In the screeching sound of the brakes, two cars stopped one behind the other.
Jason grabbed the female pastry chef and rushed out of the car.
Hannibal had unconditional trust in Jason and followed immediately.
The female pastry chef was similar.
Thus, she didn’t struggle at all, but adjusted her body to cooperate with Jason.
Meanwhile, Edward, Bansey, and Griffin in the car behind were even more responsive; they took out their weapons and rolled out of the car after the vehicle in front made a sudden stop.
To ordinary people, a car seems to be a solid defensive measure.
But in the eyes of Edward, Bansey, and Griffin, it was a coffin.
As he approached one of the attackers, carefully checking his surroundings, he failed to see Jason approaching from behind.
The next moment, Jason suddenly raised his hand and covered the man’s mouth.
The man’s voice was stifled within his chest, and he was forcibly dragged into the thick fog.
In an instant, all that was left on the spot was the rolling fog.
And Jason, stepping out once again.
One moment was all Jason needed to deal with him.
And he was not the first.
Nor would he be the last.
Jason, wearing a hockey mask, moved through the dense fog, coldly hunting his next target.
One passed by right in front of him, yet failed to notice Jason.
Without any flourish, Jason raised his hand and struck with his knife.
The man clutched at his throat as he fell, but Jason grabbed the body and dragged it into a corner.
In this corner, there were already four bodies.
And there were five attackers left.
Jason was not anxious.
He patiently moved towards his next target.
This attacker was dressed just like the previous ones.
The difference was, he held a gun in one hand and a dagger in the other, his eyes vigilantly scanning his surroundings, ears listening.
Clearly, this attacker was more prepared to react.
But it was utterly useless.
Jason approached him, his broad-bladed short-handled machete whistling through the air, before penetrating the man’s chest.
Although the attacker turned as he heard the whistling sound, Jason, who was prepared and very close, was undoubtedly faster.
The attacker could only look down at the blade protruding from his chest and then fell to the ground, never to rise again.
Just like before, Jason grabbed the body and dragged it into the corner, piling it on top of the attackers he had already dealt with.
Jason thought to himself, once again disappearing into the dense fog.
The sound of the blade cutting through flesh and blood, one after another, finally made the attackers in the fog unable to bear it any longer.
“Everyone, converge on me!”
“Everyone, if you hear me, converge on me!”
The last attacker was shouting loudly.
Then he heard footsteps.
His face lit up with joy, and he ran directly towards the direction of the footsteps.
He had had enough of this silent slaughter.
He didn’t want to die.
But he was too weak by himself; he needed to find a companion he could rely on, so that they could make a final stand against this silent killer.
If he could meet a few more people, the attacker wouldn’t mind at all.
Unfortunately, as he rushed towards the source of the footsteps, all he saw was a tall figure wearing a hockey mask.
The knife in the figure’s hand was already raised high.
The next moment, it came slashing down—
The fog gradually faded away.
Edward, Little Bansey, Griffin, and others who had been watching the battlefield, witnessed a scene they would never forget.
Jason, wearing a hockey mask and holding a broad-bladed machete, stood silently beside a pile of more than ten bodies, the breeze blowing against the hockey mask, his eyes calm.