Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system

"I think your countdown is a bit wrong," someone interrupted, breaking the serious atmosphere.

The woman turned her helpless gaze toward the person who always found a way to pull her legs out from under her—yes, the same one who had turned on rock music.

"What's wrong?"

"There's only one bullet, and you haven't even started the game yet."

"Oh, right." It turned out this disruptor was correct. The woman coughed and fixed the issue. "The game is Russian roulette. One bullet in a revolver will decide the fate of the unlucky. If you don't act before I count to ten, my friend here will blow your head open. Either you pull the trigger yourself or confess. Don't bother lying—we can tell very easily. Many brave ones have tried their luck, to no avail."

She chuckled with an unsettling, sinister air. "Take turns pointing the muzzle at yourself. Let's see whose fate is stronger. Or," she added, her voice laced with mockery, "I can help cure your fear. You know what? I'll just shoot first. Let the rest be your luck." Continue your journey with My Virtual Library Empire

"You're a police officer. How could you do this? Don't you fear repercussions?"

"Repercussions?" the woman sneered, exchanging glances with her fellow sisters before bursting into laughter. "Why should we worry? We didn't do anything. The story will say our officers tried to rescue two hostages but were tragically shot dead by the suspect's revolver. When we found him, we salvaged his body from the pond.

"The suspect attempted suicide but was saved. He was willing to cooperate and confessed the reason for the killings. Somehow, that news got leaked."

The threat was naked, raw, and chilling. Officers nearby instinctively wanted to intervene but were immediately quelled by the commanding aura of Spirit Fox.

Some of the smarter and more pragmatic officers decided to watch silently, sensing the situation unfold. Even the murder suspect, who had all but given up hope, suddenly revived and voiced his agreement.

"Yes. When I knew I couldn't escape and in order to finish my vengeance, I shot those two scums in the head before trying to drown myself."

The officers' mouths twitched in disbelief. This wasn't an interrogation; it was a collaboration unfolding before their eyes.

What was Spirit Fox trying to do? Dangerous tasks were usually their domain, not investigations or interrogations.

Sure, a testimony from an intimidating Spirit Fox operator could be useful—provided no other witnesses stepped forward. But could the officers ignore such blatant tyranny?

No matter how much they despised criminals, their consciences weren't strong enough to turn a blind eye to this act.

Naturally, if Spirit Fox pulled strings behind the scenes and affected their careers, that would be a different story. But surely, Spirit Fox wouldn't stoop so low, right?

Weren't these operators supposed to be righteous? Or were the rumors of their uncontrollable violence and penchant for torture the truth instead of anonymous smears?

The same chilling thought gripped the two men being interrogated. Cold sweat drenched their backs as they realized these operators were bold enough to commit such acts in front of other police officers.

Still clinging to a sliver of hope, the two suspects tried to convince themselves that Spirit Fox was merely pretending to be fierce.

The female operator, still holding the revolver playfully, sneered as if reading their thoughts. "It seems someone doesn't believe I'll actually do this. Well, as the ruler of the game, I believe in fairness. Let's begin with my turn."

With that, she pointed the muzzle at her chin and pulled the trigger.

Click!

The sudden motion shocked everyone except her fellow Spirit Fox operatives. The bystanders flinched, their eyes wide in disbelief. The move was so quick they hadn't even had time to react.

The two suspects stared in horror, their reddened eyes bulging.

Crap. This woman was a lunatic with no regard for her own life.

It was terrifying to face ruthless people, but against someone willing to be ruthless to themselves? There was no cure for that.

This woman was serious. She had the guts to kill them, and if not for the information she wanted, they were certain they'd already be dead.

"Haha, it seems luck is on my side," the woman chuckled. "Now it's your turn. You can either talk before I count to zero or take your chances. There's only a 1-in-6 chance of the bullet being in the chamber."

"Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…"

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One…"

Click.

The man whose head had been under the barrel trembled, only relaxing once he realized he had survived. His heart raced, and he barely recovered from the sheer panic of staring death in the face.

The second man shivered as the woman calmly pressed the trigger without hesitation after her countdown.

"Now it's your turn. The odds are worse now—1 in 5. Let's see your luck. Ten… Nine…"

The revolver gleamed under the sunlight, its polished surface catching faint glints as the countdown echoed like a hammer on their nerves.

"Eight… Seven…"

The second man's hands shook as he stammered, "Wait! I—I'll talk! Just don't—"

"Five… Four…"

Her voice was sharp, cutting through his stammering like a blade.

"I mean it! I'll tell you everything! Just don't pull the trigger!" He was pleading now, his words spilling out in a desperate, clumsy rush.

The Spirit Fox operator paused her count, tilting her head. Her piercing gaze seemed to strip away every layer of falsehood.

"Speak," she demanded.

The man fumbled, pointing at his companion. "It was him! He started it! I—I didn't even want to hurt her. He forced me to go along with it!"

His companion's eyes widened in fury and fear. "You coward! Don't you dare—"

"Three."

The operator's voice interrupted again, cold and deliberate. She hadn't stopped spinning the revolver's cylinder, the sound of its clicks sending shivers down their spines.

"We were hired!" the second man blurted out, sweat dripping from his temples. "By someone high up! They didn't want her to talk—she knew too much about the gold mine deals. They just told us to scare her, but he…" He glanced at his companion. "He went too far! He—"

The other man clenched his fists, his face twisted in a mix of anger and terror. "Shut up! You think they'll let you live if you sell them out? We're dead either way!"

The female operator smirked, her eyes narrowing. "Ah, so you do know who's behind this."

The second man froze, realizing his mistake.

"Two."

The police officers, who had been held back by Spirit Fox's unyielding wall, now looked conflicted. The words spilling from the suspects' mouths were damning, but the methods used to extract them were equally unnerving. One officer muttered to a colleague, "They're not really going to shoot, right? This has to be a bluff…"

His colleague didn't respond, his eyes glued to the scene.

"Enough," a calm, commanding voice cut through the chaos.

All heads turned as an operator stepped out of the shadows, her presence as commanding as a storm. Dressed in attire similar to the others, which billowed slightly in the wind, she carried an aura of quiet menace. Her gaze swept over the suspects, the police, and finally her team.

She had been silent, observing the theatrics staged by the four earlier operators. Though her attire made her identity indistinct to outsiders, the rest of the operators knew her well.

"Stand down," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

The woman with the revolver sighed, flipping it in her hand and securing it back into its holster behind her back. "You always ruin the fun."

"This isn't about fun," the leader replied, her tone icy. She stepped closer to the two men, who now looked at her with equal parts fear and desperation. "Who hired you?"

Neither man spoke, their earlier courage replaced by trembling silence.

She crouched in front of them, her sharp eyes locking onto theirs. "I don't have time for games. You've seen what we're willing to do. Speak now, and I might consider making this quick."

The first man stammered, "It was… it was the son of the mine owner! He's the one who ordered it. Said she was digging too deep, causing trouble for the gold mine deals. He's dead now, killed by him… Please, we were just following orders! Arrest us."

The confession hung in the air like a bomb waiting to detonate.

The surrounding police officers exchanged uneasy glances. The corruption they had long suspected was now laid bare, but implicating someone as powerful as the chief's son was a dangerous move.

The operator stood, her expression unreadable. "Take them into custody," she instructed the nearest police officer.

"But—"

"No buts," she snapped, her gaze sharp enough to cut steel. "They're suspects in a major case now. If you can't handle that, I'll call someone who can."

The officer nodded reluctantly, gesturing for his team to move in. Meanwhile, the culprit, who had played Russian Roulette, strode away to her vehicle alongside her three partners.