The young patrol officer finished speaking and ran out before his two colleagues could respond, looking as if he were in a great hurry.
The two officers in the interrogation room exchanged glances. Without delay, they checked Goethe's handcuffs to ensure they were secure before quickly heading outside.
Step, step, step!
The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.
Then, a figure slipped into the interrogation room.
It was none other than the young patrol officer from just moments ago.
At this moment, his gaze, filled with malice, locked onto Goethe. The malice grew even stronger, tinged with a hint of triumph, as he noticed Goethe's surprise.
The man approached step by step. When he finally stood before Goethe, he looked down at him and sneered—
"Did you really think you could escape?"
"But don't worry, you're still useful. I won't kill you here."
"So…"
"I'll just make sure you can't move!"
As he spoke, he raised his fist and strode forward with a twisted grin on his face.
But in the next instant—
Bang!
His grin froze.
He lowered his head to see Goethe's raised foot.
More precisely, the foot that had landed squarely between his legs.
A brutal kick.
"Aaaahhh!"
A piercing, high-pitched scream erupted, strangely shrill.
As Goethe retracted his foot, the man doubled over, clutching his groin, staggering backward in agony. But before he could fully retreat, Goethe's leg, having just been pulled back, shot up again—his knee striking the man's chin with force.
Bang!
The man's head snapped backward.
Then, his body collapsed limply onto the floor in front of Goethe.
Without hesitation, Goethe stepped forward and stomped down repeatedly.
The solid heel of his leather shoes pounded against the man's face, skull, and neck like a relentless downpour.
Thud, thud, thud!
Crack!
A sharp, brittle sound echoed.
The man's neck snapped.
Only after confirming that the man had stopped breathing and could no longer resist did Goethe finally stop.
Seated in his chair, he gazed at the corpse on the floor, a gleam flashing in his eyes.
Just now, to eliminate his opponent both efficiently and safely, he had directly used [Bloody Honor] to enhance his [Unarmed Combat] skill!
And the result?
Even better than expected!
[Unarmed Combat (Beginner) → Unarmed Combat (Proficient)]
[Unarmed Combat (Proficient): Your solid foundation, coupled with numerous real combat experiences, has further refined your physique and technique. Among amateur fighters, you now rank among the best. Effect: Physique +0.3 (Basic, Beginner, Proficient: +0.1 each), Technique +0.2 (Beginner, Proficient: +0.1 each)]
...
Reading the game-like upgrade text before him, Goethe carefully assessed the changes in his body.
"It's not just an enhancement in one aspect, it's a comprehensive boost in strength, speed, reaction time… even my vision, sense of smell, and hearing have improved instantly. And the techniques… it's as if I've practiced them hundreds or even thousands of times."
"So this is 'Physique' and 'Technique'?"
"Then…"
"What is 'Mind'?"
Goethe pondered, his gaze shifting to the stat that remained at zero.
But his thoughts were soon interrupted.
He looked down at the corpse on the floor.
The scene just now had been somewhat unexpected.
By his estimation, the official agency capable of dealing with the 'Hidden World' should have been extremely secure.
Yet, there had been a planted assassin inside.
"The force hunting me is stronger than I imagined. They've even infiltrated official institutions."
"But fortunately, they only had one agent inside. If they had more, they wouldn't have acted alone or used such a crude trick to lure the guards away."
Goethe was certain that the supposed 'mass shooting on Pinewood District' had been nothing more than a few gunshots fired into the air to draw the police's attention, giving the assassin an opportunity to strike.
"It must have been a massive effort to plant this agent."
"This person was different from the 'Goethe's friend' role—they weren't mere cannon fodder. They were an 'insurance policy' meant to clean up the aftermath."
"With both cannon fodder and an 'insurance policy' arranged… just what kind of people did the 'Wayne' family provoke?"
Goethe narrowed his eyes as he studied the corpse on the floor.
Back in his hometown, Goethe had witnessed similar tactics before—throwing out prepared 'scapegoats' to tie up loose ends while having an 'insurance policy' in place just in case.
But the ones who used such methods were always formidable, highly dangerous figures.
Or outright major players in the game.
Yet, the 'Wayne' family was just a provincial landowning family. No matter how he looked at it, they shouldn't have attracted that level of trouble.
The mysteries in Goethe's mind only deepened.
As he pondered, he waited.
He knew the officers who had left wouldn't be gone for long.
And indeed, they weren't.
Roughly ten minutes later, a series of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Step, step, step.
The sound of leather shoes against concrete approached swiftly. Goethe's gaze turned toward the door.
Soon—
The middle-aged officer from earlier entered, followed by the two guards.
Upon seeing Goethe still firmly cuffed to the chair, all three let out a breath of relief.
But the moment they noticed the corpse on the ground, their relief turned to shock.
"Soko!"
One of the officers gasped, while another rushed over to check on their fallen colleague.
After checking his breath and pulse, the officer turned back to the middle-aged officer with a grim expression.
"He's dead!"
The middle-aged officer immediately raised his gun and aimed it at Goethe, eyes brimming with hostility.
The other two officers drew their batons and flanked him.
But Goethe's attention wasn't on them.
Instead, he looked toward the door.
Behind the three officers stood another figure.
The man hadn't entered yet, merely watching the scene unfold from the doorway.
He was a tall, bearded middle-aged man with curly, disheveled brown hair and murky eyes. His body reeked of alcohol, and despite standing at the threshold, the stench reached Goethe's nose clearly.
Noticing Goethe's scrutiny, the man first confirmed that Goethe was still securely restrained before stepping inside with a deliberate, measured gait.
Ignoring the corpse, he gestured for the middle-aged officer to lower his gun and introduced himself.
"I am Swart, sheriff of Lustre."
"I'm in charge of your case."
"And not the one you turned yourself in for."
The sheriff drawled out his words, seeming satisfied only when he had everyone's attention before continuing—
"I just received an anonymous tip."
"It says…"
"You murdered your younger brother."