Teresa Taylor had reached her breaking point. Her body blurred into motion.

Pow! Pow! Pow!

In less than thirty seconds, the gang lay sprawled unconscious on the floor, beaten and battered. Teresa stood over them, unfazed, letting out a disdainful huff.

"Mike Brown, tie them up! I'm going upstairs to take a look!" she instructed.

"Got it," he replied.

Not knowing if any of these men were the rumored underground ability user, Teresa hurried upstairs.

Floors one to twenty-one were deserted. On the twenty-second floor, beyond the reach of the purple mist, still no one.

Finally, as she reached the top two floors, she found clusters of bedraggled survivors.

They were shackled hand and foot, chained like livestock inside the rooms, unable to move. Most men were injured and in tatters, while the few women were stripped and covered in bruises.

Teresa's face darkened. It was all too clear what had happened here.

T-bag and his gang had enslaved everyone. Their reduced numbers of women were due to horrific abuse, their numbers dwindling from sheer brutality.

Teresa had encountered many gangs during this time—some even more vicious. But those groups never had so many captives. This was the first time Teresa had witnessed such a large number—well over one hundred.

Her teeth ground together, rage coursing through her veins. "Monsters! They deserve to die!"

Upon seeing Teresa in her police uniform, the imprisoned survivors grew agitated and hopeful.

"Is the government here to save us?"

"Officer, please save me! Save us!"

"Officer, capture Ma Shan-shi! Don't let him escape!"

After liberating them, many survivors wept tears of relief. The still-living clung to their loved ones, sobbing in each other's arms. Freed women cradled the heads of family members, wailing in grief and relief.

Some captives were too weak to even stand, their bodies wasted away. Others, their limbs deadened from prolonged restraint, needed amputation, but in these conditions, it was impossible. They could only await death.

The scene was chaotic.

Teresa recruited a few able-bodied individuals to call the rest of the survivors from below.

Her group had been trapped in low-rise buildings, and this was the first time they experienced the height, standing above the purple fog. They gazed at the vast sky, feeling their chests expand, mesmerized by the world around them.

Seeing T-Bag and his men, the freed captives could not contain their emotions, lashing out violently:

"You bastards killed my folks! Never thought you'd have your turn, huh?"

"Fucking T-Bag! You dared touch my wife, I'm gonna castrate you!"

"And you, Kim, we were good neighbors! How could you do this?"

"You took all our food, and my son starved to death! I'm gonna kill you!"

"A goddamn property manager, and you lock up the residents! What kind of justice is this?!"

Before long, T-Bag and his men lay bloody and unconscious.

Teresa watched in silence, not intervening as she let the survivors vent their rage.

Mike Brown shivered at the sight. "Isn't this a bit much?" he whispered.

Teresa knew this was vigilantism, an illegal act. But what choice did she have? Could she control this furious mob? No. Did she have a system in place to judge and imprison T-Bag and his men? Again, no.

"Desperate times call for harsh measures," she replied. "A life for a life."

Mike nodded nervously.

The survivors in Teresa's care breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Had they not been with such a strong and righteous ability user, their fate might not have fared much better than those they'd just liberated.

Once the catharsis subsided, the survivors grew quiet, resting from their exertion. After all, hunger and thirst sapped their strength, leaving them weak.

All eyes turned to Teresa, their hopes resting on her to lead them through this.

For Teresa, it was a headache. While she didn't worry about food—surely T-Bag's gang had stashed plenty—it was the logistics that annoyed her. Distributing supplies, tending to the sick, organizing everyone—all daunting tasks.

Just then, a middle-aged couple approached her with nervous smiles.

The man bowed slightly, introducing himself, "Officer, I'm Bush Brown, the senator of NY city and also the temporary manager of this community. This is my wife, Paz."

Community office staff? Teresa felt a small wave of relief and said promptly, "Mike, you and Mr. Brown organize a team to inventory and distribute the confiscated supplies."

Mike nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Bush's face lit up—a juicy benefit lay ahead! Paz's eyes glinted with ambition, even licking her lips unconsciously.

Some liberated survivors grumbled in discontent. Why should he handle the supplies? But none dared challenge Teresa's authority directly.

Bush Brown eagerly extended a hand to Mike Brown. "Let's work together, Mr. Mike Brown. You lead, I'll follow."

Mike shook his head awkwardly. "Ah, I'm just an ordinary guy. No need to call me anything special."

Privately dismissive, Bush outwardly maintained politeness. "No worries, no worries. Past identities mean little now."

Teresa glanced at Adam Pg; his condition was worsening. Dr. Dukly had bandaged him, but the dirty wound would likely get infected. Medicine was urgent.

Wasting no more time, Teresa turned to Bush Brown. "Mr. Mike Brown, one more thing."

Bush responded promptly, "Of course, Officer! Anything!"

"Call me Teresa Taylor, please. Earlier there were gunshots in this community. Any idea who it was?"

Bush hesitated, "I'm afraid we were locked up. I don't know."

Frowning, Teresa probed further. "Then who in the community might have abundant supplies?"

Bush nodded eagerly. "Well, there's this convenience store clerk—a real piece of work. Has loads of food and trades it for women. Despicable, really."

Recalling photos James Lone shared in group chats, Bush boiled with jealousy.

Paz chimed in, "Yeah! That scoundrel hoards women they called his 'slaves'! Eats meat and rice every day! If they have leftovers, they toss it. Shameless!"

Other survivors chimed in:

"Right, right! Those 'slaves' eat well!"

"'Slaves'? It's just James Lone! That brat used to work at our convenience store. Made hardly anything a month, and now he acts like he's hot stuff! Disgusting!"

"We don't even have bread, but I saw him eating hotpot in one of his videos when there was power!"

"Hotpot? He's got steak too!"

"James Lone hogs all that food and throws it out instead of helping us! Disgusting!"

"This is a crisis! Food belongs to all of us! Who is he to eat it all?"

"Such waste is criminal!"

They grumbled about James Lone in chorus.

Ignoring their jealousy, Teresa focused on gleaning useful information from their chatter.

Steak, hotpot, trading food for women? Throwing it away uneaten? Clearly, he wasn't lacking food.

In these times, who could be so abundant in supplies? Likely that very underground ability user.

With that power, he could gather food while others were too scared to move. He'd pillaged the nearest supermarkets, stocking up, therefore he wasted without worry.

Paz's phone still had power, and she showed Teresa the group's chat history.

Seeing the name "James Lone" and the lavish spreads of food and women in photos, Teresa was convinced.

It had to be him! James Lone was the underground ability user.

Though she frowned at his methods, using food to trade for women, Teresa noticed the women were healthy and not abused. Her disdain softened.

More than that, she thought, "James Lone might be a good person who has lost his way with newfound power. Perhaps I can guide him!"

She was determined to persuade him to join her effort, to help save more survivors and reach the TV station's aid point.