The Clown's Soul Moves What do you fill this bun with

Fortunately, the door remained closed.

However, the clown pressed against the door, listened to the commotion inside, and knocked a few times.

Still, no response.

Just as the clown was about to continue, he noticed the steel pipe in Liu Yuan's hand.

The clown, with a white-patterned face, grinned and said, "Don't get excited! With what's inside, we don't have to fear that person surnamed Lu!"

Liu Yuan sighed, covering her forehead. "Have you ever thought that you might face a mixed doubles situation?"

"No way! Because they—hee hee!"

"It's complicated!"

As he spoke, the clown's eyeballs rolled, and both thumbs on his hands bent and pressed together, making a series of movements.

The next moment, before Liu Yuan and the others could react, the clown dashed away like a streak of smoke towards the three underground levels.

However, when he reached the large iron door, he realized it was securely locked.

Above Liu Yuan and the others, Lu Yuan held a syringe and stood there. No one noticed when he appeared, and—

The syringe in Lu Yuan's hand was empty.

At the sight of Lu Yuan, clang!

The zombie Liu Yuan was leading instantly transformed from a docile cat into a mouse seeing a cat. It broke free from Liu Yuan's hand, dragging the iron chain, and ran downstairs at a speed no less than the clown.

Only the water flow slowly gathered into a human form and slightly bowed to Lu Yuan. "Dr. Lu!"

Lu Yuan looked at this humanoid water flow with some surprise and said, "Your elemental ability is indeed powerful; it can passively strengthen itself."

The voice of the humanoid water flow was filled with loneliness and solitude. "The stronger this ability becomes, the less likely I am to return to being human."

Lu Yuan apologized, "I still need a bit more time."

"Dr. Lu, no need to apologize. You don't owe me anything. Heard someone disturbed you? I'll go deal with them for you."

"That would be helpful."

Lu Yuan smiled and then shouted downstairs, "Didn't expect it's your turn to come out and play this time. Here's a shot of adrenaline; enjoy yourself!"

After saying that, he turned and left.

At this moment, the clown, who had run to the third-floor iron door, suddenly felt... even more excited.

After Lu Yuan left, the clown almost leaped up the stairs, reaching the clinic's first-floor corridor in three steps. With a forceful sprint, he slid and rushed into the reception hall, almost stumbling several times.

At this time, although the rain outside was not as heavy as before, it was still falling.

Wearing a casual suit, the clown danced into the rain with a red rose in his mouth, as if there was a real dance partner in his arms. His lively steps splashed water droplets, turning the empty square into his solo stage.

When Liu Yuan led the zombie and the humanoid water flow to the reception hall, the rain in the sky completely stopped.

The clown's dance also halted.

He bent over towards the direction of Lu Yuan's resting room and gave a deep bow.

...

On the southern outskirts of Yun City, a convoy of armored vehicles, painted in camouflage, raced from the highway towards the city area.

Each vehicle in this convoy was covered in defensive armor, with thick plates bearing extensive battle scars of varying depths.

Clearly, this armored convoy hadn't had an easy journey.

Soon, the convoy entered the southern suburbs of Yun City, where makeshift shops and vendors gradually appeared along the roadside.

On the armored vehicle in the middle of the convoy, a rugged man with three gold stars embroidered on his shoulder picked up a walkie-talkie and asked, "I'm Wolfhead. Wolf Eye, where is the location where Drone Three went offline?"

"Wolfhead, the location where Drone Three went offline is in the northeast direction from our current position, belonging to the eastern suburbs of this small city."

"Send the coordinates to the lead vehicle."

"Roger."

"Lead vehicle, proceed according to the target coordinates sent by Wolf Eye."

"Lead vehicle received. Wolfhead, should we find a place to eat first? The guys have been through a lot overnight, and just drinking cold water with dry rations won't cut it."

"Agreed."

The convoy reached an intersection, and the lead vehicle turned into the eastern suburbs of Yun City.

Not far along the road, they spotted a breakfast stall opened by the roadside, with stacks of steaming steamers indicating it had just opened after the rain stopped.

Without hesitation, the lead vehicle parked in front of the breakfast stall.

Subsequently, two fully armed mercenaries got off each vehicle, one standing guard beside the vehicle, and the other responsible for buying breakfast for the occupants.

Six mercenaries, exhaling steam, entered the breakfast stall. The stall had a distinctive name: Old Wang's Buns.

The leader, a burly man with a fierce scar on his face, asked the elderly man busy in the stall, "Old man! What do you have to eat?!"

The elderly man glanced at the six mercenaries approaching, then looked at the row of armored vehicles parked by the roadside, grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth, and said, "It rained heavily this morning, so we haven't made much else. Right now, we only have meat buns and porridge..."

The scar-faced mercenary looked up at the steaming buns on the hot trays and said boldly, "How many meat buns do you have? We'll take them all!"

The elderly man's eyes lit up with joy, and he hurriedly said, "Meat buns are two dollars each. There are twelve trays in total, ten buns per tray, making a total of one hundred and twenty buns!"

The scar-faced mercenary nodded, "Hmm! Are they all cooked? If they are, pack them all up!"

The elderly man opened the steamer and poked a bun with chopsticks, "They're cooked! I'll pack them up for you right away!"

It took the elderly man quite some time to pack up all one hundred and twenty buns.

"That will be two hundred and forty dollars in total. How will you be paying?"

The scar-faced mercenary smiled and said, "How will I be paying? I need to taste these buns first, see if they're any good."

With that, the mercenary took out his pistol, chambered a round with a click!

"Hmph! Old man, let me tell you, if these buns taste good, that's fine. But if they don't, I'll pay you with bullets for these buns!"

Saying that, the mercenary pressed the barrel of his pistol against the old man's forehead.

The old man was utterly terrified in an instant, his previously wrinkled face, filled with smiles, now twisted in fear.

"Hero! Please, I beg you! My bones are worth just over two hundred bucks, it's not worth it, I swear!"

"I won't take your money, I won't! Please don't kill me!"

The scar-faced mercenary gazed at the old man's desperate pleas, a look of boundless arrogance gleaming in his eyes.

In the bustling metropolis, he was merely a dog under the feet of the powerful.

But in this remote backwater, he was a god who held sway over life and death.

The drastic shift in status brought an intense thrill to the scar-faced mercenary. Behind him, the other five mercenaries wore expressions of pure amusement.

For them, such deeds were as routine as breathing.

After all, they could kill and walk away, never to return to this obscure little town again.

Who would bother seeking trouble in the capital for the sake of an old man selling buns?

Amidst the old man's incessant pleas, the scar-faced mercenary picked up a bun and took a bite.

Another mercenary held up a bag of buns and chuckled, "Scar, how's the taste? Is it any good?"

The scar-faced mercenary chewed the bun with a methodical slowness that belied his rugged appearance.

He wasn't genuinely savoring the bun's flavor; he merely wanted to prolong the sensation of controlling others' lives.

Watching the old man trembling in fear, listening to his pleading voice, the scar-faced mercenary felt his own existence ascend to new heights in that moment.

The feeling of wielding power over life and death was truly sublime!

Suddenly, the expression on the scar-faced mercenary's face changed drastically!

He looked down at the bun in his hand and urgently asked the old man, "Old man! What meat is in this bun?!"

"Please, please don't kill me..."

The old man trembled as he finished his sentence, then looked up at the scar-faced mercenary, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.

A deeply unsettling smile crept onto his wrinkled, aged face. In the dimly lit roadside stall, the old man's voice rang out leisurely.

"Heh heh, hero, this bun is made of human flesh..."