Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 208 - 160: I’ve finished speaking. Who agrees and who opposes? (Adding 4 more for the alliance leader ’Post-80s Angler’)

Chapter 208: Chapter 160: I’ve finished speaking. Who agrees and who opposes? (Adding 4 more for the alliance leader ’Post-80s Angler’)

Past eight in the evening.

The decrepit Ancient Castle was brightly lit, while the campfires of the camp below were meager.

Brian idly fiddled with a large pile of nails in his hand.

These were provided free of charge by the Night Demon Organization for the refurbishment of their wooden huts, in addition to the nails there were some hammers, saws, and there was also an ammunition depot in case some Mutant Organization came sniffing around.

Knowing that he wasn’t allowed to shoot his comrades here, Brian lost all interest in even picking up a gun.

In his hand, nails were no worse than bullets.

This was rather underhanded.

Because with a nail, he could beat others down, but the moment someone fired a gun, it would be tantamount to breaking the rules and being eliminated.

Across the campfire.

Derek and Melita hesitated to speak.

They wanted to say they weren’t interested in the top three spots anymore, but they were afraid that opening their mouths would get them disqualified by the psycho opposite them.

The reason was simple.

Due to sheer boredom, the unlucky sod who had grappled with York earlier had caught Brian’s attention.

Just once, just one time.

The unlucky sod who could take on ten opponents bare-handed was knocked out by this bespectacled thug of a man with a punch and was still unconscious.

That strength and speed had definitely reached the limits of the human body!

They didn’t understand the purpose of Brian participating in this training camp at all.

Listening to the crackling of the burning wood, Derek took a deep breath, walked closer, and whispered, "So, Brian, are you a combat group member from the NW action department? I’ve heard your side is pretty dominant, dealing with those tricky Mutants directly with armed helicopters and missiles."

Brian shook his head, "As you can see from my get-up, I’m a logistics guy, actually, I’m an Autopsy Officer, in charge of autopsy work for the team. How about you?"

"I’m with the Commonwealth Navy, a gunner in charge of hunting Undersea Mutant Beasts," Derek said, nodding toward Melita beside him, "Melita is with MI6, responsible for intelligence work in the colonies. We’re actually not that good at combat."

Watching him beat around the bush, Melita pushed Derek aside and spoke directly, "What he means is, we’re just nobodies without much backing. The Night Demon’s outer camp here is really just a chance for the elites from other organizations to exchange for rare reagents and surgeries. If you eliminate everyone else, you probably won’t be able to handle their retaliation."

Derek nodded frantically, "Or let’s just forget about it. It’s tough for everyone to come here, kicking people out is just going to breed resentment."

Seeing the two retreat, Brian dismissively waved his hand, "I get it, if you’re not up for it, just stay out of the way when the time comes."

He wasn’t an idiot. How could he possibly knock everyone out of the competition?

That York was only targeted because he had a filthy mouth.

Later, making an example of one would suffice.

He wanted to see if those guys who were harassing Susan had as much tough talk in them!

...

At this moment, at Night Demon Headquarters.

Kanchef yawned and drank some coffee.

A colleague joked upon seeing this, "Manager Kanchef, it’s rare to see you working overtime today."

Kanchef looked at the monitoring video on the computer, setting down his coffee cup, "I just want to see what kind of trouble this Brian is going to stir up later."

The training camp is actually a kind of alternative reward, an avenue for maintaining a welfare exchange of goods with other allies for the Night Demon Organization; the barbaric rules set forth are meant to suppress the pride of these elites.

The emergency team was nearby, and even if someone got seriously injured, they could easily be saved, which is why the camp’s rules only prohibit firing guns and causing dismemberment injuries.

Fundamentally, the camp’s rules serve as a means of tempering growth for this group of elites.

Unless there were old grudges to begin with.

Otherwise, there were seldom occurrences of people being eliminated.

They were very curious about this arrogant fellow named Brian, who despite knowing his sponsor, Susan, had offended many, still dared to join this camp session, and they were even more curious about what might happen next.

With the surveillance room crew dying of boredom and rarely encountering something so interesting, they decided to open a betting pool.

Final call, no backing out.

The bookie, holding a notebook, came up to Kanchef, "Manager Kanchef, would you like to place a bet? Odds are 1 to 0.5 for Brian to be beaten up and kicked out of camp by the crowd, 1 to 0.9 for just getting beaten up... him beating up everyone, 1 to 1.5, and him having a go at the crowd and knocking out more than one person, 1 to 3..."

Kanchef pulled out a stack of pound notes directly, "I’ll make an individual bet. I wager Brian will intentionally pick out the guys who have a problem with Susan and forcefully take them down, then compel several other top performers to withdraw, taking charge of the camp’s Original Sect assignments on his own! 1 to 5, do you take it?"

"Kanchef, what you’re saying is outrageous. If it’s ten thousand pounds, I’ll take it!", his colleague thought Kanchef had gone mad.

That guy named Brian might have some skills, but when it really comes down to being ousted, those folks sure won’t play nice.

They would truly draw their guns!

"No problem, ten thousand pounds it is!"

As the first person duped by Brian, Kanchef clearly knew what kind of a character the man was.

The other party would not be so confident to claim ’Susan doesn’t misjudge people" unless they were sure of themselves.

Easy money, fifty thousand pounds, awesome!

...

It was just past nine in the evening.

Seven or eight cars appeared outside the secluded Ancient Castle in the countryside.

A bunch of people disembarked with subdued excitement, switched on their searchlights, and headed towards the Ancient Castle.

According to the current clues, the members of the Original Sect had disappeared around London after their base was raided, likely hiding in other districts.

Unfortunately, they were only temporary members of the camp and couldn’t leave London.

They could only watch helplessly as the Night Demon Organization’s members followed the leads and parted ways with them.

This also meant that they would have difficulty leveraging this mission to gain additional benefits from the Night Demon Organization.

For them, other than the top three spots in the camp, their spots were merely an opportunity to exchange for rare reagents.

Therefore, apart from the three confident individuals aspiring to be in the top three, the rest were not very enthusiastic.

Damn that Susan!

Passing through the familiar flowerbed area.

The person leading the group suddenly slowed down, "Why are there so many bonfires lit tonight in this loser’s gathering?"

"Maybe those four losers are celebrating because they are about to leave. For the next few days, I plan to just stay in the Ancient Castle. I’ve had enough of the crappy food and the isolation in this dump of a camp. I wish I’d never come!" the person nearby casually replied.

The people didn’t particularly care about the changes here.

With countless surveillance cameras scattered around, the Night Demon Organization would inform them in advance if there were any unusual situations.

Hence, they were not worried about any surprise attacks.

In over fifty years since the camp’s establishment, nothing like this had ever happened.

Aside from a true madman, no one would dare offend so many nations and organizations all at once.

As the group was about to enter the Ancient Castle after crossing the temporarily deserted and eerily quiet campsite illuminated only by bonfires, a tall figure suddenly emerged from the shadows and blocked their path.

...

Brian stood in front of everyone, giving a half-bow with gentlemanly grace, "I’m Brian, an employee of the Los Angeles NW Organization, joined the camp temporarily, I’ve got something to inform you all."

"NW Organization, isn’t that where that mother T-Rex Susan is from?"

"Interesting, as soon as mother T-Rex leaves, here comes a newcomer from their side, even cutting in line. What’s the deal?"

There was a buzz of conversation among the crowd, but no one stepped forward.

Everyone was no fool; they knew that if someone dared to block their way and talk about informing them, they were either insane, dumb, or a very capable individual. Nobody wanted to be the sacrificial lamb.

Seeing that no one was speaking up or cooperating,

Brian had to continue, "My purpose here is simple, to take first place, win the reward, and incidentally help my team leader Susan vent a little. So, for the next few days, please rest well in the Ancient Castle, and those who have previously crossed Susan - please make yourselves known and get the hell out of camp."

Having said that, Brian, ignoring the looks from others as if seeing a lunatic, casually tossed a nail in his hands, "I’ve said my piece. Who’s in favor and who’s opposed?"