NenMaster
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Chapter 113
🕑 Added 2024-12-14 16:00:11 +0000 UTCBefore their thoughts could fully register, a series of muffled thuds echoed through the room.
It felt as though their brains had been struck by a speeding car, followed by excruciating pain. In an instant, everything went black.
Splatter!
Seven vivid sprays of blood erupted simultaneously.
TL: (idk why the MC is playing saint)
With the last flicker of vision they had in this lifetime, they stared in disbelief at the young man holding a dark, still-smoking handgun.
Now, they finally understood…
Thud!
Several lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, pooling blood spreading rapidly across the floor.
For a moment, silence consumed the room.
Then—
“Ahhhhh!”
A chorus of high-pitched screams erupted as panic set in.
Splash!
The blood pooling beneath the corpses spread further, sending people scrambling back in horror.
Many stared wide-eyed at the gruesome scene, hearts pounding uncontrollably.
For the first time, they realized how close death had come to them.
Bang!
Another gunshot rang out, piercing the air.
“Shut up! All of you, quiet!”
Annoyed by the noise, Morin fired a shot into the ceiling.
The room fell silent immediately.
The women who had been screaming clamped their hands over their mouths, trembling.
They feared making the slightest sound that might anger the madman before them and earn themselves a bullet.
Those who couldn’t control their outbursts were forcibly silenced by the men beside them, who covered their mouths, muffling their cries into stifled hums.
All eyes turned to Morin, their faces a mix of shock and fear.
Even the most oblivious among them now understood.
The man standing before them, this merciless killer, was no noble.
“Good. Finally some peace and quiet,” Morin said, his tone relaxed as he blew away the smoke from his gun barrel.
Strictly speaking, the weapon was no ordinary firearm.
Item: M1917 Smith & Wesson from the Land of Pretty Lighthouses.
Effect: A versatile tool for war and daily shooting sprees.
For a handgun, it was decent—a functional hot weapon with respectable firepower.
At least it had no trouble dispatching the seven representatives from those nations.
“Alright, let’s cut to the chase. Everyone’s time is valuable,” Morin said, casually spinning the gun around his finger, the motion causing an audible rise in tension among the crowd.
“As you’ve seen, I’m a thief,” Morin announced straightforwardly.
“I’m here to inform you that you are now my hostages. Consider yourselves kidnapped.”
Kidnapped?
Some of the world’s top billionaires exhaled slightly, relieved.
If it was just a kidnapping, that wasn’t too bad. Perhaps this was manageable.
Some even began discreetly reaching for their concealed emergency devices, ready to summon their bodyguards.
But—
“Alright, now, everyone, hands in the air,” Morin instructed, cocking his gun.
“I’ll count to three. Anyone who hasn’t raised their hands—starting with the ladies—I’ll assume you’re unwilling to cooperate. And those unwilling…”
His tone turned icy.
“…will join the gentlemen already on the floor.”
One.
Morin barely said the word before jumping directly to—
Three.
Instinctively, most people raised their arms high above their heads.
But a few, busy fumbling with their safety devices, were too slow. That hesitation was enough to separate life from death.
Bang!
The gun spat fire again, mercilessly reaping more lives.
“I gave you a chance, but you blew it,” Morin sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“Alright, I think we’ve established by now that I’m not joking,” he said, flashing a bright smile.
“I take my work very seriously.”
The remaining guests: …
Yes. Very seriously.
“I knew it…”
Luzlus, hands raised like the others, wore an expression of sheer resignation.
Initially, he had assumed the earlier “fireworks” outside were merely signs of trouble for the Mosibia royal family.
He hadn’t expected the chaos to spill over and target him.
This was the epitome of misfortune—sitting on the couch, yet trouble falls from the sky.
“Seventh Prince!!”
The man with the slicked-back hair next to him, also raising his hands, was visibly panicked.
“Are we going to be okay?! What’s even happening here?!”
“You’re asking me? Who do I ask?!”
Luzlus was internally exasperated.
“I’d love to know the answer myself!”
“That man just killed so many officials and renowned billionaires from across the world without hesitation. Does he not fear making enemies of every noble family on the planet?!”
Slick-back’s voice quivered with disbelief as he speculated wildly.
“I don’t know if he fears the world’s nobles, but I do know I’m terrified he might kill me!” Luzlus thought, resigned.
In moments like this, survival was the only thing that mattered.
Although Luzlus carried the pride of a prince of the Kakin Empire, pride had its limits.
Right now, raising his hands to save his life didn’t feel humiliating at all.
Especially since everyone else was doing the same—at least it didn’t seem so demeaning in unison.
“Alright, now that everyone’s cooperating, let me briefly share my thoughts,” Morin said.
Morin began his performance:
“I am a bandit. I don’t want money, nor do I want power. I have no interest in the resources or authority you wield.
“All I know is that you are now my hostages, and you will follow my instructions.”
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried clearly to every ear in the room.
“Now, I’d like to invite you all to play a little game,” he continued.
“A game that concerns your very lives!”
A kind smile appeared on Morin’s face, but his words sent chills down the spines of everyone present:
“If you want to survive, you’d better play your part. Otherwise, the bullets in my gun don’t discriminate.”
He twirled the Smith & Wesson in his hand again before outlining the rules:
“The rules are simple. I’ll randomly choose someone. That person will start by confessing the worst thing they’ve ever done.”
“Then, that person must pick someone else in the room whom they believe has committed an even worse or more unforgivable act.”
“If they can identify and name such a person, I’ll spare them and shift the gun to the person they’ve named.”
“And so the game continues, until we find the one person whose deeds are the most intolerable and irredeemable in the room.”
“That’s all. The rules are clear, aren’t they? Anyone in favor? Anyone opposed?”
Silence.
“Does anyone have any other suggestions?”
Once again, silence reigned.
“Excellent. It seems there are no objections,” Morin said with a light nod.
Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he pointed his gun at a middle-aged guest in his forties or fifties, with a thick beard covering his face.
“You. You’ll start. Tell us the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
Morin’s finger rested on the trigger. “If you don’t speak up within ten seconds, you’re going to meet God.”
“I-I-I…”
The man stammered, as though an ant trapped on a hot griddle. After a moment of flustered stuttering, he suddenly raised his hand and shouted:
“I once embezzled disaster relief funds worth tens of millions of jenny!”
Oh?
The other guests turned to look at him, their gazes instantly shifting to ones of disdain and wariness.
Although there were many corrupt officials in the room, embezzling disaster relief funds… tsk tsk.
“Embezzling disaster relief funds? Are you sure that’s the worst thing you’ve done?” Morin asked, his smile faint yet unnerving.
“Yes… yes!”
The man’s voice faltered briefly before regaining its usual tone.
The ability to change expressions seamlessly—truly the hallmark of a seasoned politician.
“All right, if you insist,” Morin replied nonchalantly, glancing at Chagrahma beside him.
Chagrahma, understanding the silent cue, gave a bitter smile before picking up the Truth Sticker and walking toward the bearded man with a complicated expression.
“Chagrahma… What… what are you doing?”
The bearded man instinctively wanted to stop him, but the sight of Morin’s pistol aimed squarely at him made him swallow hard. Resigned, he let Chagrahma place the sticker on his chest.
And then, in the very next moment:
“Actually, embezzling disaster relief funds is just the tip of the iceberg!”
The man suddenly shouted, his voice involuntarily loud.
Everyone in the room turned to stare at him, their eyes filled with astonishment and disdain.
His own eyes were wide with shock and fear, but his mouth moved uncontrollably, speaking the truth for all to hear:
“Not only did I embezzle the relief funds, but I also framed a colleague who was honest, diligent, and incorruptible! That fool had the audacity to work hard and refused to turn a blind eye to the rest of us.”
“I couldn’t stand him! He was constantly watching over us, making it impossible to siphon off anything for myself. I’d been wanting to get rid of him for a long time. So, I used this as an opportunity to take him down.”
“I not only got him imprisoned, but I also had him tortured in jail. Eventually, I had him killed and destroyed all evidence of his existence!”
The more the bearded man confessed, the paler his face grew, as though he could hardly believe the words spilling from his mouth.
