At the beginning of March, Rong City was a bit chilly, with nighttime temperatures below 15 degrees. The young women, each stunningly beautiful yet shivering from the cold, wore short skirts and radiated enthusiasm toward the men passing by.

Whenever a man walked by alone, a girl would inevitably approach and softly ask, “Save the People?”

Out-of-towners thought these girls were quite international, opening with English.

But the local regulars all understood—this was a Shushan dialect phrase: Master, do you want a hot pie?

There was a certain coincidence with the English phrase—the young ladies did indeed need saving.

There were always compassionate men willing to spend money to “save” these fallen young women.

Tonight, however, things were different. Willow Street had been cordoned off.

A squad of fully armed agents was dispersing the onlookers.

Inside the cordon, several young women in short skirts lay collapsed by the roadside, their bellies ripped open by sharp claws, intestines spilling out.

A team of agents, using vehicles for cover, aimed their dark gun barrels at an entertainment venue on the street—Feitian Foot Massage Parlor.

Cries and screams came from inside the parlor; the guests and staff were trapped by something.

Bang!

A figure flew out, crashing heavily to the ground.

It was a young woman in a technician’s uniform, and the sight upon landing was horrifying.

Before being thrown out, she had been attacked by claws, her belly slashed open, internal organs scattered everywhere.

The scar-faced female commander in charge glanced at the deceased, her brows furrowing into a deep crease.

Her name was Alice White, captain of the Special Operations Unit of the Public Security Bureau.

The Special Operations Unit had a nickname: the Demon-Hunting Squad.

With a style even tougher than most men, those familiar with Alice White all called her Brother Mountainwind.

The woman lying dead on the ground was the seventh hostage the killer had thrown out.

Every five minutes, the killer would kill one person and toss them out.

Judging by the method of killing, it was obvious the perpetrator was not human.

There were still at least thirty hostages being held inside the foot massage parlor.

Suddenly, a hoarse voice came from inside: “Listen up, people outside. I’ve changed my mind. If you don’t get lost, I’ll kill one person every minute.”

The accent was extremely strange, not like any human way of speaking.

This kind of demon that could speak human language had awakened intelligence, making it much harder to deal with than those that couldn’t talk.

Here was a living example—the demon knew how to take hostages.

Considering the safety of dozens of hostages, Alice White was caught in a dilemma, unable to put her skills to use.

At times like this, Brother Mountainwind desperately wished Consultant Parker would arrive sooner.

Although Consultant Parker was an ordinary person, he had a hidden talent—he could always find a demon’s weakness and solve the problem in the most effective way.

Henry Parker also had a set of skills that earned Alice White's respect; more than once, he had negotiated face-to-face with demons.

As Engels once said: When the world needs such a person, he will appear.

A police car stopped outside the cordon—the man had arrived.

Alice White secretly breathed a sigh of relief. As long as that man showed up, things would be simple.

Bang!

Alice White had barely been happy for a few seconds when the eighth hostage was thrown out.

It was a young man with dyed yellow hair, dressed like a rapper.

He’d had his neck twisted before being thrown out, and his belly was also slashed open.

Witnessing all this, the agents felt their scalps tingle, their hands trembling slightly as they gripped their guns.

Without a word, Henry Parker walked over to examine the yellow-haired corpse.

Alice White stood silently by, afraid to interrupt Consultant Parker's train of thought.

Ten seconds later, Chubby stood up and said to Grace Bennett, “Come with me.”

He then had Grace Bennett get in the car, while he leaned against the car door, saying something.

Alice White didn’t go over to ask. Based on past experience, Consultant Parker was setting up a tactic.

The mad beauty’s tactics were often wild, beyond the comprehension of normal people.

At times like this, asking questions would only waste time and cost more hostages their lives. Alice White was already used to not asking why, just waiting for the result.

Grace Bennett sat in the car, her mind full of questions: “Consultant Parker, why am I sitting in the car alone?”

Chubby said something shocking: “Take off your sanitary pad.”

Grace Bennett immediately blushed: “Is this really the time? Why are you saying this?”

She had another sentence she couldn’t say aloud: How did you know I was on my period?

Chubby urged, “No time to explain, hurry up!”

He turned around and waited quietly for Emily.

Grace Bennett bit her lip. After a rustling sound, she handed a bundle out the car window: “Here.”

Chubby was quick, took the item, and walked toward the entrance of the foot massage parlor.

The killer was about to murder the ninth hostage when suddenly a voice came from outside: “Fellow demon inside, this isn’t doing anyone any good. Why don’t we talk? I’m just an ordinary person, no threat to you. How about you let me in? If not, you can take me as a hostage.”

The killer shouted, “Throw away your gun and come in alone.”

“I’m not carrying a gun.” Henry Parker raised both hands to show he was unarmed.

“Fatty, cut the crap. Take off your clothes before you come in,” the killer snarled.

“No problem, I’ll take them off right now.”

Henry Parker said it and did it.

He moved quickly, tossing his suit jacket to the ground.