Turing's hand broke the back of the bureau chief lady's hand as he pinned it behind her, while his other hand tightly gripped her neck from behind, lifting her up as if she were a chick.
"What are you doing?! Put down the bureau chief!"
"Don't you know where you are? Madman!"
"Don't think you can get away with this!"
Instantly, several police chiefs surrounding them drew the pipes they had hidden on their persons, all pointing at the lone figure of Turing in the center, and the atmosphere instantly became tense—this terrifying scene was like when a blacksmith, in one go, plunges a heated iron block into cold water, the fierce red light piercing through the swirling steam, scaring people to shiver.
"Get lost."
Turing scanned the surroundings with cold eyes.
Majestic waves of magical power, like towering mountains, pressed down fiercely from above the heavens in an instant, shattering space, reversing black and white, and the nearest magician to Turing was instantly overwhelmed by an exaggerated dizziness, his psychological defenses shattered, liver and gallbladder ruptured, falling to his knees.
The others fared no better—all of them struggled, some unable to even raise the pipes in their hands; some felt a burning sensation in their eyes just from staring directly at Turing, causing them to blink incessantly; and there were even those who fainted on the spot while standing.
Watching their colleagues foaming at the mouth on the ground, the policemen present, who had been goofing around moments before, had completely lost their previous jovial demeanor and now all wore grave expressions, cold sweat streaming down as they stared fixedly at Turing, who seemed like a god of death descending among mortals.
But no matter what, they were still police officers after all, setting aside their helplessness, their mental fortitude held up—even at this moment, none of them made a run for it, but continued to confront Turing, the devil incarnate, with wands raised.
Some more astute ones had even started to use communication devices like phones to call for backup.
"Wait...don't move."
The bureau chief lady suddenly changed her tone, her body nearly shattered, and she forced a smile through the pain.
"Apologies, I didn't realize your esteemed presence here."
"You, over there, be smart...quick, hang up that phone."
The woman, with her face turning red from Turing's vice-like grip, barely clinging to life, still maintained the strength to negotiate.
"Listen to me, I really didn't know that Curseborn was someone you favored. If I knew, would I dare to touch her so casually?"
"So, tell me your address, and I will personally bring ten times the amount of Curseborn to apologize at your doorstep another day!"
"...Curseborn?"
From Turing's eyes blazed a soul that was both captivating and terrifying, as if wielding a seductive sickle and donning chains of iron and blood, ready to bestow equal death upon all who dared to come close.
"I have what I wanted from Curseborn, I don't need your trouble."
"One last chance, tell me where that girl went, or I will twist off your head."
"Wait! I'll talk, I'll talk!"
The bureau chief's slick face started to panic.
"Our special agent Mira brought Curseborn in, exchanged greetings with me, and then took her straight to the clubhouse!"
"Which club? What club is holding Curseborn?" Turing asked back.
"I really can't say about this..."
"If you're curious, you can ask those nobles and aristocrats..."
"All I can say is that this is led by Lord George, involving the interests of many noble families..."
"Anyway, it's really not a small matter!"
"I'm just following orders."
"...Following orders, very well."
"How about doing me a favor in return."
"I implore you, do not die easily amidst my torment."
With a look of horror from the chief, Turing hesitated not, placing both hands on her skull.
"Aside!"
