Life Dungeon Game

The mining consortium's records contain this gentleman's glorious history.

He liked little girls and had killed several innocent girls. The mining consortium then cleaned up the mess for him—driving the entire families of the victims to their deaths… though not all of them were killed; the pretty ones were sold to Milani.

The mining consortium's records gave He Ao a rare sense of awe.

The sweatshop in Dawn City that catches homeless people in the wilderness is like a gentle and humble lamb in front of the mining conglomerate.

When they reap the benefits of dirty tricks and escape punishment, they become accustomed to such methods and take them for granted as the world's due reward.

Looking at Heo's calm face, Tore seemed to think that Heo was frightened by him.

“I thought you were something special, but you’re just a cowardly little chick,” he laughed, taking a step forward. “Watch me take your life for all those who died unjustly.”

His body trembled, and a violent aura erupted from him.

A familiar feeling washed over him. He looked at the current chief of staff, a C-rank, who seemed to be a 'Berserker'.

“Wait a minute,” Heo said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, looking calmly at Tolie. “Which foot did you just step on?”

Tole paused, glanced at his right foot that had stepped out, and laughed, "Are you scared? Even if you kneel down and beg for mercy now, this general will not let you go."

A berserker, but cowardly at heart.

It's not even as good as when Heo met that person in the main world.

“I just,” Heo glanced at General Torre and gripped the hilt of his sword.

A figure swift as the wind struck, clashing with the crimson sword light.

He Ao's body remained in place, without moving.

Tore stood behind Heo, his eyes wide open, bright red blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. He opened his mouth but could not speak, and collapsed helplessly.

His body was contorted in pain, like a chick pecking at its food.

He Ao sheathed his sword and finished speaking the words he hadn't finished earlier.

"I don't like attacking someone who steps on their right foot first."

He turned and walked past Tore's body.

Heo did not kill Tori; he merely destroyed his internal organs and shattered his bones.

A C-rank isn't so easy to die from. He'll lie here, slowly tormented by pain, feeling himself die.

He Ao looked up at the terrified city guards and the remaining executives, and said softly, "I only kill the guilty."

"what!"

A young city guard glanced at him in horror and dropped what he was holding.

He grabbed the gun and staggered out of the fire escape.

He Ao did not stop him.

The remaining city defense troops collapsed instantly, dropping their guns and running downstairs.

With the city defense troops gone, the remaining executives knew there was no way to retreat.

Those who could remain here were all ruthless individuals. A burly man pulled out a Gauss rifle from the side and aimed it at He Ao.

The next second, a bright red flower splattered in front of him.

Gunshots, shouts, and the sounds of tables and chairs being moved rang out in quick succession.

Bright red flowers bloom one by one in this small space.

It was like stepping into a rose garden in the dead of night.

Amid the sounds of bodies falling, He Ao walked up to a young man who looked to be only in his early twenties.

The man was the last survivor. He did not launch any attack. He wept bitterly and knelt on the ground, saying, "I was wrong, I was wrong. I am willing to atone for my sins for them for the rest of my life. Please forgive me, please let me go, please let me go."

He Ao glanced at him, then turned and walked towards the fire escape, exposing his back completely to the young man.

The young man looked at He Ao's back, slowly pulled out a Gauss pistol from his pocket, and his face turned fierce.

The next second, a red dagger was pressed against his chest, slowly advancing until it pierced his heart.

He Ao calmly observed the young man's surprised face.

This young man was the one who handled the affairs of the 'victims' families on behalf of Tore.

"I don't think I'm qualified to forgive them on their behalf, so you'd better go and ask them yourself."

He drew his short sword, walked to the tissue box on the desk next to him, took out a tissue, wiped the dirty blood off the sword, and then sheathed it.

Head towards the fire escape.

Blood stained the magnificent floor.

There's no one on the 71th floor.

The 72nd floor, the top floor, has only one room.

Boardroom.

He pushed open the conference room door.

Hmm, over five thousand words... still not finished. I'll add an extra chapter tomorrow to finish it!

Chapter 387 The Behind the Scenes (Two chapters combined into one, please subscribe and add to your favorites!)

A densely packed convoy of mercenaries was parked on the narrow street, while the surrounding crowd had long since scattered and fled, leaving an eerie silence on the sidewalk.

At the very front of the convoy, in a simple jeep, a man with short, curly brown hair stood up from the passenger seat, his hand resting on the ornate sword at his waist, and looked ahead.

A middle-aged officer in the uniform of the city garrison, with short brown hair and an elegant and handsome appearance, stood alone in the very center of the street, blocking the way of the entire massive convoy.

The officer was Wright, and the short-haired man standing in the jeep was Albert, the leader of the mining consortium's mercenary group.

Wright glanced at Albert in front of him, straightened his pristine white officer's gloves, and smiled, gesturing an invitation.

"Commander Albert, now is the perfect time. Why don't you sit down and have a cup of coffee?"

"No need."

Albert's face was ashen. He glanced at the distant mining building and raised his left hand to make a gesture.

The massive convoy began to slowly change lanes, taking a detour via another route.

Albert got out of the jeep and looked at Wright.

"Commander Albert, as you know, the mining consortium has never trusted you,"

Wright adjusted his gloves and gripped the pistol tucked into his waistband.

"You are nominally the leader of the mercenary group, but in reality you have no control over the mercenary group at all. All the affairs of the mercenary group are controlled by those good-for-nothings who are the direct henchmen of the board of directors."

"They treat you like dirt in good times, but treat you like a beast of burden in times of crisis. Even now, in the most critical moment, they don't dare let you guard the mining conglomerate's building. Why should you risk your life for such an employer?"

"Do your job well and fulfill your duties."

Albert's face remained calm, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword at his waist. "How they guard against me is none of my concern."

"That,"

Wright stared at the man before him. "Looks like we'll have to fight after all?"

His figure disappeared instantly.

-

As the ornate and dignified wooden door was slowly pushed open, a spacious conference room appeared before He Ao.

The conference room is rectangular in shape, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window on the wall facing the door, allowing sunlight to stream through the glass and fill the entire room perfectly.

Through these expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, the 'scenery' of most of Rock City is under the surveillance of this conference room.

He stepped forward and crossed the door.

To the right of the entrance is a wall that is not narrow, and on this wall hangs an oil painting that looks quite valuable.

On the left was a huge oval conference table, around which sat a group of pale-faced people.

Most of them were quite old, with fine wrinkles covering their cheeks.

The oldest looked to be in their seventies or eighties, while the youngest was in their thirties or forties.

Although they are old, most of them have a strange excitement in their faces, which makes their old bodies stand tall and appear energetic.

This is the support of power.

Power is the best stimulant in the world.

He Ao walked step by step toward these 'old people'.

They were gathered around the conference table, seemingly engaged in a heated debate.

Some people are angry

Some people waved, their faces flushed red; some were indignant; and some were indifferent.

However, the scene stopped at that moment.

All their movements froze at this moment of argument.

It's like a perfect wax figure made by a master wax sculptor, with everything done so realistically.

He walked to the side of a man who had stood up. His chest rose and fell slightly, and his cheeks were flushed with anger. His body was still alive, but he could no longer move.

Their gazes had long since lost focus, as if frozen in that moment, as if a pause button had been pressed.

He Ao ran his finger across the surface of the solid wood conference table.

The desktop was smooth and free of dust. These people were permanently turned into 'wax figures', which must have happened not long ago.

The mining conglomerate's board of directors, who were once high and mighty, arbitrarily deciding people's lives and deaths, have been turned into lifelike wax figures here.

He Ao stepped over the conference table and continued inside.

At the far end of this spacious conference room stands a huge bookshelf wall, densely packed with all kinds of books.

He Ao walked to the bookshelf, and heard a series of chaotic murmurs in his ears.