Chapter 8: Wrath

The scene should depict a murder site. The shocking bloodstains and dismembered flesh become key elements that cannot be overlooked in every photograph. The three deceased individuals captured in separate shots are also very clearly identifiable—besides the intelligence chief, Mo Weis, the other two are federal officers, one bearing the insignia of a major and the other that of a lieutenant.

Zhao Yi exuded a faint aura of menace. His expression was devoid of emotion, and even the depths of his eyes appeared somewhat vacant. This instilled a profound sense of fear in the major—those who have spent considerable time on the battlefield understand that this is the most common and typical expression of someone who has been tainted by too much bloodshed, having lost interest in all things, with the mind consumed only by madness and savagery, indifference and ferocity.

Very few people can escape the oversight of the Earth Federation's Census Bureau. Whether for internal control or external vigilance, the Federation requires detailed population survey data. Clearly, the anti-Federation Pan-United Army is unlikely to be involved in this matter. Although Zhao Yi currently does not have the authority to access data from the Census Bureau, it does not mean that there will not be similar opportunities in the future

Bang

Gerald had never been as angry as he was now. Flames burned in his eyes, and this emotion, which could erupt into a frenzy at any moment, caused his already overly muscular body to swell rapidly beneath the specially tailored extra-large uniform. His muscles, filled with explosive power, strained against the elastic fabric, creating a formidable undulation. Thick veins crawled up his slightly forward-leaning neck, pulsating with each heavy breath that erupted from his mouth and nose. Coupled with his height of over 2.2 meters and his tousled, tawny curls, he felt like a fearsome, enraged lion searching for a target to unleash his fury upon.

This is the office of Major General Hamilton.

Zhao Yi calmly gazed at the deceased major, slowly releasing his grip from the other man's shoulder and neck

Before he could finish speaking, Gerald's fist, like a giant hammer, came crashing down, forcefully striking the desk that stood between the two of them. The wooden tabletop, five centimeters thick, was smashed to pieces, and the entire desk broke in half, forming an irregular 'V' shape, shrouded in countless wood shavings and dust.

Although he is originally a Caucasian

Major General Oger clenched his fists in anger, his demeanor resolutely fixed on Gerald, who stood across the table. He had not yet fully recovered from the shock of a few minutes ago, which made his skin appear even paler.

They are not members of the 179th Division. I have checked these two individuals, and there are no records of them in the active military personnel roster of the information center

He walked up to the room marked "Third Planning Office" and, under the gaze of hundreds of eyes, kicked the door open violently

He will definitely not let me go

Put away your boring tricks; I am not the kind of fool who can be easily deceived by wordplay. If you dare to say another word, I will pull out your tongue right now and see just how long it can stretch

Gerald bent down, his hands spread apart and pressed firmly on the table, his thick-fingered hands heavily resting on a photograph that captured the other two deceased alongside Mowis. With wide, glaring eyes fixed on Oger, he erupted in a thunderous roar: "Don't think I am unaware of your intentions. You should consider yourself fortunate—no body of that child was found at the scene. If he truly met with misfortune or some kind of accident... I will ensure you pay the price. You should consider yourself fortunate—no body of that child was found at the scene. If he truly met with misfortune or some kind of accident... I will ensure you pay the price! The entire Hamilton family will bear the consequences for this!"

Figures emerged from various rooms. They continuously glanced in the direction where Gerald had disappeared, while some peered curiously into the shattered doorway. The once silent corridor gradually regained its liveliness, with a cacophony of discussions transforming this space, which should have been serious and indifferent, into a noisy and chaotic marketplace. However, for the protagonist of the event, Ogg, who remained seated in the office, it was evident that he attracted more interest than the already departed Gerald. The gazes released from every corner, directed at him, were filled with pity, anger, schadenfreude, and indifference. Moreover, many wore expressions of detached observation, as if the events had nothing to do with them.

The door, unbound by its latch, stands askew. It cannot even close properly, merely ajar, barely serving as a barrier to shield most curious gazes.

There are many civil servants working at the headquarters of the Federal Army, and even during normal duty hours, nearly twenty thousand personnel remain in the building. It is currently 11:26 AM, and the secretaries delivering documents, the guards responsible for security, the staff officers hurriedly moving between various rooms, and those dressed in civilian clothes, who are actually special members of certain departments, are all present. Many people have seen Gerald, and they instinctively choose to quickly retreat into rooms to avoid him or swiftly move to the recesses of walls and doorways to remain still. At this moment, Gerald's fierce face and the prominent major general insignia on his shoulder are silently observed by countless gazes. His rank, arrogance, and his towering, solid physique compel those who cannot evade him to press themselves against the wall, puff out their chests, draw in their stomachs, and hold their breath, making way for him to pass through with a sufficiently wide corridor.

I tell you, I am also dead...

This general, who rose through the ranks from the lowest soldier, still retains certain idiosyncratic habits. He enjoys medium-rare steaks with bright red blood, often pairs his bread with garlic instead of butter, and prefers to drink vodka in large gulps rather than savoring fine aged wine in small sips. Dining is merely a reflection of life. His robust and straightforward habits allow Gerald to easily integrate with lower-ranking soldiers, yet he is looked down upon by many generals and politicians of equal or higher status. In the circles of the upper echelons, there are even terrifying rumors that he has eaten human flesh and brewed wine with the blood of live prisoners. However, it must be acknowledged that when faced with raw and naked confrontation, the various tricks employed by those like Ogg, who pride themselves on being 'civilized' and manipulate others through political machinations, completely lose their effect and are utterly powerless against the flood-like fury and murderous intent that can erupt.

If we use "etiquette" as a standard for measurement, humanity will be divided into two distinctly different groups—"barbaric" and "civilized"

Zhao Yi's lips curled into a sinister smile as he picked up the combat knife, grasped the major's right hand, and forcefully sliced off the nails from the index and middle fingers, carefully stowing them away in his inner pocket.

... ...

The conflict between the two generals is inherently captivating. It is akin to watching a grand performance without any cost. The content that listeners silently take note of during the quarrel spreads rapidly throughout the entire federal military headquarters like an invisible ghost

In S12, he heard many introductions about cyanide from the veterans. Many assassins would install this highly toxic compound inside the alveolar region. ... For torture or coercive interrogations where the truth cannot be revealed, death ... . ... is indeed a form of relief.

A series of powerful and resonant footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor on the east side of the joint military headquarters building. The rhythm was rapid, clearly exceeding the normal walking speed. The light streaming in at an angle through the window cast beams on the ground, creating a series of illuminated strips separated by the walls, which also elongated the shadow of the approaching figure, making it appear dark and swiftly moving.

Gerald clearly did not remember the earlier phrase "Please knock" from Ogg. He spat a thick gob onto the ground with great force, turned around, walked to the door, and kicked the crooked door panel to pieces once again. Without leaving any words, he angrily disappeared around the corner of the hallway

She was a tall blonde lieutenant. Her experience in handling such emergencies was evidently more seasoned than that of her superior. There were no screams, nor was there any embarrassment or shame on her face. Calmly, she brought her feet together and quickly adjusted her military skirt, which had been pulled up to her hips, from a perspective that would not draw attention from others. After doing all this, she picked up a few sheets of paper from the desk, the contents of which were unclear, and inclined her body slightly towards Major General Oger, who was clearly still trying to grasp the situation, and said in the most composed tone: "General, I will come back later to have you sign these documents." After doing all this, she picked up a few sheets of paper from the desk, the contents of which were unclear, and inclined her body slightly towards Major General Oger, who was clearly still trying to grasp the situation, and said in the most composed tone: "General, I will come back later to have you sign these documents."

"I would rather die than speak... In fact, even the dead cannot keep secrets."

... ...

The intense hostility and anger made Oger feel quite uncomfortable. After calming down from his astonishment, he spread the photos he had just seen across the table, interlacing his fingers and placing his hands flat, forcing a casual laugh as he said: "Esteemed General Gerald, it seems you have come to the wrong place. The Planning and Advisory Department does not have the capability to investigate cases. You should send these items to the Criminal Investigation Department or hand them over to the Police Commissioner. His office is located in Room 65 of the North District. It's not far; just go out from here, turn left, and then..."

The main building of the Earth Federation Army Headquarters is a gray structure over thirty meters high, covering an area of more than six million square meters. Viewed from above, its shape resembles that of ancient European bastions, yet it distinctly displays traces of Eastern-style layered eaves, and even features columns reminiscent of ancient Greek temples. In summary, it lacks a cohesive architectural style to serve as a guiding principle, yet it possesses a myriad of details from various ancient civilizations. The overall impression is complex and chaotic, akin to numerous arrogant architects, each unable to accept their peers, occupying a corner of the building and striving to construct their most favored and revered creations in their respective spaces. Ultimately, the bricks and concrete that extend from countless corners converge in the central area, forcibly molded in a manner that fundamentally defies aesthetic principles, resulting in an extraordinarily peculiar structure that is universally unsatisfactory yet leaves everyone speechless.

You forgot that you should knock on the door first

The major forced a bitter smile, puffed out his cheeks, and clenched his teeth tightly. A faint scent of bitter almonds immediately wafted from his mouth. Following this, his body twitched violently as if in a fit, and a large amount of thick, white, viscous saliva oozed from the gaps between his tightly clenched teeth. In just a few seconds, his breathing through the mouth and nose was completely obstructed, and his bloodshot eyes lost their spark of life.

Gerald did not speak; he directly pulled out a stack of photographs from his jacket pocket and threw them heavily onto the table

Who wants to kill me?

Gerald's facial muscles trembled, and the veins coiling around his neck writhed incessantly. He glared at Oger with a fierce expression and said coldly, "I remind you to retract your filthy claws as soon as possible. I do not wish for a second incident of this kind to occur; you better start praying for that child from now on. Otherwise... you will regret it, as you should never have become human in this lifetime. Do not forget, I was once a member of the reorganized 81st Division."

There is no doubt that Gerald clearly belongs to the former.

This largely reflects the current state of the Earth Federation—regions that have evolved from various countries all aspire to hold absolute dominance within the alliance. However, there are always opposing voices that protest against this. ... There are endless disputes and mutual finger-pointing, both overt and covert constraints ... Although the form of nation-states has disappeared, it has become the greatest source of conflict within the federation under the names of "regions" or "families" ... If one must find a symbolic representation of human social progress amidst this strange and chaotic situation ... Although the form of nation-states has disappeared, it has become the greatest source of conflict within the federation under the names of "regions" or "families" ... If one must find a symbolic representation of human social progress amidst this strange and chaotic situation ... ... Perhaps, the only candidate that is widely recognized, with a basic hue of light green, interspersed with the dual characteristics of the old era's US dollar and Chinese yuan, is the currency referred to as "Federation Dollar".

The decor style of the room is extremely luxurious, with many pieces of furniture featuring typical postmodernist design. As the master of the room, Major General Oger clearly did not anticipate that someone would intrude in such a brutal manner. He stood in shock, staring blankly at Gerald, who strode in through the broken door frame. His hands, unable to retract in time, remained suspended between the secretary's legs, which were exposed between the black stockings he had just torn, revealing her fair skin.

Although this era is capable of remote transmission of holographic images, photographs, as one of the essential methods for preserving evidence, still hold their value as an ancient medium

Bang——