Chapter 721:noveldrama

With a calm, deliberate motion, Verruckt rolled up his sleeves. The cufflinks on his shirt gleamed in the dim light, drawing attention to his long, powerful fingers as he prepared for what was coming next.

“If you had any sense, you’d have walked away by now. Instead, you’re making a grave mistake by trying to stand in my way,” he said, his voice cold and composed.

Surrounded and outnumbered, Verruckt gave no indication that he was fazed. His aura radiated an oppressive, intimidating presence, sending a clear message: this was a man who feared nothing.

The men in the suits narrowed their eyes with a menacing squint, their guns trained steadily on Verruckt.

“Sorry, but orders are orders. We can’t exactly turn down a fat paycheck, can we? And Mr. Shaw, someone’s put quite the bounty on your head.”

Verruckt raised his gaze, his crimson eyes locking onto them with an unnerving calm.

“Bring Daniel out, and maybe you’ll live to see another sunrise.”

“Enough with the theatrics! You think you’re fit to meet our boss? Don’t make me laugh.”

At that, the group surged forward in a chaotic wave.

Amid the turmoil, Allison’s sharp eyes stayed glued to Verruckt. He was truly unhinged, throwing himself headfirst into a fight against dozens as though death were merely an afterthought. Gordon’s voice crackled in her ear.

“Allison, what’s the situation on your end?”

She snapped a photo of the carnage and sent it his way.

“The mafia’s tangled with Verruckt, and it’s an all-out bloodbath. If there’s surveillance around here, you might just get yourself a front-row seat to the spectacle.”

“Hold on,” Gordon said, already opening his laptop with practiced ease.

It didn’t take him long to hack into the warehouse’s security feed. In night vision mode, he saw the mafia swarming like a black cloud of hornets.

In the center of the chaos, Verruckt moved like a specter, his silver-white hair flashing through the air like a ghostly blade. He wove through the mafia with terrifying precision, taking down one man every three seconds.

The brutality was surgical, the frenzy almost artistic.

Allison leaned closer, scrutinizing Verruckt with the intensity of a hawk. He was subject 005, after all.

His movements betrayed enhancements far beyond human capability—likely fueled by some experimental drug coursing through his veins.

When a man lunged at him with a crowbar, Verruckt…

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