Baize’s gaze burned with an unhidden intent to kill as he fixed his eyes on the four men before him.

“You four,” he commanded coldly, “slap each other’s faces. And make it hurt. If anyone dares to hold back, I’ll kill them on the spot.”

The men exchanged grim looks, their expressions painted with despair. However, none of them dared to defy Baize’s orders. Slowly, they shifted their positions, kneeling in a rough circle.

Hesitation: The first man hesitated for a moment before delivering a resounding slap to the next man’s face. The impact was so fierce that Baize himself winced inwardly at the sound. The struck man cried out in pain, but, gritting his teeth, he turned to deliver a similarly forceful slap to the next person. And so it went on, a vicious cycle of brutality until all four men had bright red, swollen faces resembling bloated masks of pain.

When Baize deemed their punishment sufficient, he raised a hand. “Enough.” The men stopped immediately, trembling with relief but still clutching their aching cheeks.

“Now,” Baize continued, his voice as icy as before, “move those unconscious bodies and pile them together. Bind them tightly.”

Despite their battered faces, the four men hurried to follow his orders. They dragged the unconscious individuals into a heap and used whatever they could find to tie them up. Once finished, Baize’s next words made their stomachs drop.

“Take turns slapping them awake,” he instructed nonchalantly.

The four men obeyed, delivering stinging slaps to their unconscious companions. Groggy curses and screams filled the air as the prisoners awoke one by one, their confusion quickly turning into anger.

“What the hell are you doing?!” one of them shouted, his voice hoarse with fury. “Are you insane? Hitting your own people?”

“I’ll beat you senseless if you don’t shut up!” retorted one slapper, who was as reluctant as he was terrified of disobeying Baize.

“Damn it, you fool! Do you think our boss will let you off when he finds out about this?” another captive sneered.

“Your boss?” one enforcer snarled, delivering a particularly hard slap. “To hell with your boss!”

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The situation quickly devolved into chaos, with insults and blows flying. Some prisoners learned that silence brought fewer beatings, but those who complained faced harsher punishments.

After half an hour of this absurd theater, Baize finally ended it with a wave of his hand. By then, the dazing and breaking of the captives had left them too weakened to resist, their faces swollen and streaked with blood and tears.

Baize surveyed the scene with a chilling calmness. “Time to finish this,” he declared.

Without warning, he raised his weapon and fired a series of poison-tipped needles at the four who had been doing the slapping. The victims’ eyes widened in shock before they collapsed to the ground, paralyzed.

The bound prisoners, still groggy and in pain, began hurling curses at Baize. However, their anger turned to terror when he retrieved a gasoline canister and began dousing them in fuel.

“Wait, wait!” one of them pleaded, his voice cracking as he struggled against his bindings. “Please, have mercy! We’ll do anything!”

“Let us go! Please!” another wailed, tears streaming down his face.

But Baize ignored their cries, continuing his grim task methodically. These were hardened criminals who thrived on cruelty and chaos. Sparing them was out of the question.

Once he had thoroughly soaked the pile of captives, Baize struck a match. The small flame flickered in the growing dawn before he dropped it onto the gasoline-soaked bodies.

The fire roared to life with terrifying speed, engulfing the prisoners in a hellish blaze. Their screams pierced the early morning air as thick black smoke rose into the sky, curling like dark tendrils of despair.

Baize watched the inferno with unflinching eyes. When the flames finally died down, leaving only smoldering ash and charred remains, he scattered some dirt over the scorched ground to cover the evidence. Satisfied, he turned and made his way back to the safe house.

By the time he arrived, the sun had fully risen. Liu Yumeng was already awake and greeted him with a bright smile. She appeared blissfully unaware of the grim events that had unfolded outside.

“Master, you’ve been out so early!” she said, her tone curious and sweet.

Baize simply nodded. “Don’t bother preparing breakfast for me,” he instructed before retreating to his room to rest.

It wasn’t until noon that he woke. Opening his eyes, he saw Liu Yumeng sitting patiently nearby.

“Master, you’re awake! I’ve just heated some food for you,” she said, her voice brimming with devotion.

Baize nodded again, realizing he was indeed hungry. He let her serve him, eating quietly as he opened his intelligence system to plan his next move. Three photographs appeared on the screen, and Baize’s eyes widened in surprise.

The faces in two of the pictures were identical—twins he recognized immediately. People widely regarded Li Mulan and Li Mushuang, the top students of their school, as its most beautiful girls.

Li Mulan, the elder sister, had been the top science student in the province. Li Mushuang, her younger sibling, held the same title in the arts. Their stunning beauty and intellect had made them campus legends.

Baize’s heart raced as he read their details. They were both alive, trapped in the women’s dormitory of Qinghai University.

A fierce determination lit up his eyes. No matter the risks, he would save them.