Chapter 228: White Cat’s Rent
Chapter 228: Chapter 228: White Cat’s Rent
Rhonda Dawson didn’t even bat an eyelid, ignoring her completely.
The healing halo only lasted for a few minutes before vanishing. Dylan Rhodes’s external injuries were fifty to sixty percent healed—at least enough for him to catch his breath.
But before Monica Bishop could sigh in relief, Miles Dawson rolled up his sleeves and charged forward again. He smashed a fist into Dylan’s stomach. "Damn it, heal him so I can beat him some more! I have to vent my anger today!"
Kevin Keane, Blake Blue, and the others didn’t stay idle either, stepping up to deliver a flurry of punches and kicks. This time, they were even more ruthless, deliberately targeting spots that caused excruciating pain without hitting vital organs.
The agony jolted Dylan awake from his unconscious state. He had barely opened his mouth to scream when a fist slammed into his face, forcing the shriek back down his throat. The blood spraying from his mouth was mixed with tiny fragments of his internal organs.
Just as Miles had proclaimed, they had literally beaten the crap out of him. They knocked him out, healed him, and beat him again once he woke up. This cycle repeated a few times until Dylan lacked even the strength to groan. Only then did Rhonda finally call for them to stop.
She stepped forward, the green light at her fingertips glowing once more. This time, she only repaired Dylan’s superficial wounds, making him look slightly less miserable. As for his internal injuries—the fractured ribs and damaged organs—she left them completely untreated. These injuries were enough to keep him bedridden for at least a month, and he would have to lean against the wall just to get out of bed.
Looking at the blood-stained ground, Monica’s stomach churned violently. She couldn’t help but retch. A large patch of her pant legs was wet; she had actually wet herself in sheer terror.
A foul stench of urine spread through the air. Luna Dawson frowned in disgust, just about to drag these two pieces of trash out and throw them away.
Right at that moment, a rhythmic KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK came from the courtyard gate, shattering the dead silence.
Lynn Shelby grabbed a stick and went to open the door. Standing outside was Finn Pierce, the man in charge of the Second District’s patrols, followed by two fully armed soldiers.
As soon as Finn entered, his pupils contracted in shock at the mess in the courtyard. The ground was covered in blood, and the heavy stench of gore nearly made him choke. He swallowed hard, looked at Luna, and asked cautiously, "Captain Dawson, what... what happened here?"
"It’s nothing," Luna replied with a breezy expression, as if the blood on the ground had absolutely nothing to do with her. "You came just at the right time, Captain Pierce. These two trespassed into our private residence, poured fake blood all over themselves to stage an injury, and tried to extort us. We saw right through their little scam."
Hearing this, Monica nearly passed out from sheer anger and opened her mouth to argue.
However, she was met with the collective, piercing glares of Miles, Kevin, and the rest of the team. The murderous intent in their eyes was so thick it was palpable, as if they were ready to tear her limb from limb in the very next second. Terrified, she shrank her neck back and swallowed the words that had reached the tip of her tongue, not daring to utter a single sound.
Who was Finn Pierce? He was as shrewd as they came. One glance at the situation and he understood perfectly. After all, he had seen this kind of scene countless times in the apocalypse. What extortion scam? It was obvious that these two blind fools had probably tried to stir up trouble using some distant familial ties, only to be taught a harsh lesson by the ruthless members of the Sunset Squad.
He recalled the rumors spreading like wildfire through the base over the past few days, claiming that everyone in the number one squad possessed terrifying strength and that Luna had a vicious temper. Today, he finally witnessed it with his own eyes. These two completely deserved it.
He wouldn’t dare offend the number one squad, especially since the base still had a pile of missions that relied on them. Turning to Monica, Finn spoke in a tone laced with a mix of advice and warning. "Ma’am, I suggest you leave immediately. Captain Dawson has never had a good temper. You’re already lucky enough to be walking out of here on your own two feet."
Monica looked at her unconscious son, then recalled the hellish scene from earlier. Seeing the soldiers standing firmly on Luna’s side, how could she dare harbor even a sliver of resentment? Surviving was what mattered! She scrambled over, practically crawling as she tried to prop Dylan up. But with her meager strength, how could she possibly drag a grown man?
Seeing this, Finn let out a sigh of relief. He raised a hand and signaled the soldiers behind him. "Go on, give her a hand. Drag him out."
The two soldiers immediately stepped forward, grabbing Dylan as easily as if they were lifting a baby chick. Monica hastily followed behind them, stumbling and crawling on her way out, terrified that if she delayed for even a second, she would lose her life.
Finn surveyed the messy courtyard. What a sin, daring to provoke the Sunset Squad. They were practically digging their own graves.
Luna dismissed her team back into the house and walked over to Finn, smiling as she thanked him. "Sorry for making you take a trip down here, Captain Pierce."
As she spoke, she flipped her wrist and retrieved a heavy box from her spatial storage.
Finn looked closely and saw over a dozen self-heating hotpots neatly arranged inside. Resting right on top were a few golden, vibrant pomelos. The fresh, fruity aroma mingled with the scent of the hotpot seasoning, wafting straight into his nose.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head!
In the apocalypse, self-heating hotpots were rare commodities, let alone fresh pomelos! The base had long since cut off its fruit supply; these things were now worth more than Crystal Cores!
He subconsciously swallowed hard. He thought frantically, "I want to eat that! I want to eat that!"
However, his usual professionalism and rationality told him he couldn’t take it. If someone reported him, his position as the Minister of Security for the Third District would likely be gone!
Finn waved his hands repeatedly, righteously refusing her offer. "Captain Dawson, I can’t accept this! Patrolling is my duty; I can’t take your things!"
Luna directly shoved the box into his arms, her eyes crinkling into a smile. "Don’t be so polite, Captain Pierce. These aren’t anything precious. The pomelos were grown using my Grandpa’s plant manipulation abilities, and the base is currently cultivating them in batches. It won’t be long before everyone can have all the pomelos they want. Just help us taste-test them. Consider it a token of gratitude for helping us keep an eye on the house for the past half-month."
Finn suddenly remembered that the leadership had indeed mentioned a key cultivation project by the Academy of Agricultural Sciences, supposedly spearheaded personally by Director Harry Palmer. Put like that, accepting these pomelos wouldn’t be considered a violation of the rules!
With his last shred of hesitation gone, his grip on the box tightened as a delighted smile spread across his face. "Then I won’t politely decline any further. Thank you, Captain Dawson. I hope our base can achieve pomelo freedom soon!"
"We definitely will."
Luna smiled brightly. Venting her frustrations today had felt incredibly satisfying. If it weren’t for the fact that they genuinely shared blood ties with Hector, she would have loved to throw those two pieces of human trash straight to the zombies.
Holding the box, Finn bid Luna farewell and walked away with a brisk, light step. The scent of the pomelos in his arms was too enticing; he had to hurry back and share the fresh treat with his team members.
Watching his retreating back, the corners of Luna’s lips curled up. She raised her eyes to scan the perimeter wall and spoke flatly, "Come out. You’ve been hiding for a while."
As soon as the words left her mouth, a white blur darted up the wall with a SWISH, crouching steadily on top of it.
It was the big White Cat from the cat café. Carrying a mutated fish in its mouth, it suddenly jerked its head back and tossed the fish into the courtyard with a loud THUD. Its movements were incredibly clean and agile.
Hearing the commotion, Little Tiger padded out of the house with a slow, leisurely cat walk. It went up to the fish, sniffed it, bobbed its little head, and let out a soft, sweet meow. "MEOW."
White Cat immediately lifted its chin, its whiskers perking up. It looked as arrogant and proud as could be, acting exactly as if it were taking credit.
But in the next second, a hoarse voice that sounded like an old chain-smoker hacking up phlegm erupted from it. "MEOW-AWR."
Little Tiger, who was in the middle of licking its paw, instantly froze. Its ears drooped in defeat. No matter how many hundreds of times it heard that broken voice, it still couldn’t get used to it.
Luna couldn’t hold back a laugh. With a simple thought, she stored the mutated fish on the ground directly into her spatial dimension. Turning her gaze back to the White Cat on the wall, she said, "Not bad, Old White. This week’s rent is fully paid."
This would be the perfect extra meal for Rollo and Little Tiger.