What... just happened...
The Asian youth sprawled on the ground looked utterly bewildered. Echoes of panic-stricken screams bounced around his ears while Li Ang's swollen, misshapen figure reflected in his eyes.
The young men and women who had come to the nightclub for fun hurriedly scrambled out of the place. Even the DJ on stage fled, hastily wrapping his cherished vinyl records in his fluorescent green jacket before leaving.
Bystanders crammed at the entrance, while the somber-faced security manager aggressively shoved his way through the people, leading several subordinates toward Li Ang.
Li Ang swiftly and steadily reloaded his handgun and fired at a few enemies. Two shots rang out—BANG! BANG! Two bullets hit the security manager right in the chest, causing him to pause.
He looked down, tearing open his suit jacket, which was pockmarked with bullet holes—there was no trace of blood on his chest; the bullets were firmly lodged in his muscles.
A hint of a smile crossed the security manager's face. He lifted his head to face Li Ang's incredulous expression of shock. He then flashed a sinister smile, revealing four sharp, elongated fangs, each notched with a blood groove.
"You can't kill me, old lady..."
Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Li Ang pull out a Barrett M82A1 from nowhere. Balancing the gun with one hand and gripping the stock with the other, Li Ang said, "Sorry, what were you saying?"
Almost the moment he saw the anti-materiel rifle, the security manager threw himself to the ground and rolled aside.
But Li Ang moved faster, swinging the rifle barrel and fiercely pulling the trigger. "Eat my quickscope!"
BANG!
The gunshot roared like thunder, accompanied by flashes of muzzle fire.
The massive recoil, even after being reduced by the double-chamber V-shaped muzzle brake, was fully absorbed by Li Ang.
The Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle, developed in the 1980s, uses .50 BMG (12.7mm) ammunition. It boasts long range, high precision, and significant destructive power, capable of effectively destroying specialized targets like trucks and helicopters. Thus, it earned the name "anti-materiel rifle."
The M82A1 sniper rifle from the gun shop was not loaded with Norway's Raufoss Mk 211 armor-piercing incendiary rounds. However, when the 12.7mm ammunition hit the security manager's shoulder, it ripped half of his body apart. He was blown away as if struck by a sledgehammer, rolling across the floor like a wild bowling ball.
The subordinates who had been standing behind the security manager stood frozen. The dull, resounding shot still echoed in their ears. It wasn't until Li Ang shifted the gun barrel toward them that they snapped back to reality, turning and fleeing in panic.
If everyone had rushed him at that moment, they could have torn him apart before they were wiped out. However, that would have come at a cost.
No one wanted to be the second bullet's victim, so their only option was to scatter and run. After all, they had the numbers while the other side had just one sniper. Surely, some could escape during his reload break.
"Don't run! I won't hit you!" Li Ang shouted loudly, sounding utterly frustrated.
The security guards ran even more vigorously. They didn't realize that behind them, Li Ang had methodically stowed his sniper rifle and drawn an AK47 assault rifle. Shouting, "Let me show you how to control the AK!" he began firing at them.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.
The gunfire fell like torrential rain, the muzzle flashing continuously.
After the magazine was empty, besides Li Ang, no one else was left standing on the first floor of the nightclub. All the security staff lay on the ground, submerged in warm pools of blood.
"Huh? Why did you lie down so quickly? And you're bleeding red?" Li Ang lifted the still-smoking gun barrel and rubbed his chin. "Aren't the people in the chicken-eating game supposed to turn green?"
With no one there to answer his question, Li Ang turned around to face the Asian man sitting on the ground, still as a statue, and kindly asked, "Little guy, can you still walk?"
"Hm?"
The young man was taken aback, shuddering as if awakening from a dream while looking at Li Ang's benevolent face. He hurriedly answered, his mouth bloodied from a beating, "Yes! I can walk."
"Good." Li Ang nodded and pulled the man up from the ground. "Take this lady and leave by car. Remember to go through the side door."
The young man nodded vehemently. After a moment's delay, he suddenly realized and asked, "What about you..."
"I still have some things to do." A strange smile flashed across Li Ang's face. He turned away, not looking at the young man who was helping the unconscious woman escape through the side door. Assault rifle in hand, Li Ang walked leisurely through the hall. He approached the security manager, whose entire left arm had been torn off by a Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle and who was now passed out in a corner of the room.
"Sleeping quite soundly, huh." Li Ang cocked his head, glanced at the blood-soaked security manager, and poked the gun barrel into the man's broken shoulder, asking with a smile, "Not waking up?"
"AAAHHH!"
The security manager, who had been pretending to be unconscious, could no longer feign it. A hideous expression appeared on his pale face. His torso swelled, bursting his suit and revealing skin covered with a thin layer of black hair.
Blood Clan—he had the bloodline legendary for immortality, eternal youth, and various supernatural powers.
Even though he was just a newly embraced, lowly Blood Slave with no magical or superhuman abilities, his life essence was no longer human, far beyond what normal people could contend with.
As long as I can get close, I can punch right through his chest...
With that thought, he erupted violently. His muscular, sinewy arm swung fiercely at Li Ang, bringing with it a strong gust of wind.
Before the blow even reached him, Li Ang kicked out, light as a feather. His unadorned sneaker hit the man square in the chest. This slammed him hard against a concrete wall, breaking all his ribs and forcing a mouthful of dark red blood from him.
In agonizing torment, the security manager wished he could actually pass out.
But Li Ang continued to approach. He bent down, grabbed the man's hair, and slowly, steadily, peeled off his entire scalp, meanwhile asking gently, "Where is Felix Miller?"
Amidst the excruciating pain, the security manager could hardly maintain his sanity, only managing to scream. This resulted in Li Ang reaching into his shattered shoulder and gently scratching the bones inside with his hand.
Like a cat lazily scratching a scratching post.
"Third... third floor, end of the hallway, on the left! AAAHHH!!" the security manager screamed miserably, as Li Ang continued manipulating his bones.
Li Ang then reached with his other hand into the man's pocket, pulled out a cellphone, unlocked it with the man's fingerprint, and started scrolling through the messages.
This nightclub was indeed full of filth. Backed by the influence of the Miller Family, it engaged in all manner of villainy. They targeted guests who frequented the club, having the security staff drug them before sending them to the VIP rooms of the big shots.
Li Ang browsed through the various files on the phone, the smile on his face growing strange. "You guys sure know how to play, huh."
The collapsed security manager had a look of utter desolation in his eyes. He had already foreseen that, no matter what, the other party would not let him go. Still, he clung to a shred of hope, begging with a pained expression and a faint breath, "Please... I don't want to die. I have a family. Please spare me..."
Li Ang shook his head. He carelessly jabbed his hand into the man's lower back, plucked out a broken rib, and then casually jabbed it into the man's eye socket. Twisting it back and forth, he ended the man's life.
"So disgusting..." Li Ang wiped his hand on the dead security manager's suit, stood up, and looked at a corner of the nightclub. "The stairwell... is over there."