Chapter 72: Predators on the Hunt! The Terrifying Chosen Ones!
When the slaughterhouse truck convoy arrived, many of the chosen ones couldn’t help but gulp nervously.
Just from looking down through the windows, they could sense an overwhelming aura of bloodlust radiating from these men.
They were like monstrous beasts shrouded in a dark cloud, their oppressive presence so intense it sent chills down the spines of even those watching through screens.
Especially the “animals” in the hospital ward—they were already trembling under their blankets, paralyzed with fear.
It’s said that butchers who frequently slaughter animals carry a unique kind of “killing intent.”
When they approach certain creatures, those animals instinctively react with panic and terror. Even the most ferocious beasts will tuck their tails between their legs, too afraid to resist.
When animals face the threat of death, their stress response becomes extreme.
At the sight of a butcher’s blade, they scream and struggle desperately.
Not only do they release pheromones associated with fear, but they also secrete hormones linked to terror.
Over time, butchers absorb these hormones, which is what gives them their so-called “killing aura.”
Animals, with their sensitive senses, can detect these hormonal traces and instinctively avoid such people.
In this bizarre world, the butchers’ killing intent was even more concentrated.
Even the chosen ones began to feel genuine fear.
Facing the security guards was like confronting a powerful reaper—but at least the reaper followed rules.
As long as you didn’t break their rules or appear in the hallways, the spectral guards wouldn’t bother you.
But the butchers were different. They weren’t bound by rules. They didn’t operate on logic, making them impossible to reason with.
Who in their right mind would provoke these terrifying beings?
So, after a single glance, most chosen ones decided to leave or carry on with their own tasks.
After all, the butchers were only after the so-called [ingredients]. What horrific fate awaited those ingredients wasn’t the chosen ones’ concern.
Only two individuals in the entire facility might have received the mission to kill the slaughterhouse supervisor.
One of them chose to ignore it, while the other went even further—he killed the NPC who issued the mission.
As a result, it seemed none of the chosen ones were willing to actively confront the butchers.
Mitarai Saburō couldn’t care less about this situation. Instead, he was gripped by a growing sense of dread.
Then, in the next second—a dog’s bark sent a cold sweat down his back.
A “patient” was howling like a dog while sprinting toward the hospital, as if trying to escape the butchers and seek help from the “doctors.”
He remembered Rule 8: “The hospital does not keep dogs. If you hear barking, do not make a sound—or you will be in danger.”
Mitarai had no intention of drawing attention, but the barking grew louder and closer.
It was heading straight for him.
Just my luck.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The real horror came when he saw several butchers chasing after the sound, entering the hospital.
“So this is why the dog barked… This is the trap!”
Mitarai realized that if he didn’t make a run for the director’s lounge now, things would go very wrong.
So he grabbed his assistant and bolted toward the elevator in the main building.
If he could reach it, he’d be safe.
Fueled by adrenaline and the energy from his meal, Mitarai sprinted at full speed.
But the barking only grew closer, as if the source was following him.
No matter how fast a human runs, they’re still just human. The thing chasing him had degenerated into a dog—and dogs are much faster.
Then came something even more terrifying.
Mitarai heard multiple footsteps closing in, along with the metallic scrape of chains dragging across the hallway—like a symphony of death.
His scalp prickled with terror.
“Why the hell is it chasing me? Go away!”
Three butchers were in pursuit.
The first was a boar-headed butcher. Though not the fastest runner, it wasn’t slow either. It fell behind only because it struggled with sharp turns.
But the other two butchers were downright horrifying.
A wolf-headed butcher and a leopard-headed butcher—both inhumanly fast, like gusts of wind.
In no time, they were right behind him.
Of course a wolf and leopard would be fast!
To make things worse, they began making sounds no human could produce, amplifying the horror.
Watching this, Sakura Country viewers were on the edge of their seats.
Many were convinced Mitarai Saburō was about to meet his end.
The nation’s most popular chosen one was now teetering on the brink of death.
The leopard-headed butcher moved like lightning, quickly pouncing on the howling patient and pinning him to the ground—like a wild predator taking down prey.
But the wolf-headed butcher locked eyes with Mitarai, its gaze burning with hunger.
“Premium-grade ingredients! Don’t run!”
It charged at him without hesitation.
In its eyes, Mitarai was nothing but high-quality meat.
What followed was a hospital-themed Speed & Fury.
Mitarai reached the elevator and frantically mashed the button.
But the doors opened too slowly.
The wolf-headed butcher was already upon him.
BAM!
Mitarai was tackled to the ground.
Just as the butcher’s claws were about to close around his throat—
Humans, when cornered, can unleash astonishing strength.
Mitarai, a former police captain, black belt in karate, and three-time martial arts champion, fought back with everything he had.
He kicked the butcher square between the legs, then twisted his body to throw it off.
The wolf-headed butcher staggered back, howling in pain—but it wasn’t enough to stop it.
Then, in a desperate move, Mitarai’s assistant rammed into the butcher with full force, knocking it off balance.
That brief moment was all Mitarai needed.
He scrambled into the elevator and slammed the close door button.
Every second counted.
As the doors began to shut, the assistant tried to follow—
But the wolf-headed butcher was already back on its feet, lunging forward.
It had no interest in the assistant. Its hunger was fixed solely on Mitarai, the “delicious ingredient.”
It was about to force its way inside.
Once in, nothing would stop it from carving Mitarai up.
In a split-second decision, Mitarai made his choice.
He kicked his assistant out of the elevator.
The assistant collided with the butcher, buying just enough time for the doors to seal shut.
The assistant’s fate was sealed—survival was nearly impossible.
But Mitarai had escaped.
Though the assistant had helped him countless times, even saving him at the last moment—
Though the memory of the assistant’s terrified, betrayed eyes would haunt him—
Mitarai had done what he had to.
From the start, he’d prepared for this.
The assistant was the only sacrifice he could afford to make.
Sakura Country viewers fell into a heavy silence.
Mitarai’s choice was ruthless.
But at least he survived.
Other chosen ones also suffered losses, sacrificing allies to stay alive.
The dog’s bark seemed to be this stage’s trap—avoiding it or retreating in time was key.
Meanwhile, in the Dragon Country chosen one’s scenario, another heart-pounding scene unfolded.
After catching the howling patient, the leopard-headed butcher noticed three security guards watching coldly from the sidelines.
It didn’t react much—but the wolf-headed butcher sniffed the air.
Its nostrils flared as it approached Zhang Yangqing, the man in the security uniform.
“Mmm… what delicious ingredients,” it growled, saliva dripping from its fangs.
Behind its gas mask, its breathing turned ragged with hunger.
Zhang Yangqing took a step forward, pressing his forehead against the wolf’s snarling muzzle.
With a look of utter disdain, he said:
“Who the hell are you calling ‘ingredients,’ mutt?”
The atmosphere instantly turned deadly.
Viewers worldwide knew—these three “security guards” might not be real guards.
But they were far more terrifying than the real ones.
On one side stood the monstrous beast-headed butchers, their killing aura suffocating.
On the other stood the blood-soaked “tour group,” fresh from a massacre, their own aura just as horrifying.
Two forces of pure violence were about to collide.
