Captivated by the Ruler of the Underworld
Chapter 34 Give Me the Map

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice. The onlookers sighed in admiration at his lovely appearance while the boys' eyes filled with respect. The other militia members mocked him for overestimating himself.

Even Stan halted his footsteps, staring at Michael as he turned around. He was astonished, staring at the ten-year-old boy who slowly stood up. To his surprise, there was a breathtakingly beautiful boy he had overlooked.

He was stunned for a second, then burst into laughter. Setting Michael down, he walked towards Sylvester. As Stan approached, he realized that this kid was about the same height as him, despite having a muscular build. He thought to himself, ["It should be more fun to play with the little one later."]

"You say you're more skilled than him, but how old are you? What skills do you have?" Stan asked, intrigued as he looked at the handsome and exceptional boy in front of him. Stan considered where this child had come from. Pliar truly produced outstanding individuals, both women and children, all unbelievably good-looking.

Sylvester raised his lips, his eyes clear as water, but upon closer inspection, one could see the hidden ruthlessness within his clear gaze.

"You'll only know if you try." Sylvester turned around, pointing his hands bound by rope towards himself, tilting his head.

"Untie me, I'm uncomfortable with my hands bound, and you won't be comfortable either."

His tone was bold, his actions audacious.

Hearing such words coming from a ten-year-old boy's mouth, Stan found the child piquing his interest.

Yoko instinctively wanted to stop them, but he knew about Stan's explosive temper. However, he thought, what waves could a ten-year-old boy possibly create?

Stan untied the rope, grabbing Sylvester's hand with his fat, sturdy palms and led him into the wooden house.

A cold shiver ran down Sylvester's spine, but he endured it, keeping his head lowered as he followed Stan inside.

Michael, without thinking, ran over and called out, "Big brother."

Stan thought this boy was also quite good, and with his other hand, he tried to grab Michael, but was stopped in the next moment.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Sylvester said, "I won't be at my best if anyone else is in the room. It bothers me if there's another person."

Stan felt that this child was vying for affection and wanted to indulge him, so he pushed Michael away.

The moment they entered the wooden house, Sylvester peered out through the door and saw the bloodthirsty jealousy in Jonas's eyes, which mirrored the brightness of the fluorescent lights.

He smirked at the sight. Someone wasn't convinced by this big guy, so let them fight amongst themselves. How thrilling.

Stan had made his selection, and others began to take action as well. Young Sylvester knew he had to act swiftly.

Just as Stan lunged at him, Sylvester swiftly dodged to his side and drew out the knife at Stan's waist.

Stan was momentarily stunned.

In the blink of an eye, young Sylvester had severed the tendons in Stan's left hand, causing blood to spray out instantly. Stan cried out in pain.

Sylvester hurriedly covered Stan's mouth, muffling his screams.

Still, sounds leaked from the wooden house. The people outside thought it was just an intense "battle" inside and even made jokes.

"It seems that the little brat is quite capable, able to make Stan shout out."

"Haha, he makes me want to try him too. I wonder if Stan's novelty has worn off. Can he give us some fun?"

"Forget it, would Stan give us anything? We better choose what we like ourselves."

On the side, Jonas pursed his lips, gripping his hands tightly.

Stan this! Stan that! What is he even worth?

Although Jonas couldn't defeat Stan in a one-on-one fight, Stan wouldn't have gained any fame without him.

Seeing Jonas in a bad mood, a comrade patted him and said, "Jonas, don't think too much, let's wait a little longer."

Jonas held his breath and grabbed a boy directly on the ground.

...

Sylvester pressed the knife against Stan's neck, his voice emanating from the depths of hell, soft and slow, carrying a hint of ruthlessness. "Ah, ah! Don't scream. Give me the map of this area, and I'll let you go." Stan gasped for breath, wishing he could tear this kid to pieces or throw him into the pool to be chewed up by the crocodiles.

But with his left hand's tendons severed, a chilling knife against his neck, and a hand firmly holding him, he couldn't break free. His strength was the greatest among the entire self-defense army, but now he couldn't escape. This little brat had incredible strength. He looked to be no more than ten years old.

Looking at Stan's fierce appearance, Sylvester sneered. Raising his hand, the knife fiercely pierced Stan's Achilles tendon.

Blood sprayed onto Sylvester's face and body, darkening his complexion.

The smell of blood filled the entire wooden house, making Stan nauseous. He convulsed in pain, his whole body shaking.

"I've now cut the tendons in your hands and feet." Sylvester put the knife back against Stan's neck. His voice, previously so clear and youthful, sounded sinister and ghostly.

"Where should I try next? Your neck? They say that cutting the major artery will make blood spray up to the ceiling. Do you want to give it a try?"

He couldn't wait any longer; those children were still waiting for him.

Now Stan was truly scared, nodding with a sob. This little brat was like a demon crawling out of hell, sending shivers down his spine. But his mouth was covered, unable to make any sound. Cradling his severed arm, he tremblingly raised his other hand and pointed to a box under the bed.

Sylvester half-crouched, dragging Stan towards the bed, and with a sweep of his long legs, he hooked out the lockbox.

"Password."

"98543." Stan said, struggling and still muffled.

The boy opened it and flipped through it casually. It was indeed a large map, with dangerous areas like swamps and frequent beast sightings marked on it.

Little Sylvester put away the map, glanced at Stan, and raised his hand to fiercely stab his intact right hand into the wooden floor. "Ah!"

Stan's agonizing scream echoed into the night sky.

Little Sylvester held the map and took a gun and a knife from the room, keeping them in his pocket. Instead of breaking the window, he confidently walked out from the front door.

A group of people, prepared to break down the door upon hearing the furious roar from the room, saw this unbelievably handsome boy open the door himself.

His subordinates froze, unsure of what had happened inside.

Little Sylvester tugged at his clothes with both hands and said coldly, "It's done."

That's it? It's only been less than five minutes. Besides, nobody has ever walked out unscathed from Stan's wooden house.

"You can go in. He's in pretty bad shape, "Sylvester said, stepping aside and walking downstairs.

Shouldn't it have been the other way around?