But a sharp pain shot through his wrist. His arm twisted at an unnatural angle, and the broken bottle plunged into his own thigh. Blood gushed out like a fountain.
Then, the searing pain from his broken arm and slashed thigh fully registered.
He screamed in terror as a hand clamped around his neck, lifted him, and slammed him against the wall. Huai Shi stared at the man's twisted face and roared, "—Why are you following me?!"
Silence descended abruptly.
The man abruptly stopped struggling. He looked at Huai Shi's furious expression as if witnessing something hilarious, and a laugh escaped him.
A smile twisted his convulsing face, its meaning ambiguous—mockery or a desperate attempt to placate.
His lips trembled, struggling to form words as if confessing. "I just... wanted some money..."
Huai Shi fell silent. He glanced at his own suit—cuffs fraying, seams on his old leather shoes splitting—and tried to believe the man. But in the end, he couldn't help but lower his gaze.
Slowly, Huai Shi relaxed his grip. The man slumped to the ground, gasping, coughing violently, and convulsing in pain.
"Alright."
Huai Shi suddenly said, "I'll give you money."
Just as the man looked up, stunned, Huai Shi reached out, clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, and poured the valuable Apocalypse down his throat.
As Huai Shi pinched the man's nose shut, a muffled, blood-curdling scream tore from his clamped mouth. The man began to convulse violently, thrashing on the ground regardless of his injuries.
An indescribable fear and Sorrow flooded his being, tormenting his Soul. Guttural, blurred sounds gurgled in his throat, but Huai Shi kept his mouth sealed, stifling them.
Only when Huai Shi heard the sudden screech of tires at the alley's entrance did he react. A van had pulled up, and several masked men jumped out, blocking the way.
Their hands were thrust into bulging pockets in their coats. They remained silent, their malevolent gazes fixed on the teenager in the alley.
In the silence, Huai Shi finally released the tracker. He slowly turned his head to face the menacing newcomers, at last understanding why the man had led him here.
"It's him!"
As the tracker, still convulsing on the ground, raised a trembling hand to point at Huai Shi, the foremost man reached into his coat. He withdrew a machete with a dark green cord wrapped around its handle. Then, the glint of other restricted blades appeared.
Huai Shi looked taken aback, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
"Isn't anyone going to explain?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Like, how it's perfectly reasonable for auto repair shop employees to carry restricted blades?"
A strange, guttural chuckle came from behind him.
"Someone... paid good money... to buy... your life..." Between wracking coughs, the man on the ground struggled to prop himself up on one arm. A cold smirk twisted his features. "Be smart about this. Don't struggle... it'll be too ugly..."
Huai Shi remained silent. He raised his foot and stomped down hard on the man's head.
BANG!
The man collapsed, motionless.
Huai Shi turned back to the approaching men and sighed. "So, there's no peaceful way out of this, is there?"
No one responded.
In the dead silence, Huai Shi raised his hands and unbuttoned his coat. He took off the suit he'd worn for years, folded it neatly, and carefully placed it on a relatively clean spot on the naked man's body.
Finally, he stood up, bent down, and bowed.
His demeanor was sincere and humble.
"I'm sorry," he said. "A friend of mine passed away. I'm grieving."
"..."
For a moment, the men stared, bewildered. They almost laughed.
But then, they saw the young man slowly raise his head. He looked at them, his face devoid of expression. "So," he said, "if I do anything inappropriate later, please accept my apologies in advance—"
As he spoke, he slowly raised his hands, settling into a fighting stance before his chest.
He offered his enemies the last shred of pity in his heart.
—Rome Dagger Boxing Technique Level 6!
.
.
"It's still so deserted here." The Teenage Girl in the wheelchair sat before the desk, surveying her surroundings. "And it seems to have gotten even bigger."
This was the Xinhai City Library. To be precise, its underground storage warehouse. Under the monotonous glare of cold fluorescent lights, colossal shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, disappearing into the darkness.
It held backups of every periodical, newspaper, official announcement, and administrative regulation published in Xinhai City over the past sixty years—in short, everything that had been printed on paper.
Even digital copies were stored in the adjacent server room, ready for retrieval at any moment.
While this was one of the city library's responsibilities, the sheer scale of the collection was thanks to the man behind the desk: the current librarian of Xinhai City, a Sublimator known as the 'Professor.'
He was indeed worthy of the title 'Professor'; the man had accumulated so many degrees he'd lost count. After all, his greatest hobby was to hole up and read in this vast, subterranean warehouse, refusing to budge.