Chapter 22: The Outbreak

Wilson suppressed the restless steel wings, and then pushed aside the stick, glaring at the youngsters surrounding him.

He somewhat understood that these youngsters were not just somewhat 'individualistic' as he had previously thought.

They had already upgraded that 'individualism' a step further, evolving into a new existence, the scum of society, contemptible and constantly despised by others.

In the future, they would suffer vicious beatings from society, but now, they posed a significant threat to ordinary people.

"I know what you want to do, you better leave now, or you'll be the ones to suffer," Wilson advised earnestly, hoping to avoid conflict if possible.

"If you understand, then give us some spending money, Huahua. It's dark and deserted here, nobody's around for miles, and whatever we do to you, no one will find out, so you'd better be sensible."

The rainbow-haired youth, seeing signs of Wilson softening, continued to threaten.

"I told you, get lost!"

Wilson roared, his temper already explosive, and the recent events pushing him nearly to the brink. With his usual temper, he would have already started fighting with these people, but he couldn't lay a hand on them.

The rainbow-haired youngster was startled by the roar, Wilson, having held a high position, had shouted with quite an imposing aura.

But he quickly realized that Wilson had fallen so low as to spend the night in an underground passage, plus he was a hunchback, what was this black man trying to prove?

He picked up the stick and struck Wilson on the head; his underlings also gathered around, punching and kicking Wilson.

Having not lived normally for several days, Wilson was exhausted and still had to suppress those steel wings, so he ended up being trampled under the feet of these youths, brutally beaten.

In the dimly lit underground passage, a type of violence that few people experience but that indeed happens every day was occurring.

Enduring the brutal beating, Wilson curled up, whispering to himself.

"Don't move, stay quiet, don't move, they don't deserve to die, they shouldn't die..."

Behind him, the metal wings trembled slightly, wanting to unfold and slice the surrounding frail flesh creatures into pieces.

But Wilson, with his back against the wall, tried his best to hold them off, to prevent them from unleashing their might, he felt that all he had to do was to endure until they left.

Over the past few days, he had managed to reach a certain agreement with the steel wings, so he could still barely control those metal wings.

Yet he didn't seesome faint black qi flashing in the eyes of these youngsters; they wouldn't stop until Wilson was beaten to death.

After a few hits, the rainbow-haired youth grew somewhat tired and stepped out of the beating circle, lit a cigarette, and enjoyed the cruel scene.

"What are you enduring now, do you think those scum of society are worth the pain and humiliation you're suffering?" A frivolous voice rang in Wilson's ears.

"Who are you?" Wilson asked, struggling to get the words out amidst the punches and kicks.

"Who I am is not important, what's important is who you are.

You are harboring a strength that these mortals do not possess, you should be above the common folk, an existence completely different from these mundane creatures.

Why suffer in this filthy place, enduring humiliation you shouldn't have to, follow your true feelings, show your true form!"

Accompanied by the bewitching words, the same black qi also appeared in Wilson's eyes, and his expression visibly turned merciless.

Whoosh!

A pair of immense and shiny metal wings unfurled behind Wilson, in the dim light, they looked as dazzling as an angel's wings.

With a few rapid flaps of the wings, the youths closest to Wilson were instantly severed, their blood splattering on the ground...

Wilson stood up, and the metal wings behind him became clear. Each wing was made up of twenty steel feathers of various sizes, these feathers were sharper than steel knives and were connected by rivets and chains. There was no transmission device on them, yet the wings were incredibly flexible, even more so than real bird wings.

"Actually, your words don't make much sense. I'm not nobler than anyone else, I should endure..."

Wilson wiped the blood from his face, and the darkness in his eyes also faded away.

"But I really don't want to endure anymore!"

The several young men who had been beating Wilson were now dismembered, but the rainbow-haired boy had narrowly escaped catastrophe. His mouth agape, the cigarette fell from his lips to the ground.

"Monster! You're a damn monster!"

The expression of the rainbow-haired youth collapsed, and he screamed as he turned and ran, hoping to escape the nightmare.

He ran almost ten meters, and upon looking back to see that Wilson hadn't followed, he felt a surge of relief — at that distance, it would be difficult to be pursued.

But immediately, he discarded that thought as he saw Wilson's left wing bizarrely extend. The twenty steel feathers spread out to form a long chain of knives connected by chains. The knife chain flickered and impaled the rainbow-haired boy with a chill to the heart.

Clap clap clap.

A man wearing a red vest and with black and white face paint emerged from the shadows, clapping his hands.

"What a marvelous display. It's a combat ability, isn't it? I must say, I'm quite envious of such a skill."

"Was it you speaking in my mind just now?" Wilson asked the man with a deep voice.

"That's right, it was me," the man answered with a smile.

"What do you want?" Wilson asked cautiously.

"You may call me Mr. J. It's a waste for someone with your talents to languish in a place like this. Superpower users should be the overlords of this world, enjoying higher power. I hope you will join our organization," Mr. J said smilingly.

"You wouldn't happen to belong to some sort of cult, would you?" Wilson suddenly asked.

"Of course not, we don't engage in the worship of Evil Gods," Mr. J answered with a laugh. Due to the face paint, he looked as if he was smiling even when expressionless.

"Forget it, no matter what you're up to, I'll go with you. I can no longer turn back," Wilson said a bit sorrowfully, his wings behind him quivering slightly to shake off the blood.

...

Wen Wen stood before a pile of dismembered corpses, his slender eyes emitting a dangerous light.

This was the underground passage where Wilson had just gone on a killing spree!

The marks on these people's wounds matched exactly the cutting traces found in Wilson's study — it was clear who had committed the deed.

"Sigh... still too late. Including the basement clinic and this place, he must have killed at least ten people by now. If this continues, who knows how many more will die. We can't drag this on any longer."

After coming out of the basement clinic, Wen Wen followed Wilson's tracks all the way here. As long as Wilson left any trace, Wen Wen could use them to find Wilson's whereabouts.

If it weren't for Mrs. Wilson not seeking Wen Wen right away, he would have already found Wilson and stopped the two massacres.

"We need to be ready to take action. Our target may no longer be in a state to negotiate, but..."

Wen Wen closed his eyes and carefully discerned the scents in the air. Wilson must have just left recently.

Which scent is a vampire most sensitive to?

The scent of fresh blood!