Taking advantage of the moment, Charles charged at the black Mihe, determined to prevent it from using the relic again.

  “@&＃@！！” The black Mihe shouted something quickly, and its companions rushed to block Charles, trying to create distance between them.

  Seeing the black Mihe in the back raise the hourglass again, Charles gritted his teeth, stomped hard on the monster in front of him, and propelled himself into the air.

  His vision cleared, and he spotted the distant black Mihe, but at the same time, he felt exposed to gunfire.

  Dozens of gun barrels were raised, and if they fired, Charles would be turned into a sieve in an instant.

  In that critical moment, a grappling hook shot out from Charles's prosthetic limb, piercing the distant black Mihe's palm. The hourglass fell to the ground, clattering.

  With a sharp tug, Charles was pulled toward the black Mihe in mid-air, gunfire ringing out as bullets hit the ceiling behind him.

  With a swift motion, Charles swung his chainsaw down, severing the black Mihe’s neck.

  Amidst the rain of blood, Charles slowly turned to face the stunned Mihe around him.

  These monsters, staring at the human before them, showed signs of fear in their cross-shaped pupils.

  “Buzz~!” The chainsaw roared back to life as Charles lunged at them like a fierce tiger.

  There was no need to elaborate; without using relics, the remaining Mihe fell before Charles like chickens before a hawk.

  Ten minutes later, drenched in blood, Charles panted heavily, surrounded by the corpses of Mihe.

  He glanced at the gunshot wound on his leg, gritted his teeth, and dug his fingers into the wound to pull out the bullet.

  “Wait, this thing might still be useful.” Richard, controlling his body, picked up the fallen hourglass from the pool of blood.

  Charles stepped forward, leaving bloody footprints as he approached the exit—a staircase leading up, indicating that the second laboratory was underground.

  Outside, it seemed bright, with faint sounds reminiscent of a bustling square on a summer evening at seven.

  As they slowly emerged, despair washed over their faces at the sight before them.

  Richard, exasperated, raised the hourglass and threw it to the ground. “Damn! So many of them! If you had told us there were this many, we would have just stayed in the cell!”

  Before them lay a square nearly the size of four football fields, filled with almost ten thousand Mihe engaged in various human activities, while hundreds of black Mihe stood guard around them, each wielding relics of varying sizes.

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  At that moment, all the creatures in the square turned their attention toward Charles and Richard, their emotionless gazes creating an overwhelming pressure that left Charles breathless.

  Richard forced a smile. “Buddy, do you think if we go back now and lock the door from the inside, they’d let us off?”

  “What good is that now? This is all your fault!”

  “Hey, I know I messed up! If we survive this, I’ll definitely listen to you next time.”

  Charles suppressed his anger and looked into the distance, where the city they had come from lay. Hope was slim, but if they could reach the city, there might be a chance to escape the creatures’ pursuit.

  “Let’s go for it!” Ignoring the Mihe’s stares, Charles dragged his injured leg and sprinted toward the city.

  In the next moment, the Mihe in the square sprang into action, chaos erupting as they scattered.

  Charles was momentarily stunned, then filled with elation as he ran toward the city, but just as one of the black Mihe raised its relic, his body stiffened, as if turned to stone, collapsing to the ground.

  He watched helplessly as the black Mihe closed in, a bloody mass being shoved into his mouth.

  In a daze, he lost consciousness again.

  When Charles woke up, the overhead lights were blinding, causing him to squint instinctively.

  As he adjusted to the brightness, he realized he was trapped in a spacious white room. This time, his “treatment” was much harsher; he was bound to a steel frame, with shackles on all four limbs and chains wrapped tightly around his body.

  In front of him was a massive glass wall, behind which several Mihe stood, operating electronic devices that seemed to be monitoring Charles.

  Richard let out a sigh of relief. “Well, at least we made it out alive.”

  Charles’s eyes flashed with anger; his other persona had been too reckless, but he didn’t want to argue at this moment.

  Just then, a door opened, and a robed Mihe walked in, holding a spiked whip in one hand and a bucket filled with black water in the other.

  The whip was first soaked in the bucket, then swiftly swung at Charles.

  “Crack!” The whip struck Charles’s body, and the searing pain made him grunt in agony.

  After more than ten lashes that left him bloodied, the Mihe left the room.

  Charles thought the punishment was over, but the pain was just beginning. As time passed, it felt like countless ants were crawling over his wounds, gnawing at his flesh.

  The pain made his muscles tremble, and even his strong will faltered as he let out cries of anguish.

  The room echoed with his screams, interspersed with Richard’s curses.

  This torturous agony receded after two hours, leaving Charles gasping and trembling.

  “Clang!” The iron door opened again, and another Mihe entered, this time without any instruments of torture, but carrying a bowl of mushrooms, which it placed in front of Charles before stepping back.

  Charles could understand punishment, but what was the meaning of placing a bowl of mushrooms here?

  Time ticked by, and Charles endured the pain while reflecting on the information he had gathered. Despite the overwhelming number of Mihe, he refused to abandon hope for escape.

  Two hours later, two Mihe entered—one clad in a white robe and the other holding a notebook.

  “＆*@￡……” A rapid series of garbled sounds emerged from the lips of the white-robed Mihe.

  “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t understand what you’re saying!” Charles weakly protested.

  The white-robed Mihe ignored Charles and continued speaking, while the one behind it quickly took notes.

  Charles glanced over and realized that the writing in the notebook was incomprehensible, resembling the jumbled symbols on goods from the fake cities—just a series of chaotic black dots.

  As he pondered what the Mihe were doing, a familiar low, rumbling voice echoed in his ear.

  Charles's face contorted in pain; in this situation, he could do nothing but bear it.

  But at that moment, he suddenly sensed something unusual—the murmuring intertwined with the Mihe's speech, and a familiar low human voice emerged in his ear. He suddenly understood what they were saying.

  “134, I hope you will refrain from any more reckless escapes. We have found your previous records; you are the planner behind the 517 uprising. If you continue like this, we will take extreme measures.”