Chapter Four
The microphone on the surveillance camera shattered instantly, but the image was still clearly transmitted to my eyes .
To welcome this "old friend," I used up three Claymore anti-personnel mines and two large cans of military white phosphorus incendiary bombs that I bought from the dark web.
I crisscrossed them all under the composite interlayer of the living room floor.
The lower bodies of the seven or eight believers at the front were blown to pieces .
But this is just the appetizer.
Along with the shockwave of the Claymore mine, the two specially made white phosphorus canisters were instantly detonated in the center of the living room.
The terrifyingly high temperature of 2700 degrees Celsius, like a white flower of death blooming in the depths of hell, instantly engulfed the entire floor!
White phosphorus, an inhumane combustion substance, will erupt into a high-temperature, sticky flame that can never be extinguished once it comes into contact with air and moisture.
"Aaaaaah!! Fire! Fire!"
"My face! Lord! Save me!"
Those armed thugs covered in white phosphorus instantly transformed into dancing fire figures.
They frantically patted the white flames on their bodies, but could only watch in despair as the flames burned through their skin, even burning through their fat and muscle all the way into their bones.
In extreme agony, the group smashed through the glass and fell screaming from the high-rise building into the zombie-infested street below.
The entire living room was transformed into an ultra-high-temperature liquid inferno.
I leaned back leisurely in my leather swivel chair, watching the villains being burned to ashes—a visual treat comparable to the world's finest oil paintings.
But at the edge of the firelight, I squinted slightly.
That old fox Josiah managed to become a powerful figure in his previous life; he certainly had a disgusting survival instinct.
He cruelly grabbed one of his most loyal henchmen and used him as a human shield.
The steel balls riddled the poor creature with holes, but sparks of white phosphorus still pierced through the gaps in the flesh shield and stuck firmly to the right half of Josiah's face.
"Aaaaah! Logan! You cursed Satan!!"
Josiah rolled around in the hallway outside the door like a mad dog, frantically scraping his burning right cheek with the butt of his AR rifle.
With a nauseating sizzling sound, he actually scraped off an entire piece of skin and flesh from his right cheek, along with the red-hot white phosphorus, revealing his pale cheekbone and charred gums!
He survived, but at the terrible cost of losing half his face, and he descended into hysterical madness.
But the most unexpected variable appeared in the life of a emaciated believer on the edge of the inferno.
This was a severely addicted drug addict with a vacant look in his eyes. In this life-or-death moment, he not only inhaled a large amount of black snow spores, but the explosion before him, which resembled a battlefield, also pushed his mind to the brink of complete collapse.
His body began to convulse strangely , and the addict let out an inhuman scream, his hands gripping tightly the arms of Josiah, who was screaming in agony on the ground.
"No...don't die...I want to get out of here! Father, take me away!"
The next second, a soft "hum" sounded.
Not only the drug addict, but also Josiah, whom he had captured, both of them vanished into thin air at the edge of the burning fire zone, right under the watchful eyes of the surveillance cameras!
"A spatial warp ability user?!"
My gaze turned icy cold in an instant.
In the past, a very small number of mutated superhumans did emerge during the disaster, but those with the ability to cross spatial planes were extremely rare!
Unexpectedly, this abnormal ability awakened at this moment in a drug addict who followed Josiah to his death!
They escaped.
Even more fatal is...
The aftershocks of the explosion overturned a hidden safe in the corner of the living room. The safe door was blown off, and a piece of paper with charred edges was swept up by the heat wave and floated lightly onto the pile of wreckage outside in the hallway, which had not yet been engulfed by the flames.
That was a logistics shipment manifest from Seattle's underground arms distribution network, with the destination coordinates clearly printed on it: "[Cascade Mountains, Logging Yard No. 4, Nuclear Bunker]".
