The young patrol officer spoke, and without waiting for his two colleagues to respond, he hurried out, looking anxious.
The two officers in the interrogation room exchanged glances, quickly checked Goethe's handcuffs to make sure they were secure, and then ran out.
Tap, tap, tap!
The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.
Then, a figure slipped into the interrogation room.
It was the young patrol officer who had just left.
At this moment, the young officer was staring at Goethe with a malicious look in his eyes.
Especially when he saw Goethe's surprised expression, the malice grew stronger, and a hint of smugness appeared.
Step by step, he approached. When he finally stood before Goethe, he looked down at him and said—
"Did you really think you could escape?"
"But don't worry, you're still useful. I won't kill you here!"
"So..."
"I'll just make sure you can't move!"
As he spoke, he raised his fist and took big strides forward, a grim smile spreading across his face.
But the next moment—
Bang!
The grin froze on his face.
He looked down at Goethe's raised foot.
More precisely, the foot that had kicked him in the groin.
A low blow!
"Ah... Ooh!"
A sharp, agonizing scream followed, oddly mixed with a high-pitched note.
Goethe withdrew his foot, and the man, clutching his groin, hunched over in pain, about to stumble backward. But Goethe's leg, just pulled back, immediately shot up, kneeing the man under the chin.
Bang!
The man's head snapped back as he held his groin.
Then, he collapsed limply in front of Goethe.
Without any hesitation, Goethe stomped on him repeatedly.
The sturdy heel of his shoe fell like raindrops on the man's face, head, and neck.
Bang, bang, bang!
Crunch!
After a series of relentless stomps, a crisp crack echoed through the room.
The man's neck was broken.
Only when Goethe confirmed that the man was barely breathing and completely powerless did he stop.
He sat in the chair, looking down at the corpse, a glint of clarity in his eyes.
Just now, to more effectively and safely deal with the man, he had directly chosen to use **[Bloody Honor]** to enhance his **[Unarmed Combat]!**
And the result?
Even better than expected!
**[Unarmed Combat (Beginner) → Unarmed Combat (Skilled)]**
**[Unarmed Combat (Skilled): With a solid foundation and extensive combat experience, your physique and skills have further improved, putting you among the top in the amateur boxing circle; Effect: Physique +0.3 (Basic, Beginner, Skilled 0.1), Skill +0.2 (Beginner, Skilled 0.1)]**
...
Goethe carefully sensed the changes in his body, feeling the difference from before.
"It's not just an enhancement in one aspect; it's a full-body improvement—strength, speed, reflexes, even vision, smell, and hearing have all sharpened instantly. And the technique... It's as if I've practiced it hundreds or thousands of times."
"So, this is 'Physique' and 'Skill'?"
"Then..."
"What is 'Mind'?"
Goethe wondered, his gaze drifting to the still-zeroed "Mind."
But soon, his thoughts were pulled back.
Goethe looked down at the corpse on the floor.
The earlier scene had indeed surprised him a bit.
According to his guess, in this official institution capable of dealing with the "hidden world," it should be quite safe!
But here, a mole from the pursuers had appeared.
"The force hunting 'me' is even more powerful than I thought, infiltrating even official organizations."
"However, fortunately, they only had one mole. If there were more, they wouldn't have sent one person, nor would they have used such a clumsy trick to lure the guards away."
Goethe was sure that the so-called "mass shooting on Pine Avenue" was just a few people firing shots into the air to distract the police, giving the mole a chance to act.
"The mole they planted with great effort!"
"Unlike the 'friend of Goethe' role, this guy isn't a disposable pawn; he's more like a contingency 'insurance'!"
"They arranged both 'pawns' and follow-up 'insurance,' so what kind of people did the Wayne family provoke?"
Goethe's eyes narrowed as he looked at the corpse.
Back in his hometown, Goethe had seen similar tactics more than once: throwing out prepared "pawns" during the cleanup phase to completely settle a matter, and just in case, arranging "insurance."
But those who used these tactics were always extremely troublesome characters.
Or rather, they could be called big shots.
Yet the Wayne family was just an ordinary "local wealthy family," no matter how you looked at it, they couldn't possibly have provoked such people.
Goethe's mind filled with even more questions.
As he pondered, he waited.
He believed those officers who had left wouldn't be gone long.
And indeed, they weren't.
After about ten minutes, the sound of dense footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Tap, tap, tap.
The distinctive sound of leather soles on concrete grew closer, and Goethe turned his gaze toward the door.
Then,
The middle-aged officer from before and the two guards burst in.
Seeing Goethe still securely handcuffed to the chair, the three men breathed a sigh of relief.
But as soon as they noticed the corpse on the floor, that relief stuck in their throats.
"Soko!"
One of the officers exclaimed, while the other rushed over to check on their fallen colleague.
After checking his breathing and pulse, the officer turned with a grim expression to the middle-aged officer and said,
"He's dead!"
The middle-aged officer immediately aimed his gun at Goethe again, his eyes filled with menace.
The other two officers picked up their batons and flanked Goethe on either side.
Faced with their encirclement, Goethe instead looked toward the door.
There was someone else following the three officers.
However, at this moment, the newcomer didn't enter but stood at the doorway, observing the scene.
He was a tall, bearded middle-aged man with curly, unruly brown hair and bleary eyes. There was a faint smell of alcohol on him, and even though he was just standing in the doorway, Goethe could clearly smell it from inside the interrogation room.
Noticing Goethe's scrutiny, the man first confirmed once more that Goethe was securely restrained, then slowly stepped inside, moving with a deliberate swagger.
He ignored the corpse on the floor, gestured for the middle-aged officer to lower his gun, and then introduced himself.
"I'm Rust Police Chief Swart."
"I'm the one in charge of this case!"
"Not the one you turned yourself in for!"
The chief drawled, dragging out his words until everyone's attention was on him. Only then did he seem satisfied enough to continue—
"I just received an anonymous report that..."
"You killed your younger brother."
(End of Chapter)