Strongest Soldier King Chapter 668 668: The Great Riot Begins

alti had arrived, and the police officers saw that when the old man delivering the als began distributing the food, the prisoners stopped making trouble. They beca as obedient as good children, simply taking their al and walking away. However, the look in their eyes was chilling, as if they were staring at the dead, making the police feel extrely uneasy. Subconsciously, everyone sensed that sothing was about to happen and watched carefully. But to their relief, they found that the prisoners were very well-behaved, taking their als to their own rooms without running around aimlessly.

Luo Zheng's al was personally delivered by the old man. Luo Zheng politely said a few words and then had the man leave before he started to eat. After finishing this al, whether there would be any more food was uncertain, so he had to eat his fill. Ten minutes later, Luo Zheng had eaten and drunk his fill, rested for a while, and then ca out to the door with a wet towel in hand. Not far away, he nodded to Jeff, who was attentively observing. Understanding the signal, Jeff let out a cold laugh and suddenly extended his neck to howl loudly, "Aoooo—!"

All eyes turned toward Jeff, not out of curiosity, but filled with excitent. It was starting, finally about to begin. Nobody cared whether they would make it out alive. To put up a fierce struggle ant there was at least a glimr of hope. The responsible inmate imdiately removed the wires to create a short circuit.

With a burst of crackling noises, the short-circuited wires ignited into flas. The fire raced along the electrical lines like a mischievous child. Soon the prison was plunged into darkness, and nothing could be seen. The police officers were instantly alard, turning on their flashlights and inquiring about the situation. The warden also realized sothing was amiss and imdiately ordered the backup power to be turned on and the circuit breakers to be repaired.

However, while other parts of the prison could be powered, the internal wiring was completely destroyed. How could the lights be turned on? While all the officers were in a state of shock and anger, another long howl pierced the air, and they suddenly realized that it wasn't over. Their eyes wide, the officers watched as nurous n, holding ablaze blankets, rushed forward and threw them near the entrance.

The burning blankets brightened the surroundings, revealing the panic-stricken faces of the police. The inmates, hiding in the shadows, reveled in this scene. More prisoners excitedly carried their flaming blankets towards the prison, protected by barricades on the way. Once they were close enough, they threw the blankets near the iron gates of the corridor entrance, letting the blankets burn freely. When they saw the police shooting, they lay flat on the corridor floor, which had protective walls, effectively blocking the line of sight and rendering the bullets harmless.

Confronted with this sudden uprising, the police were thrown into chaos and dared not storm in to suppress the riot. Besides shooting, they had no better options. The prison was cast from steel; there wasn't much that could catch fire, and there weren't any fire hydrants installed, so there was no way to extinguish the fire. anwhile, more inmates, fueled by excitent, continued to bring flaming blankets closer. Using the walls for cover, they flung the blankets over once they were nearby.

The blankets blazed fiercely, and the flas rose high, heating the iron doors. Thick smoke billowed, forcing the nearby police to retreat and aim their guns. However, all the prisoners stayed hidden below the protective walls, holding steel pipes they had torn down, trained and experienced, knowing exactly what to do.

Luo Zheng approached the door, watching the scene coldly and then laughed. His gaze fell on the warden's face at the entrance of the prison. The warden noticed Luo Zheng as well, his expression dark with regret. If only he had known, he would have quelled the situation with an iron fist from the start and not been greedy for that little bit of money. Indeed, it seed retribution was swift.

"What exactly do you want?" the warden asked coldly, shouting at Luo Zheng. He was very clear that all this chaos was likely caused by this man. The prison had been incident-free for several months until this man arrived, and since then, he had never had peace. He hadn't expected the situation to escalate to such an extent that it was now uncontrollable. A group of inmates, their bestial nature unleashed, was unstoppable. If there was any possibility of control, it would have to be through the man before him.

"Freedom," Luo Zheng shouted back coldly, like a sage weathered by the ages, issuing a millennium of cries.

"Freedom—" Upon hearing Luo Zheng's roar, everyone beca frenzied and joined in with their own shouts. The sound echoed through the prison, lingering on and on.

"Roar, roar, roar!" Everyone continued to roar fiercely, bolstering each other's spirits, combat readiness blazing like a rainbow.

"Mad, they're all mad," the warden said, his face a ghastly pale, knowing there was no longer any room for maneuver. He shouted hysterically, "Fire, suppress them."

"Pop, pop, pop!" Countless police officers began firing, but everyone was hiding under the corridor protective walls, completely unscathed. Not only were bullets wasted, it completely ignited the prisoners' will to fight. The roar beca even louder, as if thousands of "Fierce Beasts" were howling, calling out, craving.

Special Agents or soldiers, in a way, couldn't be considered political prisoners; they were only so due to differing stances. From another point of view, these people are heroes in their own countries. As for political prisoners, it's just a matter of standpoint, not about committing a cri, but rather affecting the opponent's advance and career that lands them in prison.

Luo Zheng was leading these people in resistance against injustice, fighting for human rights, a natural right, with no psychological burden. Seeing more people risk throwing quilts onto the fire, creating billows of thick smoke, he smiled. The smoke had taken over the entrance, visibility was very low. Police bullets beca increasingly inaccurate; it was ti to attack. He then looked over to Jeff across from him.

"Awooo!" Jeff roared again, and upon hearing the call, everyone cautiously moved up along the wall of the courtyard, got near the entrance, and covered their faces with wet towels. They could vaguely see the police through the smoke, swiftly wielding their steel pipes to strike.

The steel pipe shot through the gaps in the iron door, whistling as it went, creating a buzzing sound. A scream rang out—soone was hit by the steel pipe, blood gushing out imdiately. The other police officers jumped in fright, retreating while firing wildly with no aim; but the prisoners, experienced as they were, dodged skillfully, hiding from the bullets. After one round of attack, they continued to ambush.

More steel pipes were thrown, hitting the police outside. Several of them fell instantly, blood spurting wildly. So with severe eye injuries writhed on the ground, howling in pain. The warden nearly got hit as well and quickly retreated. Seeing their warden retreat, the other police officers also withdrew down the stairs.

"Don't retreat, fire!" the warden bellowed in rage, but how could he stop the steel pipes coming directly at them? Those throwing the pipes were specially selected soldiers, skilled and accurate, targeting vital areas before quickly ducking for cover. The police were in the open, while the prisoners were hidden in the dark, holding the advantage.

"Thump!" A police officer's chest was pierced by a steel pipe, and blood drained out around the hollow steel, dripping steadily. The officer, pale-faced, looked at the warden before falling back stiffly, his eyes open in death.

"Quick, grenades, tear gas, fire!" The warden, his face a mask of horror as he watched the officer fall, realized he was in trouble and exploded in fury, loudly commanding his orders. The riot had reached a life-and-death juncture—either the prisoners would die, or the officers would; there was no turning back.