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While all of that was the honest truth, however, I was more than capable of having my punch produce a loud sound—not through the strike itself, but from the moment my enemy\'s body ragdolled through the air, only to crash into whatever stood in its path.

Hilbert\'s body flew through the air, crashing into one of the many console tables filling the control room. He flew so quickly and struck the obstacle so hard that his flesh managed to leave a solid dent in the full-metal frame of the console—an indentation that perfectly matched the shape of those parts of his body that ended up hooking against the metal.

It was only during this crash that the black-knife-wielding assassin finally came to bear the weight of my punch.

After all, with the punch itself, the initial impact was limited by how little energy I needed to lift the soles of the man\'s feet off the ground. Then, all the energy I added with my fist on top only served to accelerate the assassin\'s body, ultimately producing the loud bang that nearly made the officers twitch and, in a moment of panic, start blasting.

"Haaa…" I properly breathed out, relaxing my body as the rebound of my strike went like a wave through my flesh, weakening with every inch it traveled, only to fully dissipate down to my hips, through my knees, and all the way to the ground, where I had to use a bit of my spirituality just to keep myself standing.

\'That was a solid one,\' I thought, more than able to judge the quality of my punch from how it felt sinking in, as opposed to gawking at its results like everyone else in the room did.

"Y-you…" Groaning in pain, the Cassandra Clan\'s hitman clawed at the edge of the metal box of the console table he crashed into, slowly pulling himself up while struggling to deal with the pain.

\'So that\'s his type,\' I thought, surprised by the unexpected… ease with which this fight came to an end.

Because, sure, while the man was still standing, with the protection of his black cloud gone and his body, even if only temporarily, too shaken to move properly…

What was to stop the officers from shooting him like a dog right at that moment?

"Well then, it\'s time to make your choice," I said, raising up from my slightly hunched, resting position following the punch. I turned my eyes to the assassin and squinted them as I smiled lightly. "Are you going to try to stand up and risk getting shot by all the respectable officers in the room, only to taste what my punch feels like when I actually infuse it with my Qi?"

I asked… and fell silent, simply staring at the man with a confident, slightly mocking smile.

At first, the assassin focused his attention on me, clearly waiting to hear what other option he had… only for his face to turn dark as he realized the dark-natured joke.

Because what other option did he have after the massacre he\'d committed?

It was one thing to kill people in combat, when both sides were aware of the risks and willing to take them, using violence simply as a means to solve a dispute that couldn\'t be resolved in any other, easier, or more efficient way.

I wasn\'t the kind of weak-blooded, naive idiot to believe—or to even claim—that violence should be avoided at all costs.

Pain was always a companion to all those who sought great heights, whether it was the pain of growing stronger, the pain of losing touch with one\'s loved ones… or the direct pain of having their insides squeezed together between their spine and someone\'s fist.

But this situation wasn\'t just a simple example of pain inflicted because there was no other, more efficient way of solving the issue.

No.

This man single-handedly inflicted grieving pain on the families of all those who worked in the power plant. He inflicted pain on all the citizens who would suddenly find themselves strapped for power. The patients in hospitals who would die because their equipment would suddenly turn off, with there not being enough charge in the network to keep it working and thus sustain their lives…

Even the pain of all the taxpayers\' money that would have to be used to rebuild this power plant…

This man, single-handedly and in a matter of minutes, brought enough pain to the world to effectively have his life forfeit on sight.

Just killing him, however, simply didn\'t sit right with me.

"Or, are you going to surrender and spend your life in misery after admitting to everything that you did?"

Finally, I revealed what I considered the second possible option for the man.

"Yeah, no fucking way," Dickins muttered, pulling out his handgun, flicking off the safety, and…

Unloading the entire magazine straight into the center of the man\'s body.

This was an emotional shot, a rage killing, rather than a calculated attempt at the man\'s life. And while no cultivator could ignore being shot, especially while still on a mortal level… the rage behind Dickins\' action affected his aim.

By some miracle, not a single bullet struck the assassin\'s head or heart, even though three of them appeared to have found their way to the man\'s chest, while two others struck him squarely in the leg.

\'If I\'m seeing this right… one of them struck the bone, chipped it, and then recoiled inside…\' I thought, only to then grit my teeth at the mere image of hundreds of bone splinters shooting all over the man\'s leg, pretty much permanently immobilizing him.

\'Still, when compared to what that man did…\'

"Fuck!"

A stronghold of cold-blooded rational thinking, Dickins suddenly turned all emotional, showcasing how he had merely held his emotions back, only for them to pour out once the situation appeared to be dealt with.

"Sir!"

Before I could even react, two officers jumped on their own boss, one grabbing his gun-wielding arm and holding it down while the other grabbed his other arm.

It was a hold designed not to hurt its recipient but to render him unable to interfere any further.

On the other side of the room, the rest of the officers formed a small circle, with every last one of them pointing their guns at the assassin as they slowly crept closer, tightening the circle until one of them could silently approach from behind with specially-made, extremely hefty-looking handcuffs.

"What\'s your choice going to be, then?" I asked, making sure to stay not only out of harm\'s way but also not to interfere with the officers as they approached their target.

Who knew? Maybe if I stood in their way, it would create an opening that the assassin, even in his current, extremely wounded state, could exploit to escape.

"Are you going to die like a dog? Or are you brave enough to face the consequences of all the killing you did here?"

At this point, I was simply gloating.

And I had all the reasons to do it.

With this matter dealt with, this whole attempt to render my factory useless was now over. The Cassandra clan\'s patriarch would have a hard time topping this with something even worse.

"Now, can any of you lend me your phone?" I asked, raising my face and then looking around, only to lock my eyes on one of the officers who wasn\'t participating in the slow and complicated process of capturing the suspect.

"A phone? What do you need—"

"Tim!"

Before the policeman could finish his question, Claire suddenly appeared in the doorway with a look of panic on her face and in her eyes.

Stepping into the control room, she scanned the scene for half a second, her face growing whiter and whiter until her gaze locked onto me.

"Tim!" she screamed from the bottom of her heart, rushing forward so fast that some of the officers turned their guns in her direction, likely fearing the worst…

Only for her to crash into me, pushing me back against one of the nearby consoles as she wrapped her hands around my back, literally locking me in place.

"Now, this doesn\'t look any good…"

Following her, Chihiro appeared in the same doorway she\'d come from.

Contrary to his daughter, he showed no panic or agitation, calmly taking in the bloody sights, only to then lock his eyes on the circle of officers and the now even more panicked assassin in its center.

"It seems like I came a bit too late, didn\'t I?"