Jock Wayne is a rich second generation, and a super rich second generation.

While other peers are fighting for a college offer or a chance to try out for a team, he already has a net worth of hundreds of millions.

But he wasn't satisfied, because it was what he deserved.

Jock never expected to come to earth, because the bloodline inherited from his parents brought him nothing but pain.

Physical aberrations, mental hallucinations, mysterious callings, changeable personalities, and uncontrolled bloodlines have tormented him since he was a child.

Although Wayne Sr. tried his best to use science and alchemy to make Jock live safely to the age of twenty, the bloodline still irreversibly crossed that forbidden line.

Ironically, when Jock accepts the complete loss of control of his bloodline, his pain is gone.

When the physical and mental mutation brought Jock only pleasure, he was reborn, transforming from a human into a monster, from Jock to a clown.

And the clown has lost interest in those human entertainments, and now it only wants to slaughter, in the middle of the night when it needs to scream.

The clown gathered his deformed fleshy wings and crouched on the roof of a cheap apartment, searching for prey with his dark yellow eyes.

Although it has lost its humanity, it has not lost its wisdom.

There is too much surveillance in the rich areas, where lives are more valuable.

Newcomers to the ghetto, who are so quiet in their lives that no one will notice them after they die.

For example, the two girls who are now passing under the apartment.

With curly black hair, dark skin, and plump breasts and buttocks, he looks like a Hispanic.

Judging by their cheap but slightly conservative clothes, they should not be prostitutes who have been smuggled over, but innocent girls with dreams of being actors or going to college.

The corners of the clown's scaly mouth tugged at a mocking grin.

It's the 21st century, and there are still people who believe in the American dream.

In another three months to six months, the two girls will not even be able to pay the rent of a cheap apartment, and will go down the same path as their predecessors.

He died of an overdose or was shot by a ticket rider who didn't want to pay for his ticket.

Luckily, they met a kind man.

The kind-hearted clown uncle does not allow innocence to be tarnished, so it decides to send them to heaven in advance.

The clown spread his wings and crawled down the façade of the apartment with his hands and feet.

When the two girls walked to the door of the apartment, it moved.

The black image fell like a ghost, and rolled towards the two pure lambs.

They couldn't even cry for help and were knocked unconscious by the blow to the back of their heads.

The Joker's claws shot at the back of the girls' heads, and it was so measured with force that it would never hurt them.

The night is still long, and it has to be enjoyed slowly.

When the jet-black claws fell, the touch was not as soft as before, but unusually hard.

The clown's golden pupils, which had been dilated in excitement, suddenly contracted, and the wind appeared out of thin air and was about to fly high into the sky with it.

But its fleshy wings had just flapped before it was firmly grasped by a hand.

The makeup on his hands fell off due to force, revealing the fair skin underneath.

Then, the clown was thrown out of the Wind King's pupils.

Before it could get up, a 48-yard Star Steel tactical boot stomped on its spine, immobilizing it.

Heavy footsteps slowly approached, not stopping until they reached the Joker.

It struggled to raise its head, and a giant was looking down at it condescendingly, his eyes full of disdain and hatred.

Jock wasn't just like this, he had already enjoyed the blood and wails of many innocents before his bloodline was completely out of control.

Or rather, it was his indulgence of his own nature that led to his complete depravity.

From man to beast, such a filthy thing is more profane than a pure alien.

So, Lu Mingfei changed his mind.

He had wanted to cut off the Joker's head neatly, but now he felt that it wasn't thorough enough.

The most profane existences often require the highest heat of cooking.

"Do you want to use Jun Yan?"

Chu Zihang saw Lu Mingfei's thoughts.

He shook his head, Jun Yan's temperature was enough, but it could only explode and not release it slowly, so it would die too happily.

If only there was a promethium flamethrower, Lu Mingfei was a little regretful.

The wrath of the gods, which can burn demons or spores, is always reassuring to the Imperial soldiers.

Go back to the equipment department and ask if there is a similar weapon, and when the time comes, let the source girl carry it, just to increase his attack strength.

"Xihe, check the nearest gas station."

Warband Intelligence quickly showed the location of the gas station on the phone.

"You wait for me a moment."

Lu Mingfei turned to leave, and after a while, he came back with two large barrels of gasoline.

"There's one less container."

He mused.

"I'll go find it, Captain."

Mao Mao, a young woman disguised as a Hispanic, recommended herself.

"Hmm."

Yuan Zhinu took the order, and he also watched some American dramas and had some understanding of the ecology of the American homeless.

Sure enough, when he walked down the street, he saw several homeless people living around a large iron bucket to keep warm.

"Good evening, gentlemen, can you sell me this barrel?"

Gen asked politely.

"Miss, I advise you not to make trouble for yourself."

An older-looking homeless man stopped the others and spoke viciously at her.

"Is that enough?"

Gen Zhinu took out three Franklins.

The green dollar bills give off an extraordinarily attractive sheen in the light of the fire.

"Miss, I have warned you. Leave the money behind and I can let you go. ”

The middle-aged homeless man sighed and pulled a knife out of his pocket.

"Gentlemen, I suggest that we settle this matter peacefully."

Gen Zhi said kindly.

"This is America. Miss. ”

The middle-aged homeless man shook his head.

Yuan Zhinu smiled slightly and pressed against the wall next to her.

Five clear holes appear on the graffiti, and only the seven letters of the Fak squid remain.

"Okay, Miss Kung Fu, this bucket is yours."

The middle-aged homeless man said wisely, and then took a few steps back with the others.

"Thank you, gentlemen, and have a nice evening."

Yuan Zhinu easily picked up the oil drum and turned to leave.

As he left, he rolled the dollar into strips and stuffed it into a hole in the wall.

"Captain, do you think this is appropriate?"

Back next to the apartment, the young woman asked in an inviting manner.

"Well, that's good."

Lu Mingfei complimented, and then began to work.

He tore off the clown's wings, then bent all of its limbs behind his back and stuffed it into a bucket.

The clown curses and threatens constantly, and is seen as a spine-broken dog barking wildly.

Two large barrels of gasoline were poured into the barrels, and then ignited in an instant by a spark.

The oil that Lu Mingfei bought was of good quality, and there was no black smoke at all when it burned, only pure and bright yellow flames rising into the sky.

An hour later, he lifted the twisted and reddened oil drum and poured the dregs into the drain.

(End of chapter)