He Yu changed into a formal suit. There was no other way; the suit Yu Yu had bought for him was already ruined. It cost tens of thousands of yuan and wasn't durable at all. It was just a waste of money.
He felt that Beelzebub's costume designer must have put a lot of thought into designing his clothes.
This outfit has a retro feel, is black, and has dark gold stitching that subtly shows through. The lining is also in the same color scheme, giving off a luxurious and grand vibe, while also perfectly accentuating his physique. If you look closely, he's actually quite damn handsome.
This elegant outfit, when worn by him, exudes a murderous aura, as if it exists to highlight a dark inner self that is completely incompatible with his outward appearance.
He Yu could never figure out what those people were trying to do. Sometimes he felt that they weren't even interested in him. Although they wanted to know everything, they were working together to create an elegant and high-end image.
As he was leaving, he saw Connorson, also dressed in a formal suit, coming out from the other side. Connorson probably dressed up just to project an air of refinement, after all, he was a stupid host.
On the way down from the castle, everyone was dressed up meticulously, each one more formal than the last, as if they were going to a fashion show. This was certainly good; to dress up in style and then die was the perfect choice.
The front hall was brightly lit, its flames burning against the dark backyard. Despite being a morning banquet, it was still lavishly prepared, a visual feast for fashion designers, just like their clothes. They wanted to flaunt everything, eager to have everyone's eyes glued to them.
There were also many mutated creatures on site, with human heads and animal bodies, dressed in restricted clothing, wandering around. They were all placed there by Beelzebub to decorate the venue, and were treated as consumables, but with a slightly higher status, providing some services.
Most guests believe that the purpose of these animals being here is simply to keep people company and help them relieve stress.
In all previous theatrical performances, the mortality rate of these genetically hybrid creatures has been the highest. After all, toys will always break, and you can't expect anyone to have sympathy.
He Yu watched them for a while, then spread the line throughout the banquet hall. He casually picked up a glass of wine. Connorson was putting the empty glass back, his eyes never leaving the group of waiters—well, it seems he picked a good one.
The guests in the lobby exchanged a few polite words, and soon began to make a ruckus. Some ate, while others went straight to the bedrooms for service—from an ethical point of view, this was a scene that fully expressed the depravity of human nature.
Midway through the banquet, Weeks went to the restroom, and He Yu put down his wine glass and followed him from behind.
This bastard must have run into someone before he came here. There's a bloody scratch that runs diagonally across half of his face, and the wound hasn't been treated at all; it's just exposed like that.
With Jerusalem's medical technology, treating this level of injury would be a piece of cake. Besides, this person was an operative who spent all his time in the laboratory, and it was he who came up with the despicable idea of genetic mixing.
However, it's hard to explain to someone with a screw loose. Only theater performers would keep these things, usually as a memento of their life of killing, or perhaps as a unique consumable item. Who knows? Or maybe they were influenced by the Japanese idea of seppuku.
When he opened the door, only Weeks was in the bathroom, urinating with a cigarette in his mouth. When he saw him come in, the man was obviously stunned for a moment, then turned his head away and ignored him.
But He Yu closed the door and then stood in the doorway staring at him.
Three seconds passed, then Weeks turned around, took a breath, and said, "You can't kill me."
The latter shrugged and asked, "D02, a split?"
The other person frowned, and He Yu, seeing that he had finished, smiled brightly and walked over.
The process took about three minutes and five seconds.
There is a fundamental difference between killing and fighting. You won't openly pull out a weapon and walk over because you have no intention of intimidating him, nor do you care whether the enemy will surrender. You have only one goal: to kill him and send him to hell.
Therefore, when you take action, you won't care about the counterattack you receive, nor will you feel scared or think about how to escape when the other party swings their fists or pulls out a weapon.
You only have one thing on your mind: how to seize the opportunity, utilize everything around you, and your own strengths, to kill someone in the fastest and most direct way.
He Yu dodged Weeks' punch, but instead of retreating, he moved forward and stabbed Weeks in the abdomen with his bare hands, pulling him down with his bare hands.
He took a knee strike, but it was negligible. The man still tried to attack, and in less than a second, his entire jaw split open, forming a huge mouth covered with sharp bone spurs, which he then bit down on He Yu's shoulder.
Then, something unbelievable happened. He incredulously spat out the piece of flesh and blood, then looked at his lower abdomen, which was already stained red with blood, and his intestines were spilling out recklessly.
He stopped in his tracks, seemingly confused about the situation, and then lunged forward again. He Yu immediately struck out with a backhand slap, smashing Weeks' jaw. The man staggered, bleeding more and more, and finally collapsed to the ground.
"6...602? Why would you have..."
He Yu didn't hear what the idiot was saying. The man's throat was full of blood, and his voice was too muffled. He walked over to Weeks, grabbed his hair, and twirled the thread in his other hand.
He tried to raise his hand to block, but he was completely powerless to resist. The two were locked in a stalemate for less than three seconds before He Yu swiftly slit his throat.
Weeks died quickly, his face still bearing the look of astonishment and surprise. People who work for Eoubs always have this moment; they should have been prepared long ago.
After the pleasurable opening, He Yu stood up. There was some blood on his collar and cuffs. He turned around, looked at himself in the mirror, and thought, "Damn, I look so handsome."
His suit was fairly clean, and he was handsome; he was practically a model young man.
After admiring the scene for a few seconds, he walked to the sink, took out his cigarette case and placed it aside, washed the bloodstains from his hands, and roughly tidied his appearance.
Then he picked up a pack of cigarettes next to Weeks that had only been smoked a few times; it was menthol, lucky him.
He didn't bother wiping the blood off his head; he just held it between his lips, opened the door, and walked towards the bustling banquet outside.
Behind He Yu, the man's blood was still flowing out quietly, and it would take a little while for it to congeal. His intestines were already starting to feel cold, and it was unknown whether it would attract some mixed-race individuals.
In the hallway of the front hall, he ran into Connorson, who seemed to have just finished relieving himself, looking very relieved, and was also heading to the restroom.
He smiled politely, and He Yu smiled back. At this time, the people outside should still be relatively normal. The banquet had been going on for less than half an hour, and very few people would want to kill someone for no reason. Those who died were basically just waiters.
Behind him, the host opened the bathroom door.
Someone took a drag of a cigarette, then loosely clenched their fist, tightening all the wires inside, and kept walking forward. Of course, it was very quiet behind them; no screams could be heard at this time—the instant kill was completed very quickly, almost to the point of directly shredding a person into minced meat.
"Take your time, don't rush."
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