Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

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The second gunshot shook the alleyway, causing dust to fall from the roof. The previously still remains of the Catan aliens suddenly twitched, and a piece of bone bounced up half an inch.

The people around them who had just breathed a sigh of relief suddenly felt a chill run down their spines, and some couldn't help but shrink back.

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Cui Ming expressionlessly pulled the trigger repeatedly. The recoil of the shotgun made his shoulder sway slightly, but the muzzle remained steadily aimed at the wreckage on the ground. After each shot, the green fragments would shudder violently like crushed toads, and blood would splatter on the wall, spreading into deeper stains.

"Look, still playing dead." Cui Ming's voice was as calm as if he were talking about the weather, but his fingers didn't stop.

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The fifth bullet struck the remaining skull of the Catan alien, instantly shattering the half-skull into powder.

The crowd in the alley fell silent. Several of the bravest young men quietly hid their weapons behind their backs. An older woman covered her child's eyes, her lips trembling—this wasn't just dead, was it? Shattered like this, there was no way to bring him back to life, not even to put him back together.

Cui Ming seemed oblivious to the unspoken thoughts of his men, switching magazines and continuing to pull the trigger. "Remember this," he explained as he fired, the shotgun shells thudding against the rubble. "Their bodies have a unique structure; they can revive even when broken into pieces."

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"It must be completely crushed."

His tone was completely flat, and he didn't even blink once, as if he were holding a watering can rather than a weapon. The clatter of spent cartridges hitting the ground mingled with the trembling of the Katan alien remains, becoming the only background noise in the alley.

Those around him stared at his expressionless profile, then at the unrecognizable green carcass on the ground, and a chill ran down their spines. They had thought Cui Ming was protecting everyone, but now they realized—this ruthless cruelty towards the enemy was more terrifying than any alien. One office worker quietly tossed a chair leg into the trash can, his mind filled with only one thought: from now on, he'd avoid Storm One like the plague.

As Kotaro carried the rescued little girl over, gunshots were still ringing out intermittently in the alley. He glanced at the unrecognizable green carcass at Choi Ming's feet, without even frowning—he'd seen this kind of scene countless times. From his combat training in Catachan to his missions with Choi Ming, dismembered bodies and blood-soaked walls were commonplace; he was used to it.

But as the little girl instinctively turned her head toward the sound of gunfire, Kotaro immediately reached out and gently covered her eyes. "Don't look," he said softly, a stark contrast to the commands he had shouted during training in Katachon.

The little girl's eyelashes trembled slightly in his palm. The red marks on her neck, where the Katan alien had choked her, still rose and fell gently with her rapid breathing. Although she couldn't see, the crisp sound of shotgun shells shattering bones, the sticky sound of blood splattering on the wall, and the stench permeating the air all pierced her senses like needles.

The handsome older brother who had been smiling at her just moments before was now firing wildly at a mass of mangled flesh—just imagining that scene made the little girl tremble uncontrollably. She buried her face in Kotaro's shoulder, her ear pressed tightly against his clothes, but the gunshots still pounded against her eardrums like drumbeats, each one making her heart clench.

Kotaro could feel the little one trembling in his arms. He patted the girl's back and looked past the crowd at Cui Ming. The latter's reloading motion was fluid and effortless, his face still expressionless, as if the shotgun in his hand wasn't killing people, but cleaning up trash.

"Is it all done?" Kotaro asked loudly, his voice not loud but loud enough to drown out the gunshots.

Cui Ming pulled the trigger one last time. With a muffled "thud," he lowered the gun and turned around, green liquid dripping from the barrel. "That's about enough. This thing's resilient. A few more shots for safety." Kotaro nodded, saying nothing more, and simply carried the little girl towards the alley entrance. The little one in his arms was still trembling; he could feel the fear seeping through the fabric—and indeed, anyone who saw someone who had just been speaking gently suddenly transform into a "butcher" wielding a shotgun and shredding enemies would be terrified.

As he reached the alleyway's entrance, Kotaro glanced back and saw Choi Myeong bending over, crushing the bits of flesh into a finer powder with his foot. He quickly turned back, quickening his pace to leave this bloody place, thinking: I'd better get the child away from here as soon as possible, lest he be traumatized.

Meanwhile, Cui Ming, after confirming that the Katan aliens had completely stopped moving, began cleaning up the scene. He took out a black sealed bag from his backpack, squatted down, and expressionlessly picked up the pieces of green flesh one by one and put them inside. His movements were methodical, as if he were cleaning up a pile of ordinary garbage, but the sticky texture and pungent stench made several passersby who hadn't gone far quicken their pace.

Of course, he didn't forget to check on the situation while packing. He raised his hand and pressed the communicator; there were two buzzing sounds, followed by a clear voice: "Hey, Sergeant, how's it going over there?"

A sergeant's panting roar immediately came from the other end of the communicator, accompanied by the buzzing of energy weapons and explosions in the background: "Don't worry! We're handling it! Damn it! These guys actually dared to come! They're like uncultured cows!"

It seems the sergeant's side is also dealing with the aliens, and the battle is quite intense. Cui Ming tightened the sealed bag full of minced meat while continuing to listen to the sounds coming from the communicator.

"Storm Squad Two has broken through the left flank, and Squad Four is holding off the air units!" The sergeant's voice suddenly rose, carrying the decisiveness of a commander, "Death Squad! Charge! Charge! Tear that leader apart!"

EDF's Storm Squad 2, as well as Squad 4 and Reaper, are extremely strong, Cui Ming had no doubt about that. Just by listening to the shouts and roars of weapons coming from the sergeant's side, he could imagine the fierce battle there—probably much more brutal than the street fighting on his own side.

He threw the last bag of "trash" into a specially made storage box, stood up, dusted off his hands, and said calmly into the communicator, "Clean it up thoroughly, leave no survivors."

"Understood! Storm One, are you done on your end?" The sergeant's voice carried a hint of urgency.

"Okay, this is all done." Cui Ming shouldered the storage box, turned around and walked out of the alley. "Just let me know if you need any help."

"Not yet! These bastards aren't even enough to fill our teeth!" The sergeant's roar was laced with ruthlessness. "We'll regroup after we've dealt with these punks!"

The communicator was disconnected, leaving only the crackling of static. Cui Ming tucked the communicator back into his belt, glanced towards the alleyway entrance, but Kotaro and the little girl had already disappeared around the corner. He shouldered the box, his steps light as he blended into the night, heading towards the direction where the sergeant and his men were fighting—although they said they didn't need support, having more manpower was never a bad thing, and besides, he wanted to see just how capable these aliens, who dared to provoke multiple forces simultaneously, really were.

That's really something!

The target was actually the Storm Squad! (End of Chapter)