Chapter 103: Beast Blood

In an abandoned warehouse south of the city, dazzling lights of various colors flashed continuously, and the pounding music made the glass windows rattle and shake incessantly.

In the center of the warehouse, the original concrete floor had been transformed into a dance floor. Amid the rapid drumbeats, countless seductively dressed women and young, frenzied boys bounced and swayed wildly, like a gathering of demons.

"So that guy called Andrei is actually very strong, huh? They ganged up on him and still lost? And he's still looking for me at school?"

Hancock, wearing a thick gold chain and a black casual outfit, walked leisurely up a simple iron staircase.

"Shit! You're all a bunch of cowards. I know you were carrying guns—a bunch of guys with less guts than mice. Alright, alright, I'll have someone take care of him after we deal with the trouble here. Some clueless bastard—"

Just then, Hancock frowned and looked down. Two young girls in the dance floor had reached through the railing and were gripping his leather shoes and pant legs.

"Hancock, I can't hold on anymore. I can't take it. I need that stuff now—Number 4. Give me a little, okay?"

"Me too, Hancock. I don't need much, just ten grams, okay?"

"Whoa~"

Hancock let out a laugh, then crouched down: "So, do you two have any money?"

"Can we get an advance?"

One of the girls flashed a fawning smile: "I think I'll have some later. There are plenty of boys here."

The other was already sniffling and crying: "I'll owe you. I've heard about your rules—ten percent monthly interest, right? Give me ten days at most. I'll pay you back in ten days. I'll ask my family for money."

"Deal!"

Hancock snapped his fingers: "Give them the stuff. And remember to check this young lady's student ID and driver's license. I recognize the other one—she's my classmate, our class beauty."

Then he quickly climbed the steps, passed through the maze-like corridors, and went deep into the abandoned warehouse.

This place used to be a freezer, surrounded by half-meter-thick walls and steel plates. Now it had been converted into a secret room, lavishly decorated.

When Hancock entered, he saw a man in a red shirt lying sprawled on the sofa, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Beside him, a group of people were beating a man who was already unrecognizable.

"Hey! Don't dirty my floor, okay? It's expensive!"

Hancock frowned as he walked over, then paused, a strange glint in his eyes: "Look who's here? Isn't this my dear classmate Samson?"

He turned and looked at his men with a questioning gaze: "Poor Samson. He's a very honest guy, the school's top student. What did he do for you to treat him like this?"

One of them shrugged: "He already owes us 3,300 gold shields. He can't pay up, and he won't help us bring goods into the academy. You should know, Hancock, the school's gone crazy these past couple of days. Every time we brothers try to get in, we have to walk right under the noses of those Lindon family outlaws. We've lost at least 120 grams of Number 4 and 200 grams of K powder. And a few of our brothers might end up in juvenile court."

Hancock's face turned cold. He grabbed Samson's head and slammed it hard against the floor: "Clean him up and throw him out. Clean this place up. Tell the guys downstairs not to supply him anymore."

But just as he was about to stand up and leave, he found Samson's bloody hand tightly gripping his pant leg. Samson's clouded eyes looked up at him with a pleading expression.

Hancock's gaze turned ferocious, filled with intense disgust.

He was about to lift his foot and stomp that hand to pieces, but then his expression shifted slightly, and he crouched down again: "You won't help me, will you, Samson? Just bring a little something to school. It's easy. If you help me, I'll wipe out your 3,000-dollar debt."

Samson hesitated visibly, but finally shook his head firmly. Instead of getting angry, Hancock laughed. He took a white pill from his pocket: "Then do me another favor. It'll also clear your debt, and I'll even pay you a salary from now on, with enough Number 4 every day to keep you happy. All you have to do is swallow this pill. Of course, there's some risk, Samson. It can make you a powerful fighter, but there's also a chance you'll die. It depends a bit on your own will. Tell me, you're willing, right? You're willing to take it, come back to life, and be my buddy."

At that moment, the man in the red shirt on the sofa turned his head to watch.

Samson hesitated again, but after ten seconds, he reached out a trembling hand and took the pill.

Watching the bloody-faced boy swallow the pill, Hancock suddenly stepped back a dozen paces, looking on with eager anticipation.

"Beast Blood Type III. Did the higher-ups ask you to find test subjects again?" said the man in the red shirt.

"They gave me seven pills and told me to find people to test. Damn it!"

Hancock cursed: "Where am I supposed to find that many test subjects? Even the bums on the street aren't enough. They say it can produce Beast Blood warriors, but not a single attempt has succeeded so far—they all just went bang and exploded. I really hope this one gives me a surprise. After all, he's got at least Level 3 magical energy."

"He's a student at Lindon Academy," said the man in the red shirt, shaking his head. "This will piss off the Lindon family."

"Didn't you say they're too busy to bother with us now? Something about a branch of the Lindon family not liking our Miss Louis? They're having internal strife, right?"

"I did say that, but the problem is, even if they spare just one finger, they can crush you."

The man in the red shirt snorted with laughter and lay back down: "Forget it, do what you want. I haven't seen anyone as crazy as you in years."

Hancock continued to watch Samson with amusement. The latter's eyes were bleeding, foam was coming from his mouth, and the muscles all over his body began to swell abnormally.

But just then, an angry snort came from the doorway: "Dandy Hancock!"

Hancock found the voice familiar. He paused and looked sideways. A burly, familiar figure appeared at the entrance.

"Adam Richard?"

He was utterly surprised, his eyes full of disbelief: "How did you get here? Damn it, didn't you guys close the door? You let our grade advisor in?"

But before he could finish questioning his men, Richard rushed over and slammed a heavy punch into Hancock's face.

Hancock staggered back a few steps, blood trickling from his face.

"Hey! Grade advisor, can't we talk this out? No need for violence."

But the response was another heavy iron fist. Hancock spat blood and began to rage.

"Are you all just going to stand there? Get this old bastard off me! Kill him! How dare he hit me?"

But the few men who approached were sent flying one after another within seconds, and Hancock's cheek took another heavy blow, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Need help?"

The man in the red shirt watched the commotion: "Give me a hundred thousand gold shields. This old guy is no pushover. He was at least a Level 10 magical energy professional before, and now he's still Level 7. His fighting skills are sharp—I'd guess he was a special forces soldier."

Enraged, Hancock reached behind his back and grabbed a magical energy gun.

But at that moment, a massive figure suddenly lunged from the side and slammed heavily into Richard's waist.

The immense force sent Richard crashing into the wall, the bones in his body cracking audibly.

"My God!"

Hancock first exclaimed in surprise, looking at the giant before him—at least three meters tall, like a beast. Then excitement crept into his voice: "Kill him, Samson! He used to discipline you too, didn't he? No, no—first break his arms and legs—"

Even the man in the red shirt narrowed his eyes, his expression unusually grave.