Duron Street No. 111, fifth floor.
Aunt Lym stood before a crowd of relatives, her voice clearly recounting the hardships of the past.
Watching the relatives’ faces adorned with feigned sorrow and their eyes filled with impatience, she sighed softly.
“I know what your purpose is in coming here,”
the elderly woman said slowly.
Her tone became devoid of any emotion.
The relatives were taken aback, and several eloquent ones were about to speak in their defense.
But the old lady did not give them the chance to speak.
She waved her hand and said,
He could only be at the mercy of others.
Yet he didn’t give up and continued to shout loudly,
“Aunt Lym, I am not a Secret Agent!”
“I’m not… wuuu wuuu wuuu.”
Before Torder could finish his words, his voice was completely silenced because one of the relatives had gagged him.
Then, everyone around Torder began a frenzy of punching and kicking.
Everyone was exerting their full strength.
For only in such a way could one catch the old woman’s eye.
But soon, everyone realized that it was useless.
Everyone was the same.
Under the same conditions, how could one stand out?
I must make myself stand out!
Such thoughts emerged from the bottom of everyone’s heart, and soon, they found the way to make themselves stand out.
A relative picked up a dinner knife from the corner and plunged it straight into Torder’s body.
The blade cut through flesh and blood.
A crimson tide spread.
Watching the bloodshed before their eyes, everyone’s eyes turned bloodshot. They breathed heavily, like hyenas fighting over a meal.
More dinner knives were thrust into Torder’s body.
At first, Torder could still whimper.
But just a few seconds later, Torder fell completely silent.
Numerous dinner knives stood erect on the corpse.
The corpulent Torder resembled a ‘roast pig’ ready to be put into the oven on a large plate.
The sauce was too vivid.
The sight seemed to pierce the old woman, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes.
This only further provoked the relatives who sought to stand out.
They no longer looked at the dead Torder.
A dead man poses no threat to them.
A murderous intent was born.
They eyed each other warily.
They gripped the dinner knives in their hands tightly.
They charged at each other.
And I’ll be the only one!
Roars and wails echoed throughout the grand hall of 111 Duron Street.
This noise lasted a full ten minutes.
When the sounds ceased, the old woman opened her eyes.
She resumed her stern and indifferent demeanor.
Even faced with corpses strewn all over, she did not exhibit the slightest change.
She walked through the crimson liquid as if strolling in her own backyard garden.
Striding through the entire hall, she pushed open the door and stepped out.
However, just as she was about to close the door, a blood-stained hand suddenly grabbed the doorframe.
“I’m the only one left!”
Blood covered the other person’s face, making it impossible to see clearly.
But anyone could feel the other’s joy and madness.
The old woman turned and looked at him.
Without a word, she silently stood for about two seconds before pointing behind him.
The other instinctively looked back.
Their face of ecstasy was replaced with horror.
All those he had killed had risen.
They were all walking towards him.
“Don’t come any closer!”
The other roared, attempting to flee the hall.
The door of the hall closed.
“Aunt Lym, open the door!”
Screams replaced the curses.
And then, they quickly faded away.
All that remained were chewing sounds.