At the final moment, the playing card grazed John Baker's face, pierced through the wall behind him, and the razor-sharp wind stirred up by the speeding card brutally tore off a large piece of skin from John Baker's face.

His already somewhat sinister face became even more hideous, and he let out a cry of pain like a demon.

The vampire with two mustaches mockingly pressed down his round-brimmed hat. “Now, who’s uglier?”

“By the way, just so you know, when you die, you’ll look even uglier than you do now.”

A stack of playing cards danced between his palms, changing patterns like the most skilled gambler. Tobias pinched a ‘Joker’ and said, “I’ll be sure to savor your blood.”

Dozens of cards instantly shot from his hands, carving gruesome wounds into John Baker’s body.

But John Baker silently lowered his head, staring at the content that suddenly appeared on his watch, his gaze filled with anger and… sorrow?

[Hope Team member, William Carter has died. Four members remain.]

“Haha…” He clenched his fists, and blood mixed with faint traces of water seeped from his demonically twisted face. “Finally dead…”

“Is death really that exciting for you? My friend, before I take down that piece of shit Alcatraz, I’ll grant you an unforgettable journey of death…”

The handsome ‘Tobias’ looked at his out-of-control enemy and mocked him with a sneer.

“Yes, excited… That annoying do-gooder who always got in the way is finally dead…” John Baker breathed raggedly. “That coward who always dragged us down and stabbed me in the back is dead. I’m so happy, so happy that I…”

Water mixed with blood slid down his face.

“So happy that… I want to cry.”

He lifted his face, now hideous as a demon after losing its skin, casually tore off two dangling strips of flesh from his body, and with his body covered in gruesome wounds, struck a bizarre opening stance, growling in a low voice, “Let me use your head to celebrate…”

His arrogant words provoked his enemy’s furious attack. Dozens of playing cards shrieked through the air, the explosive sound slicing toward John Baker’s weakened body like sharp blades.

Amid the storm and flying blades, the deafening noise could not drown out a deep voice.

“Regret of the Soaring Dragon!”

※※※

As the rocket launcher roared and echoed through the corridor, Henry Clark unhesitatingly pulled Grace Brooks down and shielded her with his own body.

He only felt the breath of a fire dragon sweep past his back, the intense heat instantly burning his skin. He dared not move, pressing Grace Brooks to the ground beneath him. In no time at all, a deafening explosion erupted.

A surging shockwave mixed with stones and scorching metal fragments blasted from behind, gouging shocking grooves into the wall. Henry Clark felt a dull pain in his back as if he’d been shot—he must have been hit by flying debris.

But there was no time to worry about any of that now. Henry Clark pushed himself up from the ground, forcefully pulling Grace Brooks, and, following the direction he’d just identified, ran madly away from the explosion.

Stumbling as he ran, Henry Clark gasped for breath, and Grace Brooks even felt as if her hand was about to be crushed by his grip.

Fortunately, with Grace Brooks desperately dragging him, the frenzied Henry Clark didn’t crash into the wall, but instead collapsed against the wall beside the middle-aged man Uncle Clark, panting.

Henry Clark felt something shoved into his hand—cold, oval, like a sweet potato.

“What’s this?”

“A chemical grenade. It’s loaded with a powerful adhesive incendiary and silver nitrate…” The middle-aged man Uncle Clark watched the thick smoke and ruins stirred up by the explosion, tossing a tactical vest loaded with grenades to Henry Clark.

Without pausing, he dropped the launcher in his hand, pulled another RPG anti-tank grenade launcher from his watch’s storage space, aimed at the center of the smoke, and suddenly pulled the trigger.

“After you pull the pin, just throw it in any direction. If you’re too scared, you can always keep it as a last-resort grenade.”

The middle-aged man Uncle Clark’s hands roared like a fire dragon again as another rocket-propelled grenade was fired into the thick smoke.

“Hurry up, I haven’t heard the prompt yet—he’s not dead!” Uncle Clark gritted his teeth, like a crazed old man, pulling out a brand new launcher from his storage again. “Damn, the stuff I exchanged for before leaving—turned out to be the right choice!”

Suddenly, he felt a vibration on his wrist, and a voice that shouldn’t have appeared came through his earpiece—the voice of William Carter.

He froze, a realization dawning in his mind, but he didn’t dare look down at his watch. He just listened quietly to the words coming through the earpiece.

“Uncle Clark, if you’re hearing this, I’m probably already dead…”

Chapter 12: Dragon Taming

“Uncle Clark, if you’re hearing this, I’m probably already dead…”

The middle-aged man carrying the RPG seemed to age several years in an instant. He spat fiercely on the ground, then pulled the trigger in anger.