The Emperor’s Angel of Death

As soon as Roachim entered the hall, he couldn't help but marvel at how it was indeed one of the top ten venues in Red Moon Street. Not only was it decorated in a gold and jade splendor that made it seem nothing like the lower hive, but the attendants and girls inside were also very young and beautiful, with proper manners and conduct. It was nothing like the vulgar bottom hive brothels. There was even a professional band playing on the stage in the hall, their notes seemingly lazily crawling through the air.

A long and narrow bar occupied a corner of the hall. On one side, a luxurious portrait hung on the wall, depicting a seductive daemon intertwined with a strong farmer. Its gilded frame sparkled in the light. Nearby, an exquisite marble statue depicted a group of slender nude girls, which was very inconsistent with the Empire's national religion, civilization, moral conventions, and the Public Security Administration Law of the Ministry of Justice, but no one here would care.

Customers swarming to the counter shouted for more drinks. Many of them were followers of their respective bosses or owners, waiting below while their leaders enjoyed themselves upstairs, idly chatting about aimless gossip.

Of course, Roachim's group, looking particularly unique, definitely attracted a lot of attention. Judging from the wary glances cast their way, this curiosity was not out of courtesy, but rather out of vigilance and fear.

In any case, Roachim presented the image of a standard gang leader, and in Red Moon Street, vendettas and killings were not uncommon. Everyone who came here had some enemies.

However, these places were able to stay open for so long and become so powerful because they definitely had ways to avoid such situations.

To Roachim, this 'potentially dangerous element', a very greasy but experienced manager walked over with a smile, respectfully saying:

"Boss, there is a private room prepared for you. If you need any service, or want to order any girls, please feel free to tell me."

"Okay, lead the way."

As Roachim and his group followed the manager to the private room, two pairs of eyes watched them through tiny surveillance devices until they left.

They were hiding on the roof of a hotel a hundred meters away from the club. One of them was tall, with fair skin, and a few strands of blond hair peeked out from under his wide-brimmed hat. His aquiline nose and sharp blue eyes gave his features a rugged handsomeness. A long coat wrapped his body, and a sword and a large laser pistol hung on the wide belt around his waist.

At the same time, he wore a silver symbol around his neck that was considered taboo by everyone in this area—the rosette of the Inquisition.

Even the most arrogant gang leaders knew that being targeted by these hounds from the ground would quickly lead to swift and terrible destruction.

The second person was slender, with short black hair, a chiseled nose, and a small mustache. His eyes always seemed to show dissatisfaction, disdainfully evaluating everything he stared at.

He also wore a rosette around his neck.

"Just another underhive scum, not worth worrying about."

"Yeah, I don't need you to repeat that. I have eyes. The point is we need to find out why Inquisitor Suhrab came here before he disappeared. We didn't gain anything last time we went in disguised."

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong direction. The Inquisitor went to many places, and he only came here once."

"True, but my intuition tells me it's definitely related to this place."

"If it really is, Ms. Sissina would have no reason not to have discovered it. Now our focus should be shifting to the black market for illegally traded alien items, instead of wasting time here. Besides, it seems like it won't be peaceful here for long. It seems like several gang leaders have disappeared recently, and the flames of vendetta will soon be ignited."

As he finished speaking, the two Inquisitors suddenly realized that something seemed to have already happened.

The surrounding streets suddenly became as quiet as a tomb.

Too quiet, almost like some kind of witchcraft.

"Looks like the guys inside are going to be unlucky, especially that group that just went in."

An attendant shook his head with a sneer.

As if to confirm this statement, a vigorous vitality burst out from the silent darkness, and howls, roars, and wails rang out from the shadows around the street.

The sound of boots colliding with the ground told people that many huge bodies were moving quickly and hurriedly.

A high-pitched, irritable, inhuman voice screamed amidst the noise:

"Avenge the boss! Burn this broken house down! This place must be a den of thieves who trade in human organs!"

The first thug appeared from under the neon lights, a burly and strong barbarian with a wolf-like mutated face, his eyes shining like two diamonds in the light.

"You pimps inside, come out and fight me one-on-one if you have any balls!"

The man held a huge chainsaw, the rough edge of the axe blade engraved with a terrifying skull rune. His axe had just been raised when it fell from his loose hand—the muffled challenge gradually turned into a gurgling sound of blood as a bullet entered the man's throat.

But as soon as this man died, his companions swarmed forward, and armored trucks sped over, followed by deafening gunfire.

Obviously, this club was not encountering this situation for the first time. The doors and windows all automatically lowered bulletproof panels, and hidden automatic turrets and armed servitors began to return fire, instantly turning it from an entertainment venue into a fortress.

Faced with the fierce counterattack, many gang thugs were directly blown to pieces, and even more trucks were blown into the sky by flying rockets, landing and burning fiercely.

For a time, the entire street was lively and bloody.

However, these attackers were not without preparation. They seemed to know the sturdiness of this place. While the front was fiercely exchanging fire, several sneaky figures quietly went around to the undefended side of the club, and then began to install some equipment.

Soon, accompanied by a crackling burst of sparks, the club's entire electrical system was overloaded, and all facilities and lights immediately dimmed.

"Kill! Kill in!!! Avenge the boss!"

Seeing that the opponent's defense system had failed, the thugs immediately became excited, howling and breaking through the doors and windows, rushing into the club, but they did not know what would greet them—

At the same time, even the street lights went out.

The first batch of thugs who rushed into the club's first floor lobby were soon surprised to find that it had long become a slaughterhouse. The people who should have been 'happy' inside were all lying on the ground in pieces, each of them disemboweled. Looking at the wounds, it seemed that extremely huge claws had torn them apart.

And what they didn't know was that in the darkness they couldn't see, one after another terrifying shapes rose up, the twisted faces under the deformed heads silently roaring, corrosive saliva dripping from their mouths. They were like sculptures in the dark, difficult to detect, difficult to discover, until the first scream sounded.