Thien Anh took a deep breath, suppressing the agonizing spasm in his chest, and rapped the butt of his gun against the glass.
Tap. Tap.
"Military! Any survivors? We're here for extraction!"
His voice was loud, resonant, and carried a false sense of absolute authority.
Instantly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from within. The haggard face of a middle-aged man pressed against the glass, his eyes shimmering with a frantic, desperate hope. But upon seeing Thien Anh's thin smile, the man bolted back inside to announce the news.
A minute later.
The barricade of desks and chairs was dismantled.
The door creaked open. Stepping out was a young man, meticulously groomed and wearing a designer suit that was only slightly wrinkled. Following him were two burly men brandishing daggers and batons.
Thien Anh leveled his submachine gun, his smile never wavering.
"Greetings. If you would be so kind as to open the door fully, the ambulance is waiting below."
The young man looked at the dark muzzle of the gun, showing no fear. Instead, he furrowed his brow in irritation. He jerked his chin upward, his voice dripping with condescension.
"What unit are you with? Why took you so long? I am Cao Hung, son and personal attaché to City Chairman Cao Tien Viet. I demand that you—"
BANG!
The words were cut short as a bullet punched through his forehead.
The 'Young Master's' eyes rolled back as he toppled backward, a dark crimson hole blooming on his brow, geysering blood. He died without ever understanding why the label of "Chairman's son" had become so utterly useless.
"Still trying to hide behind titles in this day and age?"
Thien Anh muttered. The two bodyguards behind were stunned for a single, fatal second. That second was more than enough.
BANG! BANG!
The next two rounds found their marks squarely in their chests.
Thud. Thud.
Three corpses fell, obstructing the entrance. From within the dark room, panicked shrieks and the metallic clack of weapons being chambered erupted. Someone had a gun.
"Mutt! Handle it!"
A black shadow blurred past Thien Anh's legs. Thien Lang charged in like a localized hurricane.
Pop! Pop!
Two weak handgun shots rang out, only to be instantly silenced by the dry crack of snapping bones and a terminal scream cut short.
Thien Anh stepped into the room, his soles treading into the fresh pool of blood spreading from the Young Master's corpse.
...
The scene inside made Thien Anh's stomach churn—not from fear, but from the sheer repulsion of human nature.
The once-spacious VIP suite now reeked of a rancid stench: sweat, rodent droppings, and the heavy, metallic smell of semen.
In the corner, seven or eight skeletal men huddled, trembling. Scattered across the floor were used condoms and torn undergarments. Over a dozen women lay naked and sallow, their bodies a map of bruises, staring at the ceiling with hollow, vacant eyes. Some had swollen lower bodies, with blood and milky discharge matting their thighs.
They were no longer human. They were broken dolls, discarded after play.
Thien Anh frowned. He had seen many atrocities—deviants who pickled victims' limbs in jars, cannibals who feasted on their own... But the depravity in this room still managed to sicken him.
He scanned the men kneeling on the floor, begging for their lives, and asked coldly:
"Doctor, nurse, caregiver. Anyone? Step forward."
Silence blanketed the room, punctuated only by the soft whimpers of a few girls.
After a long moment, a young woman slunk out from the shadows. She wore a white lab coat that had turned a dingy, yellowish grey. She was gaunt, yet compared to the other victims, she still possessed a flicker of vitality.
"I… I am a doctor," she said, her voice a thin tremble.
"Specialty?"
"Traditional Medicine. I am an Oriental Medicine doctor at this hospital."
Thien Anh raised an eyebrow in surprise. A modern Western hospital with a Traditional Medicine practitioner? Regardless, better than nothing. TCM experts knew how to set bones and regulate Qi; perhaps she could help.
"Good. Anyone else?"
He looked around once more. No one dared to speak.
Thien Anh jerked his chin toward the woman in white.
"You. Follow me."
The woman recoiled, terrified. She glanced at the men who were now glaring at her, then back at the muzzle of Thien Anh's gun.
"I… Can I…"
Click.
Thien Anh pointed the gun directly at the center of her forehead. His gaze was as sharp and cold as a blade.
"I don't have time. Move or die."
The color drained from the girl's face. She shook violently, tears welling up.
"Don't shoot! I… I just need to get my medical kit. It's on the first floor. Without my needles and medicine, I can't do anything."
Thien Anh narrowed his eyes, assessing her. Reasonable enough.
He lowered the gun, his voice softening slightly but still laced with an underlying threat.
"Fine. Lead the way. Don't try anything; my wolf likes the taste of liars."
Thien Lang stood by his side, baring his fangs with a low, guttural growl for emphasis. The doctor nearly fainted on the spot.
"Move!"
Thien Anh commanded, escorting the girl out of that 'Chamber of Horrors,' leaving behind the terrified and envious gazes of those who remained.