apprehension in his heart but showed contempt on his face, scoffing,

"Like they can send an army to wipe us out."

"It’s not impossible," West said with a wry smile, "The construction crew has actually been infiltrating the slums. The more they organize, the less room we have to hide... I even suspect they are targeting you and me."

Jeff’s eyes narrowed slightly.

In fact, he didn’t need West to remind him; he also had a similar feeling after seeing a series of moves by the Alliance. Especially over the past few days, he always felt like someone was watching him.

Perhaps—

He should go north and lay low.

And wait to come back after the aftermath stirred up by the cataclysm in Giant Stone City had completely settled.

After pondering for a moment, he said earnestly,

"What’s your suggestion?"

West shared his thoughts,

"We should shut down businesses that could easily trigger the Alliance’s sensitive nerves, like ’labor dispatch’ and ’organ trade.’ And we need to close down facilities that could be problematic, like ’hospitals,’ ’kitchens,’ and ’welfare institutes.’"

A twitch crossed Jeff’s brow,

"That’s a lot of money."

West nodded silently.

"Yes... but even if we don’t shut them down, most of our clients have been wiped out anyway. Keeping them going is purely a risk."

Recently, those Blue Jackets have been scurrying around like madmen, even dragging out the cannibal tribes hibernating in the tunnels.

Those man-eaters were truly disgusting, and he didn’t like them, but doing business with them was relatively pleasurable.

When they caught fattened merchants or the like, they would eat the flesh and then pass the remaining property and goods through the slum gangs for disposal, and the payment required was only a few girls, aged and unsellable.

They were different from the distinguished guests up north, as they didn’t mind if the slaves were pretty or not, nor were they picky eaters.

Listening to the advice from his second in command, Jeff stared at the dagger on the table, lost in thought.

If this had been two years ago, when business in Red River Town was still booming, all this would have been insignificant profits, fine to leave to the Dean Gang and Poison Gang.

But now, what was once petty profit had become the main income for the gang. If he cut those off, what would he and his brothers live on?

After musing for a while, Jeff said slowly,

"We can transition, but we need new economic sources."

Seeing that the boss had finally relented, West breathed a sigh of relief and patiently continued,

"That’s what I was thinking... We have enough manpower. Once we successfully clean up, we can completely switch to another livelihood. For example, try to contract some legal construction from the Alliance, or open mines in West State City. Once the paperwork is done, we can apply our methods, and the profits from this might not be less than those from murder and plunder."

Jeff slowly nodded his head,

"Do as you suggested... In a few days, I plan to go to the Free State to explain the weapons situation to our clients. I expect to stay there for a while, so I am leaving things here in your hands."

"Your will be done."

West respectfully nodded slightly, but in his heart, he scornfully curled his lip.

Explaining to the client was probably a ruse; the old fox was likely scared out of his wits by the Alliance and probably hadn’t slept well in days.

But that was fine.

With that guy gone, it would be convenient for him to do some things.

By the time he returns, it’ll be hard to say who the real boss is here.

Looking at his subordinate with bowed head, Jeff gave a slight nod, just about to send him away when a deafening explosion suddenly came from outside the window.

The two immediately looked out, only to see thick smoke billowing in the distance on the dilapidated street, while people screamed and scattered in all directions.

"Damn it!"

Jeff’s nerves, which had just relaxed, tensed up like a bowstring again. Cursing under his breath, he got up and walked to the window, "What the hell are those idiots doing! Didn’t I tell them to keep a low profile these days!"

Staring in the direction of the rising smoke, West’s pupils contracted slightly.

"The Welfare Institute..."

Hearing those three words, Jeff’s brow twitched violently, and he immediately turned back, marched up to West, and grabbed him by the collar.

"Get your men there right now! Move the goods to a safe place! Before the Alliance people arrive! Hurry!"

"Yes!"

Thinking of the Alliance’s methods, West nodded nervously, not daring to hesitate, and quickly turned and walked out of the door.

Watching the door shut in haste, Jeff felt uneasy, swore quietly, and walked over to the desk to pick up a dagger.

Perhaps he should stay in the safe house for a while.

...

"Star anise, bay leaves, fennel... what the hell do they look like?"

Holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, Feng Qing wandered aimlessly through the market at the Giant Wall Gate, looking around cluelessly.

About an hour ago, she and Gui Gui, along with a few other comrades from the Goblin Corps, were preparing New Year’s Eve delicacies in the Army’s kitchen.

As for the ingredients, it was the tentacles of a Multilegged Beast.

These mammal-like creatures resembling invertebrates usually thrived in the forests stretching from the City of Dawn to the Red River Alliance, with a few in the high radiation areas of the city, although they weren’t commonly seen.

Most Waste Land Wanderers would steer clear of Multilegged Beasts because not only were they tough to beat, but their recovery power was extremely strong.

A spray of bullets would leave limbs scattered all over the ground, and then a few days later, they would grow back.

But that wasn’t all.

Their flesh was incredibly stinky, smelling like rotten eggs that had gone bad for half a month—probably containing hydrogen sulfide besides organic acids. Hardly anyone would want to eat it.

However, their leader, Boss Mosquito, had a sudden brainwave—

"Since the Multilegged Beast is so durable, and its tentacles regrow, if we can solve the issue of taste, couldn’t we cultivate it like chives?"

Harvest one batch, grow another; wouldn’t this protein production efficiency kick the asses of chickens, ducks, pigs, sheep, and cows!

At first, everyone was against it because it really was too stinky, causing the other Corps’ comrades to look at them with strange eyes.

But all of them together couldn’t withstand Boss Mosquito’s persistence.

"I’ll think of a way to deal with the toxicity! MMP! The periodic table is right there, I’ll be damned if I can’t cure a piece of meat!"

"No, no! The meat is too stinky! Even Old Na says no!"

"Boss! Give it up!"

"Spices! Cover up the stink with spices! Hahaha, I’m truly a genius!"

So—

She was sent out to purchase spices.

Feng Qing didn’t mind much; Boss Mosquito had given her 100 Silver just for running the errand. He might make rash decisions, but his generosity was undeniable.

However, the problem was...

She had no idea what any of these spices looked like, let alone what they were called in United Human language.

To her embarrassment, she couldn’t cook at all. She had tried once in the game and almost lost her own life.

It was much harder than flying a plane...

Having wandered around the market several times, Feng Qing couldn’t find spices that matched the images from an internet search, and she couldn’t help but sigh.

"Anything that’s very fragrant should do... Just buy some randomly."

Had I known, I would have brought Gui Gui along.

As she circled the stall several times, the spice merchant couldn’t help but ask,

"Hey, Miss, do you need help?"

Understanding the United Human tongue, Feng Qing stopped and nodded.

"Yes, do you have any spices?"

The merchant scratched the back of his head.

"Spices? We have them... but which kind are you looking for?"

"Anything is fine."

Anything is fine? What kind of nonsense is that?

The merchant paused, glancing at a string of garlic hanging under the awning.

"How about this?"

"That’s garlic, right? I’m looking for spices..." Feng Qing frowned, "I think the kitchen already has that. I need the kind with a stronger scent."

Rubbing his head, the merchant said,

"You say spices; garlic is a spice too... A stronger scent? It would help if you were more specific."

"How about... something rare?" Feng Qing added quietly, feeling a bit guilty.

Rubbing his chin with his index finger, the merchant thought for a moment and said,

"Something rare? Exotic spices, perhaps? I’ve heard that Poluo Province does produce some with strong scents. Just the other day, a traveling merchant from there was selling some..."

On hearing the merchant’s words, Feng Qing’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward on the stall.

"Where is he?!"

Startled by her intent gaze, the merchant unconsciously stepped back and coughed before saying,

"He’s already gone... I saw that he sold out his goods yesterday; he must be on his way back by now."

All sold out...

A hint of disappointment flashed across Feng Qing’s face.

Just then, a hearty shout suddenly came from nearby.

"Exotic spices? I do have some."

The voice came from a slightly larger stall, manned by a man in his twenties or thirties, clad in a leather jacket, smiling at her.

He was not alone in business.

Under the awning, sat two young men of few words, one fiddling with a dagger, the other with closed eyes as if dozing off, neither paying any heed.

Feng Qing’s eyes brightened, and she promptly approached the stall. But after glancing at the items laid out on the wooden table, she was puzzled.

"Do you... sell spices?"

The stall was filled with a mishmash of items.

There were glasses, rings, jewelry, as well as a variety of rifles and bullets of different calibers, and even clothing or backpacks.

There were even several mechanical prosthetics and electronic parts of indiscernible use.

This place didn’t look like it sold spices at all.

It didn’t even seem to qualify as a food vendor.

"Snow is still falling from heaven, we certainly couldn’t display such precious items out in the open," the man chuckled, "The goods are at the hotel, not far from here. If you’re interested, I can take you to get them."

Feng Qing asked with concern,

"Are they expensive?"

"Not at all, you can definitely afford them!" Seeing an easy mark, the man chuckled and kicked the youth playing with the dagger before passing the stall onto him and then circled around from behind the stall, saying cordially, "Follow me, I’ll take you there."

"Okay!"

Feng Qing nodded excitedly and followed behind the man.

The spice seller next to him hesitated, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something. But after glancing around, he closed it again.

That guy was obviously from the Dagger Gang, and the assortment of goods on his stall clearly looked like stolen goods.

He was here to do business, not to look for trouble. He certainly didn’t want his throat slit in the middle of the night.

Watching the little girl follow the gang member and disappear at the edge of the market, he shook his head and clicked his tongue.

Such a pretty girl.

"What a pity."

When they reached the edge of the market and saw that NPC heading towards the slums, Feng Qing couldn’t help but tilt her head in confusion and looked towards the high-rise next to the viaduct.

"Isn’t the hotel over there?"

She remembered that NPCs all lived at the Hotel Wind From Afar.

The man chuckled.

"That’s where the rich merchants stay. We small-time traders can’t afford such luxurious hotels... Come with me, it’s not far ahead."

Luxurious, huh...

Feng Qing glanced at the building towering like a giant wall.

It seemed rather ordinary aside from its height.

But then she remembered this was the Wasteland and let it go.

Just in case, she should send a message to Gui Gui.

With this thought, Feng Qing raised her index finger and tapped a few times on the Vital signs monitor on her left arm to compose a short message.

[Feng Qing: Looks like I might have triggered a hidden mission while looking for spices! Exciting! (•̀∀•́)]

Message composed—

Sent successfully!

After a short wait, a reply came through.

[Gui Gui: Hey, wait, what about the spices? What are we going to do with the spices? We’re all waiting for you!!!]

Feng Qing grinned and typed a few more words.

[Feng Qing: Don’t worry.] (Send failed)

Huh?

Seeing the little bubble behind the message, Feng Qing was slightly taken aback.

Was the signal really that weak?

...

After leaving the market, they walked through the slums for a while, the shacks getting increasingly dilapidated and the alleys narrower.

Finally, in front of a rusty iron door, the man stopped, took a bunch of keys from his waist, and began to search through them.

While he was busy getting the key, Feng Qing took a moment to look around.

In front of her was a narrow courtyard overgrown with weeds, and beyond the courtyard was a red brick building three stories high, each floor had about five or six rooms, and every window was hung with threadbare curtains.

Rather than a hotel, it felt more like a dormitory or a school.

She quickly noticed a rotting signboard with some words that seemed to imply some sort of welfare institute.

This wasn’t really a hotel, was it?

Feng Qing thoughtfully moved her gaze from the weedy courtyard to the other side of the alley, locking eyes with an old woman who was clearing snow.

She had meant to smile, but the old woman’s face changed as if she had seen the plague, quickly shifting her gaze away and hurrying inside her house.

Feng Qing faintly heard the sound of a door bolt sliding into place.

Strange...

Ever since a moment ago, she had felt she might have triggered some hidden missions; otherwise, why would there be so many armed people around?

Now she was more and more convinced that this place was not a hotel at all, and the guy who brought her here was certainly no good person.

"Miss, you’re a resident of the refuge, right?"

Hearing the man strike up a conversation, Feng Qing withdrew her gaze from the other side of the alley and nodded.

"Mm, how did you tell?"

The man chuckled and said,

"Your accent and that unique quality of yours... Wasteland wanderers just can’t compare with you."

This NPC sure had a way with words.

Feng Qing couldn’t help blushing, smiled, and responded,

"You flatter me."

Finally finding the key, the man pushed open the iron gate with a creaking sound and went in first.

It seemed that he was not worried she would run away.

But with such an unusual mission rarely triggered, she never planned to run and followed him with a hint of curiosity.

The two crossed the weedy yard and followed the stone path up to the front door’s two steps, reaching the main entrance of the red brick building.

The man gave Feng Qing a gesture to wait and approached the wooden door alone, gently knocking twice on its surface.

As if someone had been waiting just inside, a crack opened in the wooden door, revealing an annoyed face from behind.

She was a woman in her twenties or thirties, her hair messy, freckles beside her nose—she was actually quite lovely if it weren’t for the burn on her forehead that ruined all sense of beauty.

Her name was Horacca. She had been a prostitute, a tough, and even the mistress of the Dagger Gang leader, now the matron of the Gray House Welfare Institute.

Everyone in the slums knew her.

When children went missing or girls never returned home, they either ran off with Wasteland wanderers or ended up at her place.

"Miles... what are you doing here?" Horacca lowered her hoarse voice, impatiently demanding, "Didn’t Mr. West say we’re stopped for these few days?"

The man named Miles couldn’t conceal the smugness on his face and spoke in a hushed but excited tone,

"He did say that, but this chance is too good to pass up."

The woman quickly glanced at the young girl peeking around behind Miles, and her eyes narrowed dangerously from the shadows.

"A resident of the refuge? Have you lost your mind..."

She could tell at a glance, this guy definitely wasn’t an ordinary Wasteland wanderer.

"She’s alone, without any companions. I’ve been watching her for a long time. Don’t be so timid. There must be tens of thousands of residents in the ’North Suburb’ refuge. By the time the Alliance notices one is missing, it could take days, and by then, we would’ve already passed her on. Those customers up north have been wanting to buy one, right?"

Seeing this crazy woman staring at her intently, Miles hurriedly chuckled and reassured, "Don’t worry... I’ve turned on the jammer. No signal will get out."

He certainly knew that residents of the refuge all carried a vital signs monitor (VM).

He also knew that two VMs could locate each other, which was common knowledge on the Wasteland, just like those Blue Ground Mice and their coats.

Even so, what of it?

Jamming signals was much easier than locating them.

Right after leaving the market, he had turned on the jammer.

The woman’s piercing gaze softened slightly, and she opened the door wider.

"Come in and talk."

Saying this, she looked again at Feng Qing, who was fiddling with her VM behind Miles, and cleared her throat,

"You come in too, it’s strangely cold outside."

"Mm!"

Putting the unresponsive VM back into her sleeve, Feng Qing smiled and nodded, then followed the man called Miles into the house.

The foyer was spacious.

Directly facing the entrance stood a wooden stand, on which were two cages constructed from steel bars, with shackles hanging on the bars, covered in dark smudges that were either rust or blood.

They were probably blood.

As soon as she entered, she immediately smelled a faint odor of rancid grease.

Underneath the wooden stands were about a dozen chairs, which seemed like the spot where some special program had taken place; judging by the signs thrown beside the chairs, those must have been used for bidding at an auction.

Thick dust had settled beside the legs of the stools, indicating that this strange facility had been idle for some time.

As for why she could see clearly, that was also taken for granted.

From a hundred meters in the air, she could clearly see heads buried in trenches, so of course she wouldn’t miss the details so close at hand.

"Is the spice here?" Although she knew it was a pointless question, she still softly called out.

Horacca looked towards Miles, who was momentarily stunned, then, as if he had heard some hilariously funny joke, burst out laughing.

"Spice? Hahaha! Hey, hey... little girl, you couldn’t be unclear about the situation, could you?"

Before his words had even finished, he had drawn his handgun and aimed it at Feng Qing, sneering as he continued.

"Seeing this guy, you should understand now, right?"

Standing to one side, Horacca crossed his arms and threw in a taunt.

"Next life, remember to keep your eyes wide open, it’s rare to be born into a refuge... but don’t be too sad, the madmen up north might be a bit wilder, but it’s much better than on the wasteland."

"Really now, if there’s no spice, just say it clearly, got me all excited for nothing."

Instead of showing the fear or panic the two men expected, Feng Qing slightly smiled and took out a hand grenade, tossing it at her feet.

"As for reincarnation... how about we go together?"

"Damn it!"

Watching the pin and hand grenade rolling towards him, the gun-toting Miles’s face turned drastically pale, and he violently threw himself backwards onto the ground.

This lunatic!

Does she have a death wish?!

Horacca, too, ducked to the side in panic.

Almost simultaneously with lying down, a deafening explosion roared through the hall, with almost ten million candela of blinding white light causing both men to instinctively shut their eyes.

But it was useless.

Not to mention that shutting eyes couldn’t be faster than light, almost ten million candela of a flashbang’s light couldn’t be blocked by mere eyelids.

"Damn it! It’s a flash grenade!"

Crouched behind the stands, Miles shouted in anger and frustration while rubbing his bright red eyes with his left hand, and he fired his gun wildly.

The sound of gunfire echoed in the hall, but he couldn’t hear anything, his brain felt like it was struck by a heavy hammer, and his body lost balance.

At that moment, another, larger hand grenade rolled dingingly to his side.

As he barely made out what it was, his face twisted with horror.

The explosion surged towards the sky, and the visible shockwave swept over the wooden stands, even shattering the windows covered by curtains next to the door.

Miles was dead on the spot, without even the time to utter last words.

Horacca slumped on the ground, looking as if he had been scared silly, utterly pale, with the floor wet with a ginger-colored liquid.

She had once been a hitman for the Dagger Gang and had killed people, but that was all when she was very young.

Even back then, she just fired handguns at rival gangs in the streets and had never been close to being bombed.

Lying by the corridor at the side of the hall, Feng Qing shook her dizzy head and, leaning on the wall, stood up from the ground.

The flash grenade had affected her too, but it wasn’t enough to take away her combat abilities.

After all, she had come from the battlefield, and even if she wasn’t on par with the big shots of the Burning Corps, she wasn’t about to lose to two lackeys.

Looking at the messed-up hall and the charred floor, Feng Qing took out her handgun and chambered it, muttering quietly.

"This powder load might be a bit too much."

With that kind of power, it feels like the fragments are redundant...

Finally recovering from the shock of the explosion, Horacca stealthily got up from the ground, preparing to sneak off from the chaotic foyer.

However, before she could steady herself, the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of her head, followed closely by the not-so-standard language of the United Human from behind her.

"Don’t move, eh, I’m an Awakener after all, I’m sure I’m much faster than you," said Horacca slowly raising her hands, trembling with fear.

"Don’t, don’t shoot!"

She couldn’t for the life of her understand why that polite and gentle-looking girl had such a ferocious combat power.

"I surrender!"

Feng Qing looked at her and continued to ask.

"Are there others here, or just you alone?"

"Dow, downstairs there are some goods... no, there are some slaves, oh no, prisoners," stammered Horacca.

There should have been some enforcers here, but with business on hold recently, no need to entertain clients, and only needing to feed the "goods," she was left here alone.

To avoid attracting the Alliance’s attention, the Dagger Gang had disguised this place as an abandoned building.

Upon this thought, she couldn’t help but curse in her heart the fool who had become a corpse. If he had survived, Mr. West would unquestionably have fed him, dismembered, to the dogs.

Not minding her incoherent change of words, Feng Qing glanced at her left arm’s vital signs monitor (VM).

The signal still hadn’t recovered.

It seemed that this building was also equipped with a jamming device.

At this moment, the courtyard outside the door suddenly filled with messy footsteps and shouting—at least a dozen or twenty people had arrived.

"Looks like we’ve fallen into a den of thieves."

If she had known this hidden mission was this thrilling, she would have brought Gui Gui along as well.

Looking toward the direction of the door and then at the "red-name NPC" with her hands on her head and shivering, Feng Qing murmured to herself.

Just as she was preparing to face the enemy, an explosion suddenly erupted from outside the window and door, sending snow and mud spattering into the room like rain.

"Ah!!!"

No longer able to contain the fear in her heart, Horacca, knocked to the ground by the shock, let out a blood-curdling scream but was quickly silenced by a heavy blow to her head, as she fell unconscious.

"So annoying," said Feng Qing after knocking out the Looter. Pressing her body low, she swiftly moved to the window.

Looking outside, her eyes widened in shock.

"Is that... a missile?!"

The entire front yard looked as if it had been torn up by an excavator, leaving only a wide crater that marked the very center of the yard.

The dust picked up by the explosion caused a mess all around, but didn’t harm any of the surrounding buildings, not even the walls of the courtyard had collapsed.

Such precise targeting clearly didn’t resemble artillery!

A few bodies lay strewn haphazardly next to the crater, and some gang members, who limbs had been blown off, were curled up, emitting faint whimpers.

The explosion had occurred almost instantaneously, so fast that they had no chance to react.

Amidst the rolling thick smoke that enveloped the alley outside, intermittent gunshots and screams could be heard, but all were abruptly and cleanly silenced.

The fight was completely over.

A curvaceous figure strode across the dust-filled courtyard, moving steadily towards the red brick building.

Seeing that raised alloy breastplate and shiny black mirror helmet, and the explosion-proof shield and rifle in the sister’s hands, Feng Qing’s eyes involuntarily shined with a glint of admiration.

"So cool!" she whispered to herself in awe.

What kind of equipment is that?!

Wait, could that be a mechanical prosthesis?

X-16 glanced at the Resident of the refuge pressed against the window sill, and tapped her headgear lightly with her forefinger.

"Target retrieval successful—"

"Mission completed."