Life Dungeon Game

Several hands reached out from the water, grabbed the girl's body, and dragged her underwater.

Several girls with slender figures, some youthful, some energetic, some charming, some cute, and all different looks emerged from the pool.

"No, no."

The blonde girl who had been pulled down first also emerged from the water, pleading, "Sisters, please spare me!"

"How could we let you off so easily?"

Several girls started playing around in the pool.

Romörk gazed at the vibrant, youthful scenery, picked up his wine glass, and took a sip of the red wine.

These are all his 'daughters,' his 'sweetheart babies.'

He shook his head with a smile and turned to walk towards the dressing room next door.

This set

The villa's walk-in closet was extremely luxurious, containing exquisite formal wear tailored from Dawn City, as well as fine fur coats transported from Rock City in the Northern Territory of the Federation.

Romack dislikes luxury brands that claim to be entirely handmade and have a long history; he prefers pure 'bespoke' services, and he keeps a beautiful high-end designer in his mansion in Dawn City.

That designer has recently become famous throughout the federal design circle. Every year, he flies to Dawn City several times to have the designer tailor-make several outfits for him.

Of course, some physical contact and in-depth communication are inevitable during the process of tailoring.

Romack enjoys this life. Long-term training and the latest energy potion from the Star Group keep him vigorous even in his sixties.

Recently, his personal doctor recommended that he try a 'life extension service' that the Star Group has only recently launched. The Star Group claims that this service can easily extend a person's lifespan to over 100 years and keep them energetic.

This means he can enjoy such days for several more decades.

Unfortunately, this life extension service is currently by invitation only, and only qualified VIP users can receive an invitation.

Given Romörk's VIP status, his personal physician said he might have to wait a few more years.

Romörk was well aware of the private doctor's sales tactics; the doctor had spread this message hoping he would increase his spending to upgrade his VIP status.

Romörk didn't say anything; he was always willing to spend money to protect his life and body.

He spent five million to purchase a new batch of services and medicines.

I also tried out the new energy potion on that disobedient private doctor.

Money is a good thing.

Romack chuckled, placed his wine glass on the bar counter by the entrance to the dressing room, and walked into his dressing room, which was filled with all sorts of expensive clothes.

"do not move."

The moment he stepped into the dressing room, a hard, cold object pressed against his lower back.

A hoarse voice came from behind him.

Romörk froze, his hand instinctively reaching into his clothes.

"Raise your hands. I am a law-abiding citizen. If you don't move, I won't hurt you."

The hoarse voice sounded again.

Of course, the seasoned veteran Romack didn't believe him. His mind raced, and he slowly raised his hands. "Young man, don't get excited. Let's talk things over slowly. If you need money, I have plenty of it and can transfer it to you."

"Did you oversee the demolition of Morakot Park forty years ago?"

The voice behind him asked slowly.

"Morak Park..." Upon hearing this, Romörk paused, then recalled briefly, "I did it, but it was a long time ago. I was new to the business then, only taking on simple demolition work..."

The 'visitor' behind him was He Ao, who came here to find Romörk, and it was certainly not just because of personal grudges.

According to Eve's investigation, Romörk is the only one of the contractors involved in the demolition of Morakot Park who still has an active record and can be easily located.

Morak Park, the former site of the current Qunxing Zhimei Hospital, was built by a mysterious businessman before the hospital was constructed. The park was demolished and abandoned for twenty years.

“Then let me ask you,” Heo asked slowly, “do you know the name of the businessman who bought the park back then?”

“I don’t know,” Romack said, turning slightly to bring his left hand closer to the coat rack on the left. “I was just a subcontractor at the time. The businessman was very mysterious. We never met, and the one who subcontracted the project to me wasn’t that businessman.”

"You've been in this industry for so many years, and you really don't know anything?"

He asked in a hoarse voice.

Romörk felt something pressing against his back and shifted slightly; it seemed the person behind him was about to fire.

He quickly raised his hand and shouted loudly,

“Jenos! Senator Genos! All construction projects in Limen City have to go through the Senator’s family! They win the bids at ‘high prices’ and then subcontract them to us at low prices. The Senator forty years ago was Genos’s father. They must know who that businessman was back then!”

Romörk felt the 'muzzle' behind him loosen.

He suddenly reached into the coat rack beside him, pulled out a black submachine gun from under his thick clothes, and whirled around.

"Damn it, die, you bastard!"

Chapter 460 The Assassinated Senator? (Long Chapter, Requesting Monthly Tickets)

In an instant, the intense gunfire echoed through the silent dressing room. Bullets rained down, tearing through expensive fur coats and piercing light down jackets.

Pure white feathers exploded in an instant, filling the entire space.

Romörk gazed at the scattered fluff.

The spot in front of him should have been where the 'uninvited guest' had just stood, but now it was empty, devoid of blood and people, with only a gold-inlaid cane lying quietly on the ground.

That was one of his favorite walking sticks.

The base of this cane was made entirely of gold, cool to the touch, like the muzzle of a gun poised to fire, carrying a chilling killing intent, which he greatly admired.

At that moment, anger at being fooled surged into his mind.

The other party didn't have a gun at all; they had deceived him—they were using his own cane!

That cunning liar!

"Get out here, you bastard!"

Romörk, holding the gun, pulled the trigger again.

The already steaming muzzle spat out fierce flames again, bullets piercing through the falling feathers and hitting the wardrobe with muffled thuds.

He turned his body around, wanting to scan every inch of the dressing room, completely disregarding the expensive clothes.

As he roared, he felt something cold pressing against his throat, then easily slicing through his skin, piercing the muscles of his neck, and cutting open his throat.

He still wanted to scream, but no sound came out; the gushing blood blocked his trachea.

The crimson liquid slid down the cold, silver blade, mingling with the snowflakes made of dancing feathers, dripping onto the ground drop by drop.

He drew his short sword, bent down slightly, picked up a tattered fur coat from the ground, and wiped the blood off the sword.

Then, carrying his sword, he walked step by step out of the dressing room.

Romörk's vision had blurred, and he couldn't make out Heo's face. He leaned forward, and in the last image in his memory, he only saw that somewhat thin and lonely figure from behind.

That figure was both familiar and unfamiliar, as if he had crossed paths with the owner of that figure before, yet it also seemed as if they had never crossed paths at all.

His consciousness gradually faded, and memories from the past few years began to replay in his mind. He wanted to know which competitor hated him so much that they hired such a powerful assassin to kill him.

He couldn't think of an answer.

He never imagined that someone as valuing life as him would end his life forever in his luxurious villa in this way.

Bright red blood slowly spread out.

He Ao gently reached out and brushed away the white feathers, tinged with a hint of bright red, that had fallen onto his shoulder.

He sheathed his sword and walked step by step toward the villa's exit.

Light, slow feathers drifted into the pool of blood.

Romörk disliked bodyguards 'watching' his life, so in this private area, it was just him and his 'daughters'.

His bodyguards and intelligent security systems formed an impregnable protective circle along the area.

At least, that's what Romack himself thinks.

Even though the villa was exceptionally soundproof for some reason, the loud gunshots still attracted the attention of the girls playing outside.

"Dad, Dad, you..."

Have you changed your clothes? The older girls are still waiting for you.

The blonde girl, with her wet hair hanging down and barefoot, walked towards the dressing room on the cold floor.

Then she saw the blood flowing to the doorway.

"what!"

She was startled and knocked the wine glass off the bar.

boom--

The pure crystal glass shattered, and the crimson wine mixed with the bright red blood, creating a bewitching, transparent color.

She looked tremblingly into the dressing room, her eyes meeting Romörk's wide, open gaze.

She was startled and took two steps back.

But seeing that Romörk didn't make a move, she forcibly controlled her emotions.

She glanced back at the thick glass window in the distance, where girls in the pool were sitting on beach chairs eating exquisite snacks.

Having one person come to 'check' is actually enough.

The blonde girl held her breath, her white feet stepping over pools of blood.

She walked up to Romörk's body, groped around and pulled off the large gold ring from his hand, then ripped off some of the smaller gold ornaments and gems he was wearing.

She stuffed the small items into her chest, glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then ran across the bloodstains, shouting loudly.

"Something terrible has happened! Dad's in trouble!"

-

The piercing sound of police sirens cut through the silent streets.