Chapter 477
Words:1632Update:22/07/01 11:54:38
Whoosh!
Dean grabbed the newspaper again. He stared at the corner of the newspaper: "72 Ives Street. The owner and his wife committed suicide by poison. It is suspected that they had a dispute with their neighbor which led to depression …"
He read it word by word, over and over again, without missing a single word.
His palm faintly trembled, and each breath he exhaled contained a scorching hot air!
Whoa!
He suddenly stood up and crushed all the newspapers on the table, including the consortium's newspaper in his hand.
Neuss was shocked to see Dean's angry appearance. He had followed Dean for a long time but he had never seen Dean so angry. Even when Dean was insulted in prison he didn't have such anger and killing intent!
"You stay here." Dean said coldly and strode out of the office.
Hawkeye who had just finished his work bumped into Dean in the corridor. He was about to greet Dean but he noticed that the atmosphere wasn't right. He carefully asked: "Elder, that person has been dealt with. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going out." Dean brushed past him. The wind swept over Hawkeye's face. Hawkeye felt a chill. "Don't let anyone follow me, or else you won't be able to return!"
Dean walked out of the corridor like a phantom.
Hawkeye was startled as he turned his head. He only saw a corner of Dean's clothes.
…
…
Dean rode out of the manor and rode a horse. It was a red brown horse. It was a special horse belonging to the 'Stantine' family which was behind the 9th region. He didn't need to show any identification as he could go to all parts of the outer wall. He could even go to the heavily guarded central area of the commercial district.
Go!
The healthy horse soared into the sky, as if it was riding on the red dust as it sped away.
Dean came to the central area of the commercial district after an hour or so. It was bustling with activity. The streets were overcrowded with pedestrians and vehicles.
He came to a relay station and dismounted. He threw the rope to the attendant who ran up to him and said, "Take good care of it." After saying that, he turned around and entered the street, blending into the crowd.
Amidst the bustling crowd, he quickly left the street and arrived at the neighboring street. Along the way, he quickly kneaded his face and changed his face. He grabbed a passerby, knocked him unconscious, and dragged him into an alley. Then, he stripped him of his clothes and changed them. After the disguise was done, he flipped over the alleyway and quickly left for the other side of the central district.
After a quarter of an hour, Dean arrived at address 72 of Ives street. He saw a spacious manor with a beautiful environment in front of him. Outside the manor, there was a carriage of magistrate. The carriage was reinforced with steel. It was full of iron and blood. A knight of the magistrate was leaning on the carriage. He was holding a piece of bread in his hand and was chewing it in a depressed manner.
Inside the manor, there was a figure who seemed to be busy with something.
From the air, Dean smelled the strong pungent smell of blood and the smell of rotting corpses. Even after being diluted by the air, the smell didn't disperse for a long time. Even ordinary people could easily smell it, but it wasn't as strong as his. It penetrated deep into the lungs and bone marrow.
Dean's heart sank. It was like falling into a cold frost lake. The chill penetrated into his blood.
Whoosh!
His figure disappeared into the street.
The next moment, Dean's figure appeared on the top floor of the third floor of the manor. He gently opened the skylight and slowly walked in. He saw the dust floating in the sunlight on the third floor. It was obvious that it hadn't been cleaned for a long time.
He was silent for a moment. He slowly walked to the second floor step by step. His movement was like a ghost and didn't make the slightest sound.
He went down to the second floor and saw that the living room was in chaos. The pillows on the sofa were randomly thrown to the ground. It seemed that they had been ransacked by robbers. In the corner of the living room, there was a new textile machine. The light shone on it and the dust was floating.
At the moment, the figure in the villa was busy on the first floor. He seemed to be moving something, making a dragging sound.
Dean bit his lips slightly and quietly walked to the stairs. He suddenly saw a knight of the magistrate wearing several layers of gloves and a mask. His nostrils were bulging. It seemed that the mask alone was not enough to block his breathing. He squatted on the ground and kept retreating. His hands were dragging something. It was a corpse, a seriously rotten corpse!
The corpse was a little swollen and already had livor mortis. His cheeks were full of scars from sharp blades, and there was a pool of blood near his ears. His ears had been cut off, and all his clothes had been stripped off. His towering chest and belly were full of whip marks. It wasn't hard to imagine what kind of torture he had gone through.
The moment he saw the face of the corpse, Dean's mind went blank. He stood there in a daze.
This face belonged to his adoptive mother, Jura!!
The last glimmer of hope in his heart was instantly shattered. It was as if he had fallen into the abyss. His whole body was cold.
This villa was the place where he had ordered people to pick up Jura and her husband. The house had been transferred to Jura and her husband. Therefore, the moment he saw the news in the newspaper, his heart had been hanging in the air. Until now, his heart had sunk deeply.
His mind was in chaos. He stood there in a daze.
Jura's body was dragged by the knight on the smooth wooden floor. Jura's eyes were wide open. They were full of panic and anger. She was like a sculpture. Her neck was tilted as she looked at Dean who was at the stairs. Little by little, she disappeared from the wall until her whole body was dragged out of the villa.
Dean froze in place. Suddenly, an electric light flashed in his mind, and he thought of the conclusion in the newspaper. "Suicide... suicide by poison?"
He was stunned for a moment. He suddenly grinned. He wanted to laugh but couldn't.
"Suicide …"
"There are so many scars on the body. The magistrate actually judged it as suicide!"
He was grinning, but two lines of sorrowful tears slowly flowed from his eyes and slid down his cheeks. The tears rolled down his cheeks and slowly dripped onto his chest. Only then did he slowly realize what was going on, and the grin on his face widened.
But there was no laughter.
It was like a person who laughed to the point of madness, but couldn't laugh out loud.
Once, he thought that he would never be emotional again. He would never cry again.
But the reality ruthlessly rejected his idea. The world had never given anyone privileges.
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