American Zombie Detective

Chapter 183 The Gentlemen's League Live Broadcast

Inside the modern control room of the hunting base.

The cold lights and indicator lights of various devices flickered and shone, illuminating focused and enthusiastic faces. The air was filled with a strong smell of coffee, tobacco, sweat, and hormones.

Suddenly, the technician responsible for liaison with the mental hospital team rang out in the office with a changed voice: "Video! The mental hospital sent a video! Backup equipment! They got the backup equipment!"

The sound, like a stone thrown into a lake, instantly shattered the rhythm in the office. All eyes immediately focused on it.

The person in charge rushed to the control panel and shouted, "Enlarge the main screen immediately!"

"Confirmed to be the new tablet code for the asylum team! Connect immediately!"

The technicians' fingers flew across the keyboard, and soon a violently shaky video was magnified and projected onto the huge main screen in the center of the office.

The footage was extremely shaky, with the camera shaking wildly as it panned across the dimly lit forest path and twisted branches before finally settling on the two people.

The chainsaw killer stood stiffly to the side, holding an automatic rifle, while Harley Quinn stood beside him with her arms outstretched, the muzzle pointing directly at him.

A small corpse hanging from a tree branch in front of me! It's that girl!

The little girl's skirt was riddled with bullet holes and covered in blood, with drops of blood dripping onto the ground from the bottom of her skirt.

Bang! Bang bang!!!

With three gunshots, the little girl was hit again. The bullet made her spin around, but she remained completely stiff.

Then, the camera suddenly swayed left and right, briefly capturing the surrounding scenery:

The dense, decaying, and crooked crosses stand on the ground like a silent forest, stretching endlessly to both sides. Behind the forest of crosses, a majestic, pitch-black, massive building stands quietly in the dim light, like a medieval castle.

A figure moved beside the castle; two people, or rather two figures, quickly disappeared into the corner of the monastery, blending into the darkness.

The video abruptly stopped, the screen went black instantly, leaving only the "Signal Lost" message flashing.

A huge commotion erupted in the office!

"These lunatics! How dare they go in?"

"They've escaped with at least 20 points, what about the rest—"

"What a pity! It's only a video; it would have been so great if it were streamed live!"

Before the cheers had even subsided, Mr. K's voice, altered by a voice changer, rang out through a hidden speaker in the office: "Process this video and play it on the public screen. Keep in touch with the mental hospital and ask them to broadcast it live as much as possible—and by the way, give them 5 extra points."

The command was executed swiftly.

This short, dimly lit but information-packed video of the battle's outcome was quickly edited and then played.

On the dark web, all the gamblers watching this bloody carnival instantly erupted in excitement.

"The mental hospital actually succeeded!"

"These lunatics are alright, they didn't bet on the wrong person!"

"What a pity, I was really looking forward to seeing how the lawyer would handle this chick—"

Betting on the mental hospital, which had been suspended, has seen a small surge.

However, the main perspective of the live broadcast at this moment was not on the mental hospital.

Then, the public channel began broadcasting two more videos of the killings:

Gentlemen in suits faced Harpy lying on the ground, covered in blood, groaning and struggling for mercy. They gave a cold salute to the camera, and then four guns opened fire at the same time, riddling Harpy with bullets.

The Black Mamba brothers dragged Luke, who had wet himself in fear, out of the bushes. Without hesitation, they cleanly and swiftly slit his throat with their knives, leaving him writhing on the ground, clutching his throat in panic, blood gushing from between his fingers.

In less than three minutes, Luke stopped moving completely.

The repeated replays of the killing scenes thoroughly aroused the gamblers in front of the screen. Now, apart from the Tarot Team, all the other teams have their own scores.

The Tarot team is really feeling incredibly frustrated!

They were no longer four, but five. The newly added "Wheel of Fortune" did not bring them any good luck. The five of them wandered aimlessly in the jungle like headless flies, with far fewer bets behind them than the other teams.

There's nothing we can do; their names are just not very appealing.

The audience seemed to prefer the arrogant and violent asylum, or the well-dressed gentlemen. They were treated the same as the Black Mamba, but that didn't stop the Black Mamba brothers from getting ahead first!

The image of severing the carotid artery and letting the prey bleed to death was both cruel and bloody, immediately causing their bets to surge.

Tarot, and the boss behind Tarot, are both a little anxious.

Inside the office, Mr. K issued a new order, and the technicians immediately sprang into action—

They extracted and enlarged the last frame of the video, sent it to the tactical tablets of the three teams, and attached a message:

[High-value targets have been identified as having fled into the shadow area. Analysis suggests the fugitives include a Chinese-American police officer (possibly) and at least one female traveler (10). The estimated total score within the area exceeds 40 points. High risk, high reward. Prioritize handling.]

The captain of the gentleman squad, a doctor, looked at the monastery with a ferocious expression on the tablet and the tempting number "40 points," a greedy smile curving his lips beneath his mask.

With a graceful wave of his hand, the squad immediately changed direction.

The Black Mamba brothers exchanged a glance, and like true venomous snakes, silently slithered into the dense forest, heading swiftly toward their new prey's location.

In the Tarot team, Luigi, the newest member, looked at the picture, then at his anxious teammates beside him, and muttered something in a low voice.

The entire team, as if injected with a powerful boost, charged headlong into the shadowy area they had once considered a no-go zone.

Money, grades, and the desire to kill, mixed with trepidation about the unknown, drove these three packs of bloodthirsty hounds to pounce on the ancient monastery that had been silent for hundreds of years from different directions.

Around midnight, the Gentlemen's Alliance, which had been deployed to the east side of the hunting grounds, cautiously entered that ominous shadowy area on the map.

The reporter took the lead, his tactical tablet camera on his chest glowing faintly, serving as a makeshift lighting device and live streaming tool.

He seemed completely immersed in his role in this bloody reality show. The surrounding environment was so oppressive that it was suffocating, yet he began his professional on-site report: "Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, we have now entered the most mysterious and dangerous area of ​​this hunt—this eternal shadow on the map."

He lowered his voice, trying to create a tense atmosphere: "According to reliable sources, werewolves and vampires have been spotted in this shadowy place many times. The prey has fled here, which is a great challenge for us. While we are hunting, we may also become prey for others. However, as gentlemen, we will fulfill our duty, reveal the secrets of this place to you, and complete our hunt."

In the footage, the moonlight here has lost its brightness, appearing somewhat moldy. The moon shining through the tree canopy also seems to have fuzzy edges. Twisted trees writhe in the darkness, their leaves covered with thick moss, and spiders dart among them, swiftly hunting nocturnal insects.

Even the air was filled with a faint smell of decay.

The lawyer at the back couldn't help but shudder and muttered to the PhD student beside him, "This place is eerily creepy—that bastard can still give such a passionate explanation, does he really think this is a variety show?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses, and despite feeling a little uneasy, he forced a calm laugh and said, "It's all just a gimmick. Don't forget what we have," he patted the assault rifle slung over his shoulder, "Even if there's something unclean, a few bursts of bullets will be enough to physically eliminate it."

The reporter at the front, seemingly emboldened by his own humor, grew increasingly excited: "Look at this road! These twisted trees, this moss that symbolizes death and decay! I bet this is the perfect abode for evil spirits—huh?"

His words abruptly stopped, and the camera abruptly turned to face forward.

In the middle of the path ahead, under the pale moonlight, a slender figure in a brightly colored clown costume stood with her back to them, head down, walking unsteadily, as if searching for something—