The perpetrator plays with his masterpiece in the dark, enjoying the thrill of revenge, venting and control in exclamation and grief. He has an above-average IQ, knows how to manipulate the damage caused by explosions and arson, has surveyed crime scenes beforehand, and has done a short but detailed enough observation and planning to know where to observe and not make himself appear obtrusive. He knew the victim to a certain extent, and he knew that what he did would affect the innocent, but he didn't care. He doesn't even care if he can kill his victims, he just wants to release the anger, sadness, tyranny, and despair in his heart.

There was a commotion at the bottom of the building, the black and crushed people were crowded, and there were also people stopping to watch on the road across the wall, and there were also many people in the buildings on the front and back sides of the hall windows and staircases. I didn't see a figure among them that I thought it was, but I had a feeling that he hadn't left and was wandering through the crowd looking for me.

I handed Sakiya over to Zuo Jiang and separated from her. I decided to lure the guy out with my own bait. If I'm with Zuo Jiang, the guy who has seen the battle between Mae and the demons might back down. His mind had collapsed, and his thinking circuits had become very different from those of ordinary people, but he was not unable to think. He will follow his own principles and choose the weakest opponent in his own judgment.

Therefore, as long as I am found alone, as long as he is still on the scene, he will definitely appear in front of me.

I judge so and act on it. Zuo Jiang didn't really leave, but just bypassed a certain distance to avoid being seen by the enemy about the connection between us.

I pretended to be frightened and squeezed into the crowd at the bottom of the building, and the fire trucks and ambulances had not yet arrived, and the residents who were the first to learn of the fire and rushed downstairs were in a panic. I just pretended to be at a loss, and everyone couldn't help but shout.

Some people speculated that it was a gas explosion, and most of the people echoed it, and they blamed me for it. Because the place of the accident is my house, and the enemy is indeed coming at me, everyone is just a pond fish that has been affected. I can't explain the reason for this, so I can only smile wryly and prevaricate with words like "I will pay attention next time".

My house was on the sixth floor, and the flames were spreading upwards, not very fast in the rooms below. The residential buildings in the community have been around for quite a few years, and the soundproofing is not good, and even loud movements are well known, and they usually feel distressed by the lack of privacy, but now they should be grateful. After reacting immediately, most of the residents were able to escape, and even the next door was not injured, but was choked for a while, and their faces were blackened and very embarrassed. Everyone shushed each other and asked for warmth, but they didn't see anyone on the seventh floor.

"The lights of those two houses have been dark, and they probably haven't come back yet." Some residents reminded.

The others nodded, not wanting to think about what it would be like if someone was really inside. However, everyone knows that this is probably the case, and the people who live on the seventh floor are young people who have just moved in, often going out day and night, and have no children to take care of, so it is reasonable not to be at home at this time.

Seeing that the number of victims did not increase, the guilt in my heart completely dissipated. After talking to everyone for a while, I heard the sirens of police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances approaching rapidly. The person I was looking for didn't show up, so I made a casual excuse and left the circle to set up a possible ambush point.

My residential building is located closest to the community fence, so it's a good idea to observe from the road, so you can see the fire scene clearly and make it easy to escape at any time. Unless I wanted to check the status of the residents in the same building, the road would be the first target.

By the time they arrived at the community gate, the police had already begun to intervene in the post-disaster management, and the crowd was dispersed outside the cordon belt. I came to the big tree directly facing the side of my building, and in front of me was a group of people watching the excitement. I didn't squeeze in, I just looked for a familiar back in the crowd.

Just then, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Who? When did it get behind me? Completely unnoticed.

The thought of flint flashed through my mind, and I reflexively turned around to draw my gun, but my shoulder was held by a huge force, and it was sore and painful, and I couldn't use it at all. The revolver was snatched away in an instant, and the sensation of being attacked by a sharp object rushed through the skin like electricity.

A familiar feeling, cold hairs stand on end.

I subconsciously popped the dagger out of my left sleeve and blocked it in the lower back, the same area where I had been stabbed a few days earlier. The sneak attacker did it on purpose, and even though the wound had long since healed, there was a phantom pain like a nightmare.

The sharp blade was blocked by the dagger and grazed past his waist. The muscles were sliced open, as if they had been bitten several times by vicious dogs. The dagger stabbed the man back, and the blade immediately drew back along the opening, and the wound widened by a third in a single word.

Metal clash, crisp but faint sounds. I jumped forward with my strength, and so did the people behind me. The force from the weapon was so great that I felt like I had been pushed hard, and my body fluttered lightly, and I had already turned around when I landed five meters away.

The crowd behind me didn't notice the movement, the noise was still loud, but it strangely faded from my eardrums.

There was only one guy in front of me who was wearing a hooded tracksuit and deliberately wearing a hat. Other beings, whether it's people, trees, cars, it's all meaningless scenery. The sound of the wind blowing through the treetops is like the sound of the wind leaking from the set.

The brim of his hat was pressed low, and his head hung slightly, as if he was weak, and his chin hidden in the shadows could be faintly seen. Yet I knew he was staring at me, and that gaze of despair and hatred pierced through the shadows and the brim of his hat and fell on me.

It's like burning.

The kitchen knife in his left hand was dripping blood, the blade looked like it had been used for a long time, and it had never been washed, and it was covered in flesh and blood stains. The right hand, which was supposed to be shot off by me, turned out to be intact, but it looked a little weird.

I touched the wound with my right hand, and the tentacles were warm and wet.

"Shirai." I called out his name.

He raised his head slightly, and the visible area extended from his chin to the tip of his nose. I almost thought I had mistaken someone, it was quite scary. The loose skin was full of wrinkles and blemishes, and in some places it even peeled off, leaving only a trace hanging there. He scratched it lightly with his hand, and the skin fell off, revealing white flesh.

He didn't speak, he swung the kitchen knife suddenly, and his body was like a doll off the line, shaking a few times and falling forward. In the blink of an eye, the distance of nearly ten meters between us disappeared immediately.

So fast! As soon as the words took shape in his mind, he was already raising the blade at an angle lower than his waist. I only had time to lift the dagger before the half-moon blade light swept across my chest and abdomen.

What a crisp hit.

I subconsciously sighed in amazement, took a step back, and blood immediately splattered from the wound.

The wound is very deep, and if it were an ordinary person, I am afraid that he would have seen the back of the god of death.

Shirai's attacks did not stop.

Same as then, no, stronger than then. The shot is more neat, refreshing, without hesitation, and the angle is more tricky, as if you have accumulated a lot of experience.

It's terrifying, it's worthy of being a guy who didn't become a demon emissary, but managed to return from the apocalyptic illusion.

Even if there is no memory, in just a few days after completely releasing oneself, the instinct to kill and fight has been completely integrated into the malignantly strengthened body.

Without the restraint of ethics and the mechanism of physical self-defense, it is as if to compress one's future in this short time.