She is a natural disaster.

Chapter 13 The Murder Debate

With a flash of sword light, Wyatt Hall's head flew high into the air.

With the three men who attacked the carriage falling one after another, the first attack on Mike Montagu was declared a failure.

Mike, having regained his sight, stayed obediently in the carriage. He realized the attack was over, but he didn't put down his short sword and dared not relax for a moment.

Just then, the sound of footsteps reached Mike's ears, and he instinctively aimed his short sword at the wide-open carriage door.

The footsteps grew closer, and Mike, still shaken, breathed a sigh of relief. He recognized Rupert's footsteps, though they lacked some of the usual strength.

Sure enough, Rupert's menacing face soon appeared at the carriage door.

"Young Master, are you alright? Do you feel any discomfort?" he asked. "The attack is over, and we can go back soon."

Mike looked at Rupert, who was covered in blood, and opened his mouth with difficulty, but couldn't utter a single syllable. He took a few quick breaths before his parched throat began to function normally again.

"I'm not hurt, but you—are you alright? You look like you're about to—"

Still shaken, Mike couldn't organize his thoughts for a moment; he sensed that Rupert must have been seriously injured.

Rupert looked terrifying, covered in blood. He had a large gash in his brow bone, sunken cheekbones, and drops of blood dripping down his beard. He had several broken ribs, and his arms and hands were covered in wounds.

In addition, Rupert's coat was also frightening, with bloodstains mixed with unidentified white substances, some of which looked white and tender, and some of which looked like bone fragments.

"I'm fine, I just look a bit scary," Rupert said. "I recover very well, these injuries will heal in a few days."

Their abused bodies have gained abnormal amplification due to mutations, making them not only strong and healthy, but also incredibly resilient.

Despite the severity of Rupert's injuries, he'll be walking briskly again in less than two days.

"It's alright, it's alright," Mike said. "By the way, where's Angel? I haven't seen her."

Although he disliked Anastasia, Mike still cared about her safety, since tonight's attack was aimed at him.

“We can see now, and I think Miss Angel should be alright,” Rupert said. “She’s amazing, much more amazing than I expected.” He added.

Before tonight, Rupert thought Anastasia's strength was similar to his own, or even if she was stronger, not by much.

It wasn't until tonight that Rupert realized he had underestimated Anastasia, far too much. Her strength was probably comparable to that of the woman in the apartment building.

Yes, Rupert lied to Anastasia; he had contact with the person in the apartment building. In Rupert's view, this mysterious colleague was the most powerful Beyonder he had ever met.

"Hey, are you two talking about me?" Anastasia's voice came from across the street.

Hearing the familiar, annoying voice, Mike in the carriage breathed a sigh of relief again; at least she was alright.

Anastasia strolled over, looked at Rupert, and said, "How did you get beaten up like this? It's so embarrassing."

Is this mockery or concern?

Rupert found talking to Anastasia to be a mentally taxing task, as her speaking style was always unpredictable.

Anastasia looked at Mike in the carriage, raised the object she was holding and waved it at him, saying, "This is the Transcendent One who created darkness; he has robbed us of our sight."

Mike instinctively shrank back, raising the short sword he had just lowered once more, because Anastasia was holding a blood-soaked human head—Wyatt Hall's head.

A beautiful woman carrying a severed head on a midnight street – the scene is somewhat horrifying.

"Miss Angel, is there really no need to show this thing?" Rupert said, feeling that Anastasia's behavior was a bit excessive.

"What do you know!" Anastasia rolled her eyes at Rupert. "This is proof of my hard work. Shouldn't I show it to Mike? It's called leaving work records, what do you know!"

Rupert didn't understand what "leaving a work record" meant; he still felt that Anastasia's actions were more motivated by revenge.

"The Bizarre One who deprived his sight is dead, and that sadist was also killed by Rupert, tsk tsk tsk—" Anastasia clicked her tongue, "It was a terrible sight, his head was smashed, and his brains were splattered everywhere."

Just listening to Anastasia's description made Mike feel nauseous, and he felt like vomiting again.

"There's another mystery, that bastard who manipulated the girl's corpse is lying in a flowerbed on the street, not dead yet, but he'll be soon," Anastasia continued.

Anastasia stopped talking and looked intently at Mike, as if extending an invitation to him.

Still shaken, Mike looked at Anastasia, and it took him a while to understand the invitation in her eyes: How about you kill the person who is still alive yourself?

Mike Montagu hesitated. Killing is not an easy thing; there is only the first time and countless times.

Rupert glanced at Mike, who was hesitating in the carriage, and then at Anastasia, whose eyes were shining brightly. He couldn't understand what the two were communicating silently.

After a while, Mike's pale, contorted face slowly relaxed, and he shakily stepped down from the carriage, his hands gripping the inner wall.

Anastasia raised an eyebrow; she hadn't expected Mike to accept her invitation.

"This way, Mr. Montague."

As she spoke, Anastasia led Mike toward the flowerbed on the side of the street.

At this moment, the soil in the flower bed had been stained dark red with blood, and the stench was overwhelming.

Anastasia stepped forward, and without her making any move, the four slender swords nailed to the ground vanished, the soil turned over, revealing Danny Knight hidden underneath.

"It's him," Anastasia told Mike. "He's the one who manipulated the girl's body, and he's also the one who stole the carriage."

It was only then that Rupert understood the meaning behind Anastasia's look, and he quickly stepped forward to stop her.

"Angel, he's just an ordinary person!" Rupert shouted. "He's just an ordinary person, he's not one of us, he doesn't need to bear such heinous sins!"

Although Gloria is a dog-eat-dog city where violence and murder are commonplace, Rupert still hopes that Mike's hands will be clean, and that he can bear the sin of murder himself.

“I didn’t make any decisions for him, Mr. Courtney,” Anastasia said. “I simply gave him the choice.”

Mike Montagu can choose to do it himself, or he can choose to have Anastasia or Rupert do it for him.

"This is murder! You know very well what this means!" Rupert said angrily.

"So what?" Anastasia said matter-of-factly. "If people can kill him, why can't he kill people?"

“That’s not the same!” Rupert argued. “Mike was just a normal person. He shouldn’t have killed anyone. He was just a normal person… a normal person, you understand?”

In Rupert's view, murder is a red line that should not be crossed. He doesn't care what others do, he only hopes that Mike will not cross this red line and will not bear such a heavy sin as he did.

The debate between Anastasia and Rupert was a clash of two different ideas; it's not a matter of who was right or wrong, but rather that Rupert's ideas were more idealistic.

"Mr. Courtney, do you remember my first night here?"

Anastasia seemed to suddenly give up arguing and instead brought up her first night at the Riverside Boulevard apartment.

"The first night..." Rupert asked, puzzled. "What happened on the first night?"

"That night, as soon as I fired my gun, the police sirens went off, and a whole bunch of detectives came running over," Anastasia said slowly.

Rupert knew what Anastasia wanted to say.

"Mr. Courtney, how many shots were fired tonight?" Anastasia continued. "I haven't seen a single detective on patrol. Where did they go? It's so hard to guess!"

Rupert was speechless; he had no way to refute Anastasia.

The Upper East Side has always been very safe, with detectives patrolling the streets 24 hours a day. Even at midnight, you can still see detectives patrolling the streets.

Just two days ago, a bloody street incident occurred in the Upper Town. It's impossible for the Upper Town Police Department not to increase patrols. There must be detectives patrolling the street at night, and those detectives must have heard the continuous gunshots.

However, since the first shot was fired, not a single detective has appeared on this street. The detectives who were supposed to be on night patrol have all disappeared, as if they have all taken a vacation.

It is clear that the Uptown Police Department was also involved in tonight's attack on Mike Montagu, with some officers being drawn from nearby neighborhoods.

Just as Anastasia and Rupert were arguing, Danny Knight, who was critically injured and on the verge of death, suddenly regained consciousness.

Unable to move his limbs, Knight could only lie paralyzed on the blood-stained mud, his gradually unfocused eyes looking at the pale-faced Mike, weakly uttering his request.

"Kill me, please..."

Danny Knight didn't beg Anastasia for help; his current miserable fate was orchestrated by her.

Danny Knight didn't beg Rupert either; no one wants to die at the hands of an abuser, and the gruesome death would be beyond imagination.

Danny Knight could only turn to the only ordinary person present for help, hoping that Mike could help him end his pain, and that Mike could end his fear and despair.

A pale-faced Mike shakily stepped forward, his hands trembling even more violently, causing the short sword in his hand to shake violently as well.

Rupert turned his head away, then closed his eyes again; he didn't want to see this.

Anastasia crossed her arms and watched Mike slowly walk over, watching him tremble as he raised his short sword.

With a swift movement, the sword fell.

Mike Montagu's hands were trembling, but when the short sword fell, his trembling hands suddenly became very steady.

Anastasia looked thoughtfully at Mike, who was vomiting violently again. She felt as if she had overlooked something very important, something extremely important.

"I hate you more and more, Angel." Mike slumped weakly to the ground, his face deathly pale.

"It's an honor, Mr. Montagu," Anastasia said calmly.