Dusk Palace, seventh floor.
Cries of agony from the injured and the smell of blood filled the seventh floor, where contractors were seated, each wrapped in bandages.
"Boss, when's dinner? I'm starving."
A legless contractor leaned against the wall, chewing on something unknown, his jaw muscles exceptionally developed likely from regular chewing.
"Soon, just wait."
A leader replied impatiently, surrounded by several other leaders engaged in a discussion.
"Boss, even if I die, let me die full."
The legless contractor muttered, silenced by his leader's glare.
Several leaders gathered around Yan Chen.
"The first wave of attacks successfully repelled. At our current rate of casualties, Apocalypse Paradise won't last ten days. If we launch this kind of offensive daily, in at most five days, our numbers will far exceed theirs, allowing us to counterattack..."
As Yan Chen spoke, he noticed the leaders staring directly at him.
"What?"
"Brother Yan Chen, your hand..."
