Saints and Demons United, Their Strength Cuts Through Steel (Part Two)

This moment was all Jill Young needed! She burst out from behind cover like a tiger descending the mountain, charging straight at the stunned guards.

Along the corridor, fluorescent strips glowed faintly in the darkness. The sudden blackout left ordinary people blind, but Jill could see everything she needed, thanks to those dim lights.

"Die!" Jill swung a heavy blow at the lead guard, caving in his chest and sending him flying without so much as a grunt—knocking over three or four others behind him. She spun and unleashed a roundhouse kick, twisting another guard’s head a full three-sixty; he whirled away like a bamboo dragonfly.

"Ah! She killed two people, she's coming!" Someone fired, someone screamed, someone roared, and someone shouted in terror. In the pitch-black corridor, scattered gunfire flashed like strobe lights at a dance club. In those bursts of light, Jill darted like a phantom, weaving in and out—most of the panicked bullets ended up in the wall or a hapless teammate, helping Jill rack up her body count.

By now, Jill had recovered the strength of the Titan Spirit Method: Third Level. In close quarters, she was basically invincible! Heavy fists, crushing kicks, snapped tendons, shattered bones—the gunfire quickly faded. When Fran Adler charged in with her axe, she saw Jill grabbing the last guard by the hair and smashing his head into the wall.

Bang! Like a watermelon struck with a bat, the burly guard’s head warped and the screams ended abruptly.

All around, silence.

After taking out the last guard, Jill staggered. Fran rushed forward to steady her, only to feel a patch of wet heat. Fran sniffed her hand—blood! "You got shot? Oh my god, that's a lot of blood!"

"Relax, it’s not all mine." Jill leaned on Fran’s shoulder, gritting her teeth. "But I did get hit more than a few times!" She dodged most of the bullets, but in that chaos, there was no way to avoid them all—especially the ricochets.

"Quick, let’s find a scalpel, disinfectant, and a safe spot!" Beatrice Bliss hurried over, pushing the blind girl ahead. "I need to operate right now, or she’ll bleed out before anything else!"

"A safe place?" Fran Adler asked anxiously. "Where’s safe around here?"

Celeste tugged on Beatrice Bliss’s sleeve and spoke quietly, "I think I know a good spot."

Upstairs, in that lavish room, the old white guy was raging in the dark. The power was out, intercoms were dead, but he wasn’t completely helpless.

"Thank god for the wireless tower in here!" The old man whipped out his phone and dialed. "What the hell is going on? Why’d the power go out—what? Four little brats fought their way to the power room, trashed the supply, killed all the guards, and just strolled off? Are you describing your own incompetence? Get the backup power online and find those four brats!"

Panting, the old man cursed his useless minions. Bullies when picking on weaklings, but the moment they hit real trouble, they fold—what a waste! Still, maybe those four brats had something special? He remembered: even with backup power, only the upper floors got electricity; downstairs would stay pitch dark.

Thinking fast, the old man made another call. "Send more men—get every guard down there to search! And use heavy firepower if you have to." He wouldn’t mind a few casualties; he just wanted this circus over with.

At his command, the guards grabbed grenades, hefted machine guns, and the commanders strapped on night vision goggles. They moved out and, after a quick look, the commander concluded: "There’s a map in the power room—they’ve got the layout. Looks like they’re heading upstairs. Move!"

With a thunder of footsteps, the guards stormed out, ready to blast the four intruders to bits with everything they had.

But after ten minutes of searching, they still came up empty. "Damn this darkness—where’d those chicks go? Wait, the ventilation ducts!" The commander snapped, "Team B, smoke out the vents! Drive those rats out!" Let’s see where you hide now!

While the guards were busy with the smoke, deep underground in the creepiest part of the base—where 'customers' handled 'merchandise'—the place was deserted, not even the guards bothered searching here. It was a dead end within a dead end. Who’d run here if they were trying to escape?

In reality, Jill and the others had returned—not just anywhere, but straight to Room 7, where Customer No. 7 had been skinned. It was safe, secluded, and most importantly, the surgical tools on the table were just as handy for an operation as they were for flaying.

Fran picked up a flamethrower and sparked a flame. "No idea what kind of sick freaks set this up—but it’s perfect for sterilizing." She squeezed the trigger, sending fire over the knives and scissors.

Beatrice Bliss cleared a table for Jill to lie flat. She snipped open Jill’s clothes, leaving only her underwear. By flamethrower light, Beatrice studied Jill’s wounds and said, "Seven gunshots. With what we’ve got, you’ll just have to grit your teeth. Fran, hold her hands."

(This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page for more!)

Fran pinned Jill’s wrist from beside her head. "Hang in there, you’ve got this."

"Go ahead, do your worst." Jill glanced at Fran above her, then at Beatrice to the side, and suddenly grinned. "If someone saw this, would they think you two were trying to assault me?"

"Ha! Damn it, you’ve still got jokes?" Fran patted Jill’s cheek and planted a kiss on her forehead. "If we make it out alive, you can have your turn assaulting me!"

"Here we go!" Beatrice lined up the first cut. Jill grunted, her whole body tensing up. "Relax, your muscles are too tight—I can’t get the bullet out!" Jill forced herself to loosen up, but cold sweat trickled down her forehead.

"Done! First one’s out!" Beatrice plucked a bullet from Jill’s thigh and dropped it into a tray. Celeste pressed near Jill’s wound, and the bleeding slowed as the wound shrank. "You know Chinese medicine?" Beatrice looked at Celeste in surprise. "Amazing Eastern skills!"

Jill didn’t bother translating, and Celeste didn’t understand Beatrice’s words. But she smiled serenely, like an orchid blooming in a silent valley.

"Next up, the abdomen." Beatrice found the next wound and made another cut. Jill groaned and shuddered, then forced herself to relax. "Celeste," Jill said with effort, "since you know acupressure, can you hit a numb spot or sleep point or something?"

Celeste shook her head apologetically. "Sis, honestly, my skills are pretty basic. I only stopped the bleeding because you’re so tough—it was barely me at all."

"Oh?" Jill managed a strained smile. "I was hoping for a miracle worker."

Spurt—a jet of blood shot out, and Jill winced but didn’t cry out. "Second one’s out!" Beatrice wiped sweat from her face. "You’re really tough—your abs stopped the bullet from getting into your belly. I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s unreal."

Jill opened her mouth, about to say, "It was a slowed-down ricochet," but Beatrice’s scalpel was already at the third wound.

"Ugh!" Jill’s muscles spasmed, her whole body twitching. "Get her something to bite! So she doesn’t chew her tongue off!" Beatrice ordered as she pulled the third bullet out.

"I—I’ve got something!" Jill gasped, signaling Fran to let go of her right hand. Out of nowhere, she produced a slice of meat. Nobody cared where it came from; Jill stuffed meat into her mouth, chewing and swallowing fiercely. That meat was her XP Potion, her Big Red Bottle—she needed it to keep her strength up.