Killing

Sloan took a deep breath. Before the disaster, he had naturally been rejected countless times when preaching, so he had developed good patience. He said calmly and peacefully, "I want to buy some supplies from you—everyone in our building is in urgent need, I hope you can agree."

Eugene chuckled, "Don't you think you should pray to your god to bless you with supplies?"

Damn it!

Even though he was a clergyman, Sloan really wanted to curse.

If the "Lord" could provide food, then why bother making efforts?

This was just a matter of faith!

Do you understand faith or not?

Bah, faithless cur.

Sloan looked down on Eugene inwardly, but said, "I know you like women. We have two female believers in our church willing to sacrifice themselves. They can fulfill your every demand every day. You give us two boxes of instant noodles or equivalent food, plus two boxes of water every day. How about that?"

Eugene burst out laughing.

After laughing for a while, Sloan couldn't help but ask, "Have you laughed enough?"

Only then did Eugene stop and said, "First of all, are you a church or a brothel? Second, since you're offering services, you should understand the market. Currently, a night with me costs only one pack of instant noodles, water is extra."

"Are your two female worshippers studded with diamonds or as beautiful as celestial maidens? Yet you're asking for a box of water and noodles each?"

In the neighborhood, Cathy was probably of the best quality, yet Eugene only gave her a good meal, plus 3 to 4 packs of instant noodles and water. You're simply asking for too much.

Sloan's face turned red with anger.

He really didn't understand the market, which was why Eugene was mocking him like this.

Suppressing his anger, he said, "There are too many people in our building, and we need at least two boxes of instant noodles and water every day. How about this, how many more women do you need? I'll try to mobilize more people to see if anyone is willing to sacrifice voluntarily."

You keep talking about sacrifices, making yourself seem so noble.

—Clearly, you're just selling yourself, doing the same thing as a pimp. How can you make it sound like you're saving souls?

Eugene leisurely said, "I don't lack women, so you don't have to bother. But since you keep talking about sacrifices, how about this, find three men to let you take it up the rear, send me the video, and I'll give you a box of instant noodles, as promised."

Hehe, it's easy to ask others to sacrifice. But what about when it's your turn?

Sloan was speechless for a moment, then said, "How dare you insult a messenger of God like this?"

Eugene chuckled, "Aren't you all believers in God? Why, are there different ranks? Is it okay for others to sacrifice, but not you?"

"I've said what I needed to say. If you want food, go ahead and find three people to take turns, and don't forget to record it."

"That's it."

He hung up the phone.

Some people, when they gain a bit of power, think they're superior and above everyone else.

Actually, hehe.

Was Sloan dissatisfied?

Then let him be dissatisfied. A bunch of rabble!

Do you really think that just because you joined a church, you'll have a clear path to the end?

Impossible!

There's a saying in Kretonia, called "embracing the Buddha's feet temporarily." It means if I have trouble, then I'll temporarily believe in you, but if you can't help or save me, then goodbye.

Let's see if your followers believe in God or believe in the supplies that can keep them alive!

Eugene spoke in the group, "Anyone who exposes Sloan's backside will be rewarded with 10 boxes of instant noodles or equivalent items."

Hehe, would 10 boxes of instant noodles or equivalent food and water be enough to encourage "heroes" to step forward and expose Sloan?

Absolutely.

Dare to threaten me?

I don't even need to act myself. Just offering a reward can make you a plaything.

Eugene smiled and didn't bother with such people anymore.

In the afternoon, he placed the promised food and water at the door and watched through the surveillance.

Around three o'clock, a man arrived. He was about thirty years old, sturdy, with a fierce appearance. There were tattoos on his neck, and a scar on his face, the kind that could scare children even in broad daylight. He chuckled upon seeing the food on the ground and effortlessly lifted it.

He was strong, easily carrying all the supplies alone. Eugene watched him leave the passage and enter the underground garage, but beyond that was out of the surveillance range, so he couldn't see anymore.

Eugene wondered if anyone would rob Rickey. It was just a passing curiosity for him, not something he particularly cared about, so he shook his head and didn't dwell on the matter.

Building 7, Door 902.

Knock knock knock, the door rang.

The homeowner, Glen, looked through the peephole and saw a woman standing at the door. She was around twenty, pretty, but also with a slightly tough look. She seemed frightened, hugging her arms as if she were freezing.

Well, she was only wearing a thin sweater, could she not be cold in such low temperatures? But it was precisely because of that, Glen could see her curvaceous figure, the fullness of her chest forming enticing curves, causing a stir in his throat.

"Is anyone there?" the woman's voice trembled. "Please, I'm thirsty, hungry, and cold. Can you take me in? I'll do anything you say!"

Glen couldn't resist. He unlocked the door with a click and said, "Beautiful—"

Poof!

The woman, who had just seemed vulnerable, suddenly had a fierce look in her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she produced a sharp dagger. In one swift motion, she slashed Glen's neck, and blood gushed out.

"Gah!" Glen couldn't speak anymore, his eyes filled with horror as he stared at the woman who killed without hesitation. He reached out as if to grab her, to ask her why she would do such a thing, but she slapped him away disdainfully.

Bang! Glen fell to the ground, blood pooling around him, soon covering the floor.

Hearing the commotion at the door, Glen's wife rushed out. "Honey, what's hap—"

Before she could finish her sentence, she saw her husband lying in a pool of blood and let out a piercing scream.

"Ah—"

But before the scream could fully escape her lips, the woman lunged at her, aiming for her throat.

Glen's wife struggled desperately, but couldn't break free. She could only flail her limbs in vain. Eventually, she went limp.

Dead.

The woman let go. Despite having just killed two people, her expression remained unchanged. Because she was a professional killer!

She chose to use a knife to kill Glen because he was male, and as a female assassin, she was at a disadvantage in strength.

To ensure she took out her target immediately, she chose the knife. For killing the woman, she used a throat lock to suffocate her, indicating she was confident in killing her target. Using a knife would have splattered blood, getting it on her.

Now, where was the water for a bath?

So, she opted for the more physically taxing method.

"This damn disaster!" the assassin cursed as she searched the house, looking for food and checking for any missed threats.

She put on winter clothes to conceal her enticing figure, then found some of the last remaining food in Glen's house and began to eat slowly.

Her name was Laura, and her profession was an assassin. She was fluent in five languages, skilled in disguise, and an expert in martial arts.

She came to Mystic Hills for a murder mission. She only accepted missions to kill men because her beauty made killing men too easy. But just as she settled in and was about to start her job, she encountered a disaster.

She was a professional killer, not a survival expert, so she was at a loss in such a situation.

Helplessly, she had to resort to her old ways.

—killing.