Apocalypse Forecast

Chapter 966 - 763: Never Speak with the Devil

For Ozaki Mitsuharu, it was another night that felt hauntingly familiar.

It began with anticipation, then gradually turned awkward in confusion, finally becoming wandering and miserable, welcoming the sunrise once more in disappointment and sorrow.

"You bastards, you tricked me too..."

In the empty garage, Ozaki Mitsuharu was smoking in solitude. He lifted his head, looked at the rising sun, and raised his arm to wipe the corner of his eye with force.

His eyes were almost wet.

In the silence, a returning subordinate hesitated, attempting to speak but stopping, lingering for a long time before fearfully stepping forward, "President..."

After a long time, Ozaki Mitsuharu finally turned his head.

"Hmm, speak."

The subordinate’s trembling hand handed over a mobile phone, which was showing a cable news channel reporting the morning news—a traffic accident occurred again in the suburbs last night. A tanker collision, the police department reminded all citizens to pay attention to traffic safety, and not to drive under the influence, one drink for the driver, two lines of tears for the family, and so on...

"What’s the meaning of showing me this?" Ozaki Mitsuharu asked faintly, "I never drink and drive, isn’t there a driver?"

"..."

Under the gaze of those eyes, the subordinate’s small hand trembled again, quivering as he held up a box.

"This, the Hybrid alliance just... delivered it."

Ozaki Mitsuharu casually gestured with his hand, "Open it and see, what’s inside, a bomb?"

After the box opened, it contained only a pile of fine powder, pale, mixed with grains of various sizes, along with remnants of charcoal ashes...

As if it were the ashes left after something burned to completion.

"They said, returning the property to the owner..."

Contrary to expectations of furious rage, Ozaki Mitsuharu stubbed out his cigarette and calmly asked, "So they all died?"

"Yes." The subordinate nodded.

Then there was the sound of gunfire, and he fell into a pool of blood.

"Then what’s the point of a useless person like you staying alive?"

Ozaki Mitsuharu lowered his head, staring into the lifeless eyes glazed over in the blood, "Keep you around this long, just to show me the news? What the hell have you been up to?"

He raised his hand, pulled the trigger, pulled the trigger again, and turned back to shout angrily at those dazed faces, "All turned mute?"

"Every single one of you waste to such a degree, turned to ashes, sent back by Tenmoku, and you all act like nothing happened!

"What have you been doing for so long? Passing the buck? Over a hundred and forty individuals! Even over a hundred pigs, Tenmoku couldn’t finish them in one night!"

The members knelt down in a pose of submission with their heads deeply lowered, touching the cold ground, even when the blood that flowed engulfed their foreheads.

"I’ve figured it out, the Iron King Party’s greatest threat, it’s not those hybrids, not those Italians and Russian Federation people, but right under my own ass!"

Ozaki shouted, "Where did the ones who swore they could take Tenmoku’s head this time go? Using the horse seal I begged for with all my dignity, just to waste it!

"If this kind of trash doesn’t die, should they be left as decorations?! But what about you, are you any different from those few useless ones that have died?

"And there’s someone telling me, to take over the Tanbo Inner Circle in two days, is it to die miserably enough for that old turtle Tenmoku to die laughing in the hospital?"

Amidst the furious roars, suddenly there was a ringing sound.

The phone was ringing.

The passionate chorus of a girl idol group echoed in the air, making the originally cold atmosphere also become tender.

Increasingly bizarre.

"Whose phone? Get out here!"

Ozaki Mitsuharu roared, eyes bloodshot, enraged, but then he reacted immediately, "Oh, it’s mine, never mind then..."

He bent down, pulled his phone from the dead subordinate’s pocket, looked at the caller ID, unknown number, and coldly answered, "Hello? Who? If it’s the guys from Tokyo Electric collecting TV fees, then they can prepare for a family extermination!"

Answering him was a deep voice with a strange accent.

"It’s me, ’Best friend’ Yevgeny—"

On the other end of the line, the Russian Federation Man seemed to take a deep breath, followed by a brief silence, and then let out a sigh that sounded both dazed and satisfied.

He exhaled.

He said, "We have a business deal, we can discuss."

Ozaki Mitsuharu’s eyes shifted, and his vicious expression gradually became meaningful, "The key lies in how you want to discuss it... ’Best friend’ sir."

"Someone will go to you for the discussion." ’Best friend’ said, "I’m just an introducer, you just need to host."

After he finished speaking, the call was hung up.

In the silence, he heard the voice behind him.

"Truly pitiful, shot seven or eight times, and still not completely dead—"

With an air of pity, he examined the twitching person in the pool of blood on the ground, the man who had suddenly appeared here was gazing down at those eyes filled with hope and desire, a half-smile on his face, uncertain if it was compassion or mockery.

Yet surprisingly, there was no sense of abruptness.

It was as if he had always been there, only they hadn’t noticed.

Black hair, black eyes, white skin.

A perpetual polite smile with a sense of distance, like a Roman, yet speaking fluent Yingzhou language as if he had grown up in Japan.

Wearing traditional Yingzhou-style robes.

After some commotion, in an instant, he was surrounded layer upon layer.