Chapter 20: Evil Ritual

"...Save your energy for later!" One of the half-naked men honed his knife while letting out a strange laugh. The blade was a dark red, obviously having been stained with blood. "Don't blame me, guys. If I don't torment you like this, the next one strung up would be me."

"Boss, this is the Sinclair Grand Theatre, are we really going to do it like before?"

"So what if it's the Sinclair Grand Theatre? I bet this is the exact effect they're after," the man said indifferently. "Just think about it. When the main doors open tomorrow, people will discover a real massacre has been staged right here. Can you imagine any news more sensational than that? I bet it won't take a few hours for the whole city to buzz with it!"

"They're not doing this for fun. Someone is arranging for the killers..." Zhou Zhi muttered to himself, "Why?"

"Maybe for those people, the serial murders are a game in themselves," Joe James said with a cruel smile. "We'll see if we can get in touch with the mastermind."

"What, you want to join in?" Tyler said irritably.

"Just kidding, pal. I don't have those kinds of hobbies."

"One of them is probably not going to make it," Mingzi suddenly said in a low voice.

She was referring to one of the victims tied to a post.

"Indeed." Tyler sighed lightly, and with the help of the oil lamp's illumination, it wasn't hard to see the state of the three bound victims: The first person's abdomen had been slit open, his blood-soaked and tattered clothes beyond saving. With injuries like that, even if he were still breathing, he couldn't be saved; the conditions of the others weren't much better. They had clearly undergone torture and beating, with bloodstains and bruises all over their limbs. Meanwhile, the perpetrators seemed to relish the event, picking out their tools of torment and laughing as they conversed—as if they were at a slaughterhouse.

"By the way, I would like to ask Mr. Zhang, the champion of justice," Joe James said sarcastically, turning his gaze to Zhang Zhiyuan. "Do you still intend to spare these people now, to let the law judge them?"

The latter's face turned ashen.

"But they've really gone overboard this time. I have no idea what the mastermind is after," the American muttered, "Is the reporter we're looking for inside?"

Tyler squinted for a while before nodding in confirmation, "Found him, the third one is our guy."

Just then, Chaoyang emerged from the darkness, "Mission update: Rescue Kort Dane. If you can get him out of the theatre alive, everyone gets an extra 500 points."

As he spoke, Chaoyang sighed inwardly.

With matters having reached this point, the content of the contract could be considered fulfilled—after all, Judy had prayed for Dane's whereabouts, and "ending up in the hands of a series of serial killers at the Sinclair Grand Theatre" undoubtedly qualified as an outcome. As a demon garnering wishing power, he should not have invested any more costs into it, yet he found he couldn't just walk away.

Points were virtual, but the wishing power used to fabricate objects was very real. Making a body a second time had already increased the cost, and issuing a batch of empty cheques now was adding insult to injury. He knew it wasn't rational to do so, but his body was more honest than his mind; at best, this contract could only hope to break even.

"Host, I would like to exchange my points," Zhang Zhiyuan suddenly said.

"You haven't rescued Dane yet—"

"I'm talking about my starting points. I've only exchanged a translation tofu before, and I still have 800 points left."

That was close, almost gave himself away. Chaoyang corrected himself without a change in expression, "Of course, you can exchange for what you want at any time. But I must remind you that neither revival scrolls nor healing cards can be used on characters within the Paradise game."

Because he couldn't actually bring the dead back to life.

And the players were nothing more than a fusion of a wisp of consciousness and a body.

"I'll take two crossbows," said Zhang Zhiyuan.

"What, changed your mind?" Joe James teased.

"No, I'll give the crossbows to you guys," he looked toward Tyler and Mingzi. "There are lights around the stage, you can't sneak up there without a sound. Taking them down from a distance is the best option. There are nine of them; one crossbow isn't enough."

"I don't mind, I'm not aiming for a no-injury fight anyway," the American shrugged. "I'm going to have myself a real good time charging in."

Another round of insane laughter came from the stage, sounding eerily atmospheric in the night.

"They're starting on the second one, hurry up!" Zhang Zhiyuan urged.

"Let's go, same as before, Tyler and I take the lead."

The Brit looked at Zhang Zhiyuan with regret, "No help for it, you'll be the one to operate the crossbow." After saying that, he moved with Joe toward the front row, closer to the stage.

Anthony and Mingzi formed the second wave, silently moving toward the central seating area—that higher ground provided a full view of the entire stage.

Zhang Zhiyuan clutched the remaining crossbow, his knuckles white from the strain, Zhou Zhi had planned to follow behind Mingzi, but seeing the state of old Zhang, he turned back and stayed with him in the viewing area on the east side.

A new drama was about to unfold, and Chaoyang had already taken the stage, silently observing everything.

Qianyuan Meiko was the first to act.

Although she was young, she showed no discomfort or confusion, and even though it was her first time using a compound crossbow, she managed to steady her aim and get her target within the crosshairs.

The crossbow bolt shot forth, tracing a slightly descending arc through the dark hall, piercing a thug's chest with precision!

There wasn't much of a scream.

The bolt struck his lungs directly, the surging blood blocking the howl of pain he tried to release. There was only a series of coughing up blood, and the hit thug collapsed to the ground, so weak that it took his colleagues several seconds to notice something was wrong with him.

"Hey, what's wrong with you!?" someone shouted loudly.

Phut, another arrow flew.

This time, the shot came from Anthony.

Chaoyang clearly saw the person hit by the arrow screaming as he clutched his stomach, blood spraying everywhere—the strike had likely severed a major artery, as his death throes resembled a fish flopping in a puddle.

The thugs finally reacted.

"Shit, there's someone attacking us from the shadows!"

"What's going on, this is not according to plan!"

"Guys, grab your weapons first!"

Taking advantage of the chaos, Joe James and Tyler had already emerged from the darkness, charging towards the stage of the Sinclair Grand Theatre!

"Who are you! How dare you—" one of them began.

"I don't understand a word you're saying!" Joe jumped onto a high platform by stepping on seats, his axe cleaving into a murderer's face, the crunching sound of broken bones unusually clear in the hall.

Another thug lunged at him, stabbing a sharp knife towards Joe James. He landed a blow, but the knife's tip couldn't penetrate James's body.

Tyler took the opportunity to knock him down with one swing!

"Country bumpkin, never seen a stab vest, huh," the American boasted, "Last time was just for fun. This time, it's serious!"

Four of the nine men were down in an instant, instilling fear in anyone.

And in a life-and-death contest, fear only magnified their disadvantage.

"Lord Ghost, this isn't what we agreed upon!" the shirtless man yelled at the sky.

"I told you, I don't understand the crap you're spouting!" Joe James continued his onslaught, cutting down anyone close by with his equipment advantage. Although he got hit several times during the kills, it was hard for cold weapons to penetrate modern soft armor. Protecting his facial vitals, he generally avoided any serious harm.

To Chaoyang's surprise, Tyler's performance from the shadows was not at all like Joe James', who seemed to be fighting on sheer ferocity. Tyler was different—using a two-handed katana, he struck infrequently, but every strike targeted a vital point, timed perfectly as Joe drew the enemy's attention.

If it were just a game, it would be one thing, but Chaoyang knew that what they were experiencing was no different from real hacking and killing. Few could maintain such calm judgment in the midst of a carnage.

As an invited partner of the Americans, Chaoyang had also used the internet to investigate Jason Tyler. Information indicated that he was a highly educated person, a PhD in Biology, who had worked his way up from a pharmaceutical company executive to running his own business, now worth over ten billion, belonging to the same social strata as Joe James.

Unexpectedly, such a figure was not only excellent in making money but also had an astonishingly high adaptability to abnormal environments.

When the fifth man fell, the morale of the thugs completely collapsed.

They stopped trying to assassinate Joe and Tyler and turned to flee. After all, they had accomplices outside the theatre doors; there was no need to fight to the death with two invincible madmen here.

The latter didn't bother to pursue. Killing was an exhausting task, and though Joe James enjoyed it, his stamina was clearly flagging.

Besides, their objective had been achieved—reporter Kort Dane was still alive.