Chapter 117: The Right Way to Start a Road Trip—Run Into a Real-Life Horror Movie!
Cold hard cash really is a beautiful thing.
The price Carlisle offered in his study left Edward Connor quite satisfied.
For the Cullen family, money was the least of their problems.
Centuries of accumulated wealth—using what were basically just numbers to them to gain the goodwill, or even protection, of a terrifying entity who could instantly kill their kind—was an incredibly worthwhile deal.
And for Edward Connor, it was pure profit with zero investment.
Edward hummed a tune as he left Forks in high spirits.
He first stopped by the school to finalize his early withdrawal from the exchange program with the principal.
The principal expressed deep regret over losing such a brilliant student, even offering generous incentives to make him stay, but Edward politely declined.
No way was he wasting his time playing house with a bunch of teenagers.
Stepping out through the school gates, he didn't choose to silently utter "Devil May Cry" and directly open a portal back to the agency.
While that was convenient, he preferred the feeling of being on the road.
He straddled the aggressive, futuristic Fenrir motorcycle, twisted the throttle, and with a deep, thunderous roar of the engine, the bike shot onto the highway like black lightning.
Wind howled in his ears, and the scenery blurred past on both sides.
This feeling of free riding captivated him. An unknown journey, unknown landscapes, and... unknown events that could happen at any moment.
This was what made travel fun.
Night fell.
Edward was cruising his motorcycle down a desolate stretch of interstate highway.
It was far from any city's hustle and bustle, with vast cornfields stretching on both sides of the road, looking like a silent ocean under the moonlight.
Just then, he spotted a small farmhouse with lights on up ahead. Faint music and laughter drifted from it, like someone was throwing a party.
"Someone's having fun."
Edward smirked, preparing to speed past.
However, as the motorcycle approached the expansive cornfield, his keen hearing picked up some discordant sounds.
They weren't coming from the house, but from deep within the adjacent cornfield.
It was a mixture of terrified screams and the sound of some sharp implement slicing through the air...
"Huh?"
Edward slowly decelerated, pulling the motorcycle to the roadside.
He removed his helmet and tilted his head, listening.
Now he heard it more clearly.
This wasn't party noise—these were genuine, blood-curdling screams of terror.
Then came a short, shrill shriek that abruptly cut off.
Edward raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest crossing his face.
"Interesting. Out here in the middle of nowhere and I stumble onto a show?"
He killed the engine, parked the motorcycle, and headed toward the source of the sounds.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the cornfield.
Quinn and her two best friends were trembling with fear, backs pressed against an old pickup truck, staring in horror at the dark, gaping maw of the cornfield before them.
"Wh-what was that sound?" a blonde girl asked, her voice shaking.
"Maybe... maybe it's Matt and the guys messing around!" the other girl said, though her voice was already choked with tears.
Just minutes ago, they'd been fooling around with their boyfriends nearby.
Matt and a few other guys said they wanted to go into the cornfield for some thrills, even grabbing creepy clown masks they'd found in the party house.
At first, they could hear strange shouts and scare tactics from inside, assuming it was just the boys being idiots.
But then that scream—one that didn't belong to any of them—rang out, and then... nothing.
WHOOSH!
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
Before the blonde girl could even scream, an arrow pierced her throat with deadly accuracy.
"Ghhk..."
She clutched her neck, blood gushing between her fingers, and her body crumpled to the ground, eyes wide with shock.
"AHHH—!"
Quinn and her remaining friend let out screams that pierced the night.
Before they could react, a round object was thrown from the cornfield, rolling to their feet.
It was a human head.
Matt's head—the same Matt who'd been bragging about scaring them just minutes ago. The clown mask he wore was soaked with blood, his eyes wide open, frozen in absolute terror.
"Oh God..."
The last girl, seeing this, couldn't take it anymore and dropped to her knees, dry heaving.
Quinn's mind went blank. Fear, like an icy flood, completely engulfed her.
This was no prank!
Rustle... rustle...
The sound of cornstalks swaying came from all directions, like countless serpents closing in from the darkness.
Then figures emerged from the cornfield.
They all wore grotesque, twisted clown masks, carrying an assortment of brutal weapons.
Rusty scythes, roaring chainsaws, blood-crusted hammers, even old double-barreled shotguns...
A dozen or so "clowns" surrounded the small clearing, cutting off all escape routes.
They didn't speak—just advanced with eerie, deliberate steps, closing in. The eyes behind their masks were full of mockery and cruelty, like predators savoring their prey's final moments.
This wasn't a party. This was a slaughterhouse!
"Run... we have to run!"
Quinn finally snapped back to reality. She pulled up her still-gagging friend and turned to bolt toward the highway.
But a clown wielding a chainsaw had already blocked their path.
VRRRRR—
The ear-splitting roar of the chainsaw filled the air, accompanied by maniacal laughter. The clown raised the chainsaw high and brought it down toward Quinn's head!
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut.
CLANG!
The expected pain didn't come. Instead, there was a sharp sound of metal on metal.
Quinn cautiously cracked open one eye.
A tall figure had appeared in front of her, his back to her.
He'd casually caught the spinning chainsaw blade between two fingers!
The chainsaw's engine whined in protest, sparks flying, but it couldn't advance another inch.
The clown holding the chainsaw froze, the eyes behind his mask filling with confusion.
"Making all this noise in the middle of the night, disturbing people—that's really rude."
Edward Connor tilted his head, then slightly squeezed the fingers holding the chain.
SNAP!
The steel chain broke like a stale pretzel!
Then Edward, without even looking, delivered a backhand slap.
CRACK!
A resounding smack.
The burly clown, along with his chainsaw, was sent flying sideways like he'd been hit by a freight train, crashing through several rows of cornstalks before slamming into the ground, silent and still.
The entire scene instantly fell into deathly quiet.
All the clowns stopped, staring in disbelief at this sudden intruder.
Edward shook his hand as if he'd just swatted an annoying mosquito. He looked around at the weirdos in their costumes, then at the scattered bodies and severed head on the ground, and a cold smile curved his lips.
"Perfect. The drive was getting kinda boring anyway."
He cracked his neck, producing a series of sharp pop-pop-pop sounds.
"Come on, clowns. Let's see what else you've got besides scaring teenage girls."
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