The muzzle erupted in a burst of flame.

With a loud "crash," a man standing by the dance floor, blocking the statue of the Goddess of Life, suddenly froze in place. In disbelief, he looked down and saw that his abdomen had been blasted open, leaving a bloody, mangled hole.

Through this hole, the statue behind him was visible.

The bullet had passed through his abdomen and struck the base of the statue, sending shards of stone flying everywhere.

The statue lost its support and slowly toppled over, shattering into pieces on the ground. From within, a human figure slowly slid out.

It was a girl, her silhouette just barely discernible as human, and she looked like she was still in school. She wore her hair in a ponytail and was even dressed in school uniform pants. But the visible parts of her body were all emaciated, as thin as sticks, like a crumpled black rag.

The sudden gunshot jolted everyone out of their trance, even causing the DJ to abruptly stop speaking.

Countless faces changed dramatically, staring blankly at William Carter.

"The Demon of Life does not grant life."

William Carter smiled patiently as he explained to them, "The Demon of Life only possesses the ability to strip away or bestow life energy, transferring one unit of life energy from one being to another. It can extract and deprive a person's vitality, turning it into pure life energy, and then grant it to someone else. So, your so-called prayers are merely using the demon to steal the lives of others."

He paused, the corners of his mouth tightening slightly. "You’ve even gotten used to wasting these stolen lives..."

"…"

"You..."

The gothic DJ, it seemed, was in no mood to listen to William Carter's science lesson. Just moments ago, he had been whispering softly and speaking amicably with William Carter, but after the sudden gunshot—especially seeing William Carter mercilessly injure someone and even shatter the statue he worshipped—his eyes instantly turned blood-red, veins bulging on his neck like writhing worms.

"Blasphemer, you are a blasphemer..."

He suddenly gritted his teeth and shouted, "Kill him! Grab him and offer him to the Goddess..."

"Crash..."

That gunshot had left most of those present in shock, but the DJ's shout snapped them back to reality. They saw the shattered statue on the ground and the little girl revealed beneath it, and the panic of having their crime discovered spread once more.

First, a few people in black robes who had been standing behind the DJ reacted the fastest, pushing through the crowd toward the front.

Then, one by one, the other followers' eyes began to gleam with a vicious light, locking onto the lone William Carter in the crowd. Some of the more aggressive young men grabbed bottles, ashtrays, and some strange rubber club-like objects from the tables nearby...

Those unafraid of sharp knives and strong liquor naturally had little fear of bullets.

Their abundant vitality always seemed to stir a destructive impulse deep within them.

Madness seemed to be spreading, fermenting rapidly.

Pairs of eyes turned crimson, bizarre expressions blooming on faces, inching closer in the flickering lights.

"Whoosh..."

At that moment, surrounded in the center, William Carter slowly lowered his head, as if a bit regretful.

"I originally wanted to persuade you all to stay away from the demon..."

Then, he suddenly looked up, and all the smiles abruptly vanished from his face.

"Now I can only proceed with Plan B."

"…"

The next moment, he suddenly charged toward the crowd, pulling the trigger repeatedly.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Holes appeared in the bodies of the black-robed men rushing at him through the crowd, blossoming into lurid, vivid sprays of blood.

Terrified screams rang out.

Broken bodies and severed limbs flew two or three meters away, collapsing tables piled high with drinks.

Even those who worshipped the Demon of Life and possessed abundant vitality could still be killed.

They could quickly heal all sorts of self-inflicted wounds, even recover from the weakening of life force caused by aging, but as long as the trauma and death inflicted in an instant exceeded the energy limit contained in their lives, they would die immediately.

Unfortunately, some of the people in this bar didn't even know that.

The various supernatural experiences they'd had since joining this gathering had filled them with fanatical confidence—until a deafening gunshot suddenly rang in their ears, and they saw a familiar person lose the face and head they once recognized.

William Carter's body twisted nimbly through the chaotic crowd and space. His movements weren't absurdly fast, but they were precise.

He blasted apart the black-robed men with his gun, then shoved the empty weapon back into its holster, not bothering to reload. He busied himself weaving through the chaotic layout, dodging danger while grabbing stools, bottles, fruit skewers, and some rubber club-like object snatched at random, attacking those who came at him or failed to get out of his way.

Panic spread—more people clutched their heads and fled outward than the desperadoes pushing in.

The glaring blood-red filled his vision, and twisted faces were overtaken by fear.