Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

The male liposuction monster didn't even have time to scream.

His obese, bloated body seemed to be gripped tightly by an invisible giant hand, suddenly collapsing inward.

The sounds of bones cracking, fat squeezing, and internal organs rupturing mingled together, creating a cacophony like fireworks.

Having just absorbed the fat of a living person, he burst like an over-squeezed abscess, turning into a bloody mess of broken tissue, viscous fat, and dark red blood.

Like the final burst of fireworks.

It dripped onto the scorched ground, emitting a nauseatingly sweet and foul odor.

Only a wisp of pure life energy, containing the properties of absorption, remained on the spot, which Wu Heng casually collected as if picking up a pebble.

He didn't even glance at the filth, but instead looked towards the 'Slim Dreamland' in the distance, stared at it for a moment, and then looked away.

The figure faded again, blending into the night, as if it had never existed.

The female liposuction expert was giving a massage to a customer when she suddenly shivered for no reason. She applied a little more pressure with her fingers, and the customer cried out in pain. She quickly apologized.

Completely unaware that he had narrowly escaped a deadly ordeal.

Wu Heng has acquired too many extraordinary biological characteristics these days. The liposuction monster is weak to begin with, so there's no need to dwell on it now that he already has one.

The ghost ship started up silently and continued its journey towards Black Creek Town, towards the place where the War Knights had descended, soaring through the sky.

The highway remained silent, with only the rapidly cooling mass of flesh behind the abandoned gas station serving as evidence of what had just happened.

Fifty minutes later.

Black Creek Town, a small town shrouded in an invisible atmosphere.

The core of the townspeople's madness was not hidden in some bloody altar, but rather in a seemingly ordinary residential building in the center.

In this household, a hunting rifle, several well-maintained skinning knives, and some protective charms against demons hung on the living room wall.

Above the fireplace is an old family photo.

In the photo, a burly man with a full beard and a bear-like build is embracing his wife, who has a gentle smile, with their chubby-faced son in the middle.

The photo is filled with an atmosphere of happiness.

However, reality is cold.

The house now only bears the traces of one person's life: piles of fast food packaging, carelessly discarded beer cans, and a lingering smell of sweat and mildew.

The burly man in that photo had by then become an old man with gray hair, cloudy and dull eyes, and a hunched back.

He stood frozen beside the computer desk like a decaying statue, only his deep-set eyes occasionally churning with a wild, frenzied fighting spirit that was incongruous with his age.

Sitting on his large, custom-made computer sofa, browsing the Witcher Guild website, was a middle-aged man who looked extremely ordinary, even slightly overweight, and wearing a loose T-shirt.

He looked languid, as if he were simply killing time in his study.

The light from the screen illuminated his unremarkable face.

When he saw the encrypted email sent by the 'Internet Addiction' AI manager to this registered IP address, containing location information and risk inquiries, a hint of disdain, yet also a serious light, flashed in his originally lazy eyes.

"Heh," he chuckled almost inaudibly, a condescending amusement in his voice. "Quite a keen sense of smell. Looks like this place has been marked. Soon there will be more flies. It might even attract that rather different kind of guy." The 'someone' he was referring to was, of course, the enigmatic and ruthless leader of the Witcher Guild, Lor Morrick, whom all the Witchers considered mysterious and ruthless.

The middle-aged man, or rather the vessel chosen by the War Knight to awaken at this stage, leaned back in his comfortable chair, his fingertips stroking his chin.

"Looks like we can't stay at this temporary base any longer," he muttered to himself, his tone devoid of any tension, only a hint of annoyance at being disturbed. "I need to speed things up and recover my strength as soon as possible."

"What a terrible body!"

For him, peace and order are poison, while conflict and chaos are food.

He can only draw enough power from people who distrust, hate, and kill each other, whose families are torn apart, whose communities are overrun, and whose nations are at war with each other.

To return to the original form of war, which symbolizes ultimate conflict and destruction.

Black Creek was merely his first appetizer after his awakening, and as if in response to the whispers of the War Knight, the atmosphere in the town suddenly became even more violent.

The residents, who had previously been limited to arguments and sporadic brawls, suddenly lost all rationality in their eyes, which was replaced by a pure, hysterical madness!

"Kill them! Kill them! They were sent by the devil!"

"Rob the whole supermarket, it's mine!"

"Anyone who blocks the way must die!"

Roars, screams, and sounds of smashing erupted instantly from every corner.

Neighbors grabbed whatever was at hand—kitchen knives, sticks, even dismantled railings—and hacked at each other like sworn enemies!

Chaos erupted in the streets, as crowds surged out of hiding corners like a burst dam, aimlessly rushing out of town to spread their madness to even more distant places.

"Stop them! We can't let them get out of town!" Dean roared, and he and Sam immediately formed a fragile human wall, blocking the main road leading out of town.

But this was not enough to stop the townspeople.

Sam and Dean are now capable of easily killing ordinary demons, but they are helpless against these people.

These townspeople were merely mentally corrupted by the power of war; they were not possessed by demons.

Their bodies are still mortal, and their souls, in essence, are still those of the neighbor, the friend, and the relative. They are like people suffering from an extreme and violent mental illness, which theoretically has the possibility of being cured!

Are they going to start a massacre just because they're facing a group of 'patients' who are still human?
This perception became a moral shackle imposed on Dean and his six companions.

"Don't come any closer, back off!" Sam tried to use his demonic power to create a deterrent shockwave to push away the oncoming crowd, but he dared not use too much power, for fear of damaging their internal organs.

A normally kind-looking old woman now had a ferocious look in her eyes, brandishing her cane and recklessly smashing it at Dean, shouting, "Monster, give me back my grandson!"

However, her grandson is actually in college and doesn't live in town at all.

Dean had no choice but to dodge awkwardly, while also being careful not to let her fall and break a bone.

Three teenagers, their eyes filled with a destructive urge stirred up, picked up stones and threw them wildly at the six people.

He even tried to bite Joe's arm with his teeth.

Joe and Allen could only struggle to restrain them to prevent them from hurting themselves, their arms bearing bloody scratches. (End of Chapter)