National Forensic Doctor

Chapter 1367: Chapter 1292: Bloody Game (8)

"I think that house up ahead looks pretty good, let’s park in their yard," Kadar pointed to an estate in front.

It was considered a mansion, with a separate gate and a driveway leading in, three to four meters wide, practical yet not extravagant, similar to the colonial villas in the back from the Nanyang Colony, an unpretentious three stories, good-looking, practical, not complex; two men with guns could easily kill everyone inside.

Ismail, who had just started learning how to drive, turned clumsily and then stared at the house’s gate, "The gate is locked, right? Are there any cameras?"

"No cameras, I just checked. Their yard walls are high, and there’s barbed wire. It’s an old house without any surveillance cameras." Kadar said as he put on a baseball cap and took a crowbar from the back seat, "I’ll go down and pry the door open."

"Wait, what if there are cameras inside, at the front of the house or something?"

Kadar laughed, "It’s not that advanced. Even if there is, it won’t be connected to the police station, probably just linked to their own computer. Once we kill them, what difference does having surveillance footage on a computer make? Besides, it’s getting late."

Kadar looked up at the sky. The twilight was setting in, and visibility was decreasing quickly. In a little while, people inside would have to rely on lighting instead of natural light to see outside.

Ismail, not thinking too much about it, hesitated, "Uh... But how do you know their cameras aren’t connected to the police or a security company?"

"I don’t think they are. If you’re worried, we can catch someone and ask them. If they say it is, we just leave; if not, we’ll rest here for the night." Kadar said indifferently.

Ismail: "Actually, I think maybe we should just find a small motel or something to stay at. Do we really have to kill?"

"Staying at a motel is too easy to get caught. You haven’t read books. Many big thieves get caught at small motels. The people who run those places have sharp eyes, and the two of us are underage; we’ll be spotted too easily." Kadar finished and added, "We won’t lose anything by killing them. This family looks rich; they probably have a safe. We can grab some cash and gold, and once we reach a new country, it will give us a start. Besides, you’ve never had sex, right? Maybe they have a pretty daughter, and you can rape her."

Ismail, six feet tall, was flustered and quickly shook his head, "No, no, I like someone else."

"She doesn’t like you back," Kadar just said, seeing Ismail driving the car to the gate, then he tucked his gun in his back and stepped out of the car with a crowbar. noveldrama

The more people you kill, the bolder you become. As they say, money is the backbone of a hero, and killing and arson are the gold belt. Although young, Kadar was at his highest mental peak, afraid of nothing and feeling like every path was clear under his feet.

As for the house ahead, many of Ismail’s concerns were valid, but Kadar didn’t care.

He felt prepared for any situation: if they were spotted on surveillance or an alarm was triggered, they could run. If there were many people, they would use guns. But if all went smoothly, after they finished the job, not only would they get a good night’s sleep, but they’d also stash some resources, ensuring the true time to lay low would be once they reached the coastal city and were ready to find a ship.

Click, click...

With a few swift moves, Kadar pried open the gates of the estate with the crowbar.

"You can keep your money in the bank, but don’t entrust your life to others." Kadar hummed a tune, slung the crowbar over his shoulder, and opened the estate’s gate, his father’s words ringing unexpectedly in his mind.

Old Stewa wasn’t about morals, but he understood how to live.

While thinking, Kadar swaggered into the yard, humming his little battle tune through his nose.

Ismail shouted, "Get in the car," but Kadar ignored him, and Ismail didn’t dare shout again, so he drove after him.

The end of the driveway was a circle where vehicles could park or stop to drop off guests before leaving, an excellent choice for a party host.

This family’s circle was relatively tight, similar to their narrow road; both were entry-level rich products, meaning they likely wouldn’t spend much on security either.

Knock, knock, knock.

Kadar knocked on the door with no hesitation.

Ismail worked hard to adjust the car’s angle, parking in a position he thought he could easily drive out of, then tucked his gun away, grabbed his 50-centimeter Mad Dog Knife, and got out of the car.

The moment his hands left the steering wheel and gripped the knife handle, Ismail’s confidence began to soar.

Only those who frequently use knives to kill know that a 50-centimeter solid blade is overwhelming against ordinary, unarmed people. Even the term "unarmed" in itself highlights the issue.

While there may be some hesitation and timidity with the first kill, after multiple murders, Ismail’s courage had grown. He now relied less on handguns; within a few meters, he charged with a knife. Except for getting splattered with blood, the difficulty of killing was comparable to using a gun.

A strike with a 50-centimeter sharp blade would sever a hand blocking, break a waist running; ordinary people basically stood no chance. It’s even challenging to cause retaliatory injury.

Click.

The villa door opened.

"Who are you looking for?"

The door was opened by a woman in her forties. Naturally, she couldn’t think of words like murderer. She just frowned at the youthful Kadar, assuming he had come to the wrong place.