An embarrassed figure ran wildly in the corridor. Screaming, begging and pleading for mercy.
Well, correction, calling him running wildly is a bit of a stretch. As he was lying on the ground, one leg twisted in the opposite direction, and could only crawl with the remaining three limbs.
Every time he crawled forward, his lame leg would hit the ground hard, causing severe pain that would make him break out in a cold sweat.
But the vulture couldn't care less now. He just gritted his teeth and shook his limbs desperately, just to increase his speed a little.
Where was he running to? He didn't know. He only knew that if he continued to stay, he would definitely die.
That demon…
He didn't know where he provoked such a scary person. It's not because of the man and that woman.
Was he trying to rob supplies? Also wrong.
With Damian's strength, there is no need to go to such trouble to get supplies.
Is it the hatred before the end of the world?
Is it about that unlucky waiter whose legs he broke after he drank too much?
I heard that he has a child who is in high school, and was doing a part time job. A few years have passed since then, and the age seems to somewhat match.
Or is he a relative of the man who stole a woman from him and was later beaten to become a member of the eunuch gang?
Or that fat student, whom he forced to eat a dead frog just as a prank.
Or the friend of that young lady whom he raped two years ago when she was passed out in club?
He had no idea.
Unexpectedly, he has offended too many people over the years.
'Mom was right, I shouldn't have hung out with bullies and turned into a bad goon instead of getting a job. I should've listened.'
'Wait people, yeah… where are my people?
Where are the men inside the stronghold?'
'Could it be...were they all killed?' The vulture couldn't believe this conjecture.
It is true that Damian walked into the room generously and carried a long sword.
But now it's almost night time and maybe everyone had gone back to their rooms to do their own thing. Damian probably just sneaked in, and didn't encounter many enemies along the way.
But why? Why is it so quiet in the stronghold now!
The vulture roared in his heart as he crawled around a corner.
And then, the answer appeared.
A thick arm appeared in front of Vulture. He recognized the tattoo on the arm. The owner of this arm was the strongest person in his stronghold, far beyond the level of ordinary people, allowing him to move freely among the zombies.
But now, the other party was cut into several sections and laid on top of other corpses.
A pile of corpses forming a little mountain, and blood gushing out, flowing steadily like a river.
The corpses of more than thirty people were spread on the carpet in the corridor like decorations.
It wasn't just as simple as being killed.
There are basically no good people in this stronghold, and as a member of the bastard gang, Vulture knows very well that if they encounter an invincible enemy, it is impossible for everyone to resist the opponent all the time, but they will choose to escape as soon as possible.
But these people did not escape from the twenty-meter corridor.
What a terrifying speed and killing efficiency one must have to kill them so soon.
To know, after evolving, they didn't even need a second to escape for twenty meters. Even so, these people still didn't escape that demon's blade.
But now is not the time to think about such things.
Run.
Must run.
It was not easy to be able to ride on the heads of those people in the past and dominate. He had just enjoyed this kind of life and power for a few days, how could he die in a place like this.
"Tap tap tap..."
The footsteps that sounded like a reminder made the vulture collapse emotionally.
He bit his lip tightly, blood spurted out from between his teeth, his facial features were twisted together, and his face was covered with tears and snot.
"It's really embarrassing." Damian, who was walking unhurriedly at the back, thought of this.
Garbage is just garbage.
If he is to be killed, he should still put up a fight, and if he can't, then look death in the face and go out like a real man, instead of looking like a dead dog with a lame leg like the vulture is now.
To this day, he still can't figure out why he died under the betrayal of such a person.
Why didn't he notice that his subordinates were so cowardly?
He's not some idiot with only dick in his mind and brain between his balls.
Was it because the acting skills of these three subordinates were so good?
If the three of them even had that ability, Damian wouldn't look down on them so much.
If it weren't for the lack of strong manpower in the previous life, and the fact that only a few of them could do bad things openly and execute his orders, Damian wouldn't have taken these garbage as his subordinates.
Because of this, he never trusted them 100%, but at the last moment, when he was up against Arthur, he started trusting the three of them as if his brain had been blinded by an idiot.
Is this the power of the hero's halo? – Not only will the hero encounter adventures and opportunities one after another, but it can also lower the enemy's IQ.
If this is the case, then he'll have to think carefully about future strategies.
After all, no matter how perfect the strategy is, it also requires the wisdom of the executor. If the IQ of the executor and planner plummets suddenly, no matter how perfect the plan is, it will fail.
Like how a mastermind villain in last life failed by the betrayal of his dog who gave the villain's diary and trap map to Arthur after eating his biscuits for a few days.
(Like why did the villain even keep his plans in the diary or even form a map marking all traps, when in apocalypse one has improved brain power to remember many things and even multitask.
The answer obviously is fate fucking him up.)
"So before I really think of a way, I can't be his enemy, no, the better option would be, I can't let him regard me as an enemy."
Cause many times villains only start acting stupid once the hero knows they are the villain.
Even though he found a way, Damian frowned very unhappily.
Even though his current level is high, his intuition told him that no matter how hard he crushes the protagonist, if he really takes action to kill, he will definitely end in failure.
It's not that Arthur can inexplicably explode and kill Damian, but Damian feels that there is a high probability that he will be interrupted by some accident, or seriously injure Arthur and then somehow let him escape, and then he'll get some opportunity to become stronger and come back for revenge. .
During the few years when Damian's ghost soul followed Arthur, all the villains who were stronger than Arthur ended up like this.
"Tsk." Damian clicked his tongue, feeling increasingly irritable. Just thinking about Arthur makes him mad.
"Ahh, I'm so angry, can't you just struggle a little longer and give me more pleasure?" Damian stepped on the back of the vulture's head, twisting it left and right like he was stamping out a cigarette butt.
For some time, the Vulture's crawling speed has been much slower. He has just passed through a corridor full of broken glass. His fingers were cut open by the sharp glass, and his flesh and blood were blurred. Every touch was painful.
But the reason he really stopped was probably because he figured out what Damian was doing.
From the beginning, the demon had no intention of letting him leave alive.
It's all just a game of cat and mouse.
"Clouhhh"
It was probably because his nose broke, and blood spurted out along with a weird sound.
"Why... why..." A faint voice came from under Damian's shoes.
Why kill him. Why torture him.
Maybe that's what he wanted to ask.
But Damian did not answer, since this idiot couldn't crawl anymore, Damian just broke his remaining three limbs, grabbed his hair, and came to the open window on the fourth floor, where many zombies gathered below.
Damian tied Vulture to a chair and took out a small knife from his waist pocket.
"I remember that you used to like to play a game." Damian said while using a knife to cut open the vulture's skin. "You like to tie up those who have offended you, then use a knife to make a wound, and then sprinkle some salt into it. You said that listening to their cries of pain will give you great pleasure."
"I feel that now." Damian had an extra white gift card in his hand. "I also have a bag of salt too. So let's play."
"Stop...stop! Stop!" After hearing Damian's words, the vulture, who was sitting on the chair waiting for death, began to struggle wildly, but it was of no use other than making the blood spurt more from his injuries.
Snot and tears welled up again out of fear. At the same time, along with a foul smell, a pool of yellow liquid gathered on the chair.
A grown man peeing in pants, oh what a shame.
"There's still an hour until dark, and we can still get along for a long time. If you can't stand it at this level, it will be very nerve-wracking when I up my game."
As soon as the words fell, small white crystals spilled out, pouring on the vulture's bloody body like a heavy rain. The next moment, hysterical screams exploded in the empty stronghold.
"Ahhhh!!!"
"Shhh shh shhh, something just clicked in my mind, salt or chili?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking what hurts more, salt or chili?" Damian explained slowly like a curious kid, but his words making Vulture squirm like an ant on a hotpot, "Fuck it, since you're not answering, I'll just see it myself."
As his words finished, Damian brought out a bag of red powder chili , showing it to vulture who just closed his mouth, refusing to open it.
"Tsk, such a drama queen Vicky." Damian said as he sprinkled the powder into his eyes and bloody nose, and when the disabled vulture couldn't cry and couldn't breathe, and started screaming, Damian just pulled out his tongue and poured the whole packet in his tongue-less mouth.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh"
"So salt wins huh." Damian said, noticing the difference in screams and his reaction, before throwing away the chili and picking up salt again. "You know I found this in your kitchen, you're so thoughtful. Here, have another bite."
"Aahherrrrhhhhgggg aaa aaaa aaaa yaaaa"
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