Chapter 91: How Do You Want to Die?
A dilapidated junkyard.
Four or five figures dressed in wide black robes surrounded a massive, mountain-like body.
Beside them lay Hank, barely alive from torture.
"Boss Michelin, is that Mason really coming?" one of the robed figures asked.
The mountain of flesh known as Michelin picked his nose. "Don't worry, he'll definitely come. Mason hasn't even been crew leader for a month, and his runners have already been kidnapped. If he doesn't come to rescue them, his whole team will fall apart."
As they were talking, two figures slowly appeared at the entrance of the junkyard.
It was Tom and Mason.
"Holy crap, they really came!" one of the robed figures exclaimed, looking around.
"He didn't come alone, did he?"
"Is this kid an idiot?"
"He doesn't really think he can get his guy back just by talking, does he?"
"Why not?" A robed figure lewdly thrust his hips. "Michelin, let me check him out first. If he's good enough, we'll give this runner back to him!"
"Haha...!" The group laughed mockingly at Mason.
"You degenerate, I heard you got a new toy last month. Planning to try it out later?" Michelin pointed his thick finger at the robed figure who'd just spoken.
While they were talking, Mason had already arrived before the group. Tom wanted to flee, but seeing Mason's calm expression, he felt that if he dared to run, he'd be instantly killed.
Mason frowned as he looked at Hank, who'd been severely tortured.
"Who sent you?"
Michelin was taken aback, glancing at Mason with slight surprise. "Kid, you're not as dumb as you look, are you?"
"Then why'd you dare come alone?" As he spoke, his eyes, squeezed into slits by the fat on his face, darted around, apparently searching for possible backup.
"Release him, then tell me who sent you, and I'll grant you one mercy: you can live!" Surrounded by the group, Mason spoke calmly and coldly.
Silence fell over the area, followed by a burst of deafening laughter.
"Hahaha, that's hilarious!"
"Kid, I heard you just became crew leader near Chiba Street. Don't you know anything about the Blood Source Society?!" A robed figure laughed wildly, suddenly ripping off his hood.
His pupils were an eerie orange-yellow, and his enormous mouth took up half his face. When he spoke, his jaw, full of razor-sharp teeth, unhinged like a snake's, capable of easily swallowing an adult's head whole!
Tom, standing nearby, paled in terror.
The Blood Source Society members were a group of fanatical genetic modifiers who believed in humanity's inherent savagery and relentlessly pursued their own primal nature. Using illegal gene-modification compounds, they transformed themselves into hybrid monsters.
Rumor had it that a major biotech corporation was backed by the Blood Source Society. Of course, advanced bio-modification technology didn't just pursue power—aesthetics were also considered. These people, however, had gone to the opposite extreme.
Following the first robed figure's lead, the others also loosened their robes, revealing their grotesque, modified bodies.
Chris, hiding in the shadows, gasped. "Five modifiers! And Michelin is heavily modified. Is all this force really necessary just to muscle in on territory?"
"Oh no! They want to kill Mason! Mason's in serious danger!" He seemed to realize something, his expression changing as he exclaimed in alarm.
"Boss Chris, what do we do?" The runner beside Chris touched his weapon, asking nervously.
"Everyone, don't be rash. Wait for my signal. We're too far away right now. We'll find an opportunity to get closer and surround them in a fan formation. You guys handle the robed ones, and I'll deal with the fat guy in the middle..."
"Everyone, be careful not to hit Mason or his runner."
Before Chris could finish speaking, the situation suddenly changed.
"Fine, don't talk then. I'll find out myself!" Mason sneered, his hands flicking as the metal rings on his wrists vibrated downward, producing a series of crisp metallic clicks. When he raised his hands, they were encased in metal gauntlets.
He slightly curled his fingers and flexed them upward, and with a soft snikt, ten gleaming blades extended from his fingertips.
Then he plunged them into the gaping maw of the robed figure!
THUNK!
The blades pierced the man's brain, and he died instantly without even a sound!
It all happened so fast that those around him hadn't even had time to react. The mocking smiles on their faces were still frozen when, in the next instant, Mason pounced like a predator among prey.
He twisted and delivered a devastating punch to a nearby robed figure's chest. With a sickening cracking sound, the man's ribcage collapsed inward, blood spurting from his mouth as he screamed and crashed into the garbage heap behind him.
"Die!"
A robed figure with thick, pale, modified skin on his arms swung them—as thick as tree trunks—at Mason's head.
Mason took a step back, gathered his power, and met the strike head-on without hesitation.
A cruel glint flashed across the robed figure's scarred, grotesque face. His arms had been injected with hybrid genes, his bones deformed into thick, reinforced structures. With a full swing, he could kill a bull!
In his eyes, Mason was nothing more than an agile fool wearing strange gloves—daring to trade blows with him meant certain death.
CRACK!
The moment their strikes collided, the viciousness on the robed figure's face vanished, replaced by excruciating pain and terror. A deep crater formed where his fist met Mason's—bones shattered and flesh exploded. Before he could even scream, Mason surged forward, closing the distance, his blades slashing across the man's throat in a spray of arterial blood.
"This guy's a monster!"
The remaining two robed figures, no longer arrogant, roared and tried to retreat. Mason moved with blinding speed, easily tearing through their defenses and driving his blades into their hearts!
From the moment Mason attacked until the end, a mere five seconds had passed. Five robed figures died one by one, blood and viscera spilling across the ground, the entire junkyard filled with the metallic stench of death.
"Boss... Boss, what just happened?" The runner beside Chris stammered, eyes wide with shock.
Chris swallowed hard, rubbed his eyes, and verified what he'd seen several times. "Looks like we don't need to help anymore..."
Mason glanced at Michelin, who was still standing there frozen, and casually asked while wiping the blood from his blades,
"So, how do you want to die?"
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