Lust System: Conquering the World Beauties

Chapter 198: Chapter 198 COD

Liam pushed open the large double doors and stepped into the factory. The sound hit him immediately—a loud, relentless blend of machinery grinding, metal clanging, and bottles clinking as they moved along an automated line. The noise was deafening, explaining why none of the men outside had heard the brutal fight that had just taken place. Nor did they hear the doors open.

The space was massive, industrial lights hung from the ceiling, flickering now and then. The whole place reeked of chemicals and fermented alcohol. It didn’t take long for Liam to piece it together. This place was a drink factory. But something felt off. The sheer number of workers, the silence on their faces despite the noise, the uniformity in their movements—none of it sat right with him. He crouched behind a stack of wooden crates, adjusting the black scarf covering the lower half of his face. Tight. Secure.

His body was still aching, the toll from the fight outside evident. But his regeneration had already kicked in. The deep bruises on his ribs were fading, the cuts on his arms sealing themselves slowly. Each breath became easier than the last.

He scanned the factory floor. Dozens of men worked like machines, moving crates, checking labels, packing bottles. But despite the chaos, Liam’s eyes picked out one person he never thought he’d find in such a position.

Jack.

There he was, the cocky bastard, lugging a crate across the floor, his back drenched in sweat. Liam blinked. He expected Jack to be somewhere safe, under heavy surveillance. Not here. Not laboring like some factory drone. What the hell was going on?

He narrowed his eyes, watching Jack carry the crate into a far corner of the factory, disappearing behind a wall of barrels stacked two stories high. Liam moved.

With one leap, he landed on the catwalks above, using the thin metal beams to silently move across the factory ceiling. Below him, the workers never looked up. Their attention was locked into their tasks like they were hypnotized or trained to never break focus. Liam dropped down behind the barrels with a soft thud, just in time to see Jack setting the crate down and wiping sweat from his face.

”Hey,” Liam said, tapping Jack on the shoulder.

Jack turned slowly.

His face went pale. He looked into the eyes of a man with a scarf hiding the lower half of his face and menace burning behind his gaze.

”W-Who are you?” Jack stammered.

Liam tilted his head, his voice low and chilling. ”Your doom.”

He moved instantly, throwing a brutal punch toward Jack’s face, one that could have broken his jaw clean in half—

But before his fist connected, something coiled around his wrist.

A sharp, burning sensation ran up his arm as whatever it was tightened violently. Chains. Barbed, razor-edged chains wrapped around his hand and wrist like a snake coiling around its prey. Liam tried to jerk back, but the chains yanked him off balance.

With one powerful pull, Liam was sent flying backward like a ragdoll. His body crashed into a stack of crates behind him. Wood shattered, glass cracked, and bottles of alcohol exploded around him.

Pain ripped through his side as he rolled across the floor. He stood, clutching his arm, and saw that a wide gash now stretched from his wrist to his elbow. Blood leaked from it, but his regeneration was already kicking in, the muscle stitching itself slowly.

He looked up.

Jack was no longer alone.

A man stood in front of him now. Middle-aged, thick, tall, covered in scars. His eyes were dark, dangerous, with a wildness Liam had only seen in real killers. From his back, deadly sharp chains slithered out like living creatures, each one dripping with what looked like poison.

The chains retracted slightly, spinning slowly around the man as if waiting for a signal to strike again.

”So,” the man said with a calm, cold tone. ”You must be the one.”

Liam clenched his jaw. ”Who the hell are you?”

”The uncle,” the man replied. ”Jack’s uncle. And also the reason you’re not leaving here alive.”

Liam looked past him to Jack, who stood trembling, hiding behind a stack of barrels. The coward didn’t even have the guts to face him.

Liam turned back to the uncle. ”You used to be something, huh? Let me guess. Ex-gang muscle? Retired war dog? Or just a psychopath who plays with chains?”

The man smiled. ”Does it matter?”

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

The chains shot toward Liam again, whistling through the air with deadly precision. Liam flipped sideways, narrowly avoiding them as they slammed into the crates behind him, slicing through wood like paper. He somersaulted and rolled into a crouch, coming up fast and charging forward.

The man redirected the chains, but Liam ducked low, sliding under them and launching a knee into the man’s stomach.

It connected.

But the bastard didn’t even flinch.

Liam’s eyes widened.

The man grabbed him by the neck and hurled him back again, slamming him into a metal wall. The sound rang through the factory like thunder. Some workers paused and glanced toward the noise, but none of them moved to intervene.

Liam spat blood, then grinned. ”Okay... I admit, you’re tough.”

The chains slithered around the man again, this time moving faster.

Liam took a deep breath. His body was healing, but the speed of the chains, the weight behind the hits, the sheer force—this guy wasn’t just muscle. He was an elite.

”Let’s see what you got,” Liam muttered.

The chains struck again, but Liam was ready this time. He activated Dragon Step.

In a blink, he disappeared.

The chains crashed into the ground where he had just been, tearing up the floor.

Liam reappeared behind the man, delivering a spinning heel kick to the back of his head. The man’s head snapped forward, but he didn’t fall. Liam moved again, bouncing between crates, using Dragon Step to confuse and harass his enemy.

But even with Dragon Step, the man was keeping up. The chains moved almost with a mind of their own, reacting quicker each time.

Liam knew he needed to do more than dodge.

He waited for a moment. Then, the next time the chains struck, he sprinted straight toward them. It was risky. Stupid, even.

But it worked.