What in the—?
A swarm of question marks popped into the tracker's mind. He pulled out his phone, sent a WeChat message, and then walked in casually, as if simply browsing. He spent fifteen yuan for an entry card and pushed open the dressing room door.
A blast of hot, humid steam hit him in the face.
Among several rows of lockers, naked men were walking around, changing clothes, but Huai Shi was nowhere to be seen. All he managed to catch was the rubber curtain leading to the bathing area fluttering slightly—someone had already gone through.
Suppressing his confusion and anxiety, he feigned nonchalance as he opened a locker, stripped off his clothes, and headed toward the bathing area.
When he pulled back the rubber curtain, he saw a teenage boy with a dull expression, fully clothed from head to toe.
He stood there, dumbfounded.
What the heck?
"Why are you following me?" Huai Shi asked directly.
"...What did you say?"
The muscular man's face twitched. He quickly adopted a look of utter confusion, as if he didn't understand at all. Waving his hand impatiently, he said, "Can you move?"
"Sorry, no." Huai Shi sighed, then stepped forward.
BANG!
The tracker's vision went dark. Only then did he hear the heavy thud of a fist smashing into his face. His feet slipped, and he fell backward onto the ground.
"I'm asking you—"
Huai Shi knelt beside him, looking down at his face, and repeated his earlier question, "Why are you following me?"
"Fuck…"
The burly man erupted in anger. He lifted his arm to slap Huai Shi, but as soon as he moved, his vision went dark again.
Huai Shi threw another punch with all his might.
BANG!
Amidst the startled stares of the men in the changing room, Huai Shi grabbed his hair, yanked his head up, and dragged him deeper into the dressing room, brutally smashing his head against a locker.
Once, twice, three times!
A huge dent appeared in the thin metal locker. The man struggled fiercely, but he couldn't break free from Huai Shi's grip.
For the last time, Huai Shi asked, "—Why are you following me?!"
"Go fuck your mother!"
In excruciating pain, the tracker cursed, desperately kicking his legs at Huai Shi. Ignoring his tearing hair, he seized the moment Huai Shi's grip loosened and scrambled up from the ground.
He didn't retaliate, instead bolting straight for the dressing room exit.
BANG! The cheap plywood door shattered. The long spring from the broken doorknob lashed out, leaving a bloody gash on his body.
He nearly slammed into the counter.
Amidst the counter attendant's shocked cries, he grabbed several bath baskets from the counter and hurled them at the teenage boy chasing him. Then, without even a towel, he burst out of the bathhouse entrance, sprinting with all his might.
Huai Shi gave chase. The tables had turned; the hunted had become the hunter.
Now, it was the tracker—butt-naked and shoeless—tearing down the street, with Huai Shi hot on his heels.
He ignored the strange sensation and pain of his bare feet on the pavement, pushing on through the screams of passing women like a wild dog off its leash.
Whether he'd sacrificed his dignity for a burst of strength or found liberation under the gaze of dozens of phone cameras, the man somehow sped up again. Huai Shi struggled to catch him for a while.
He finally ran out of steam and was cornered by Huai Shi in an alley. Gasping for air, he shuffled backward until he realized there was no escape.
"Why are you following me?"
Huai Shi stood at the alley entrance, calmly regarding him. "Are you going to make this easy, or do I have to find the answer myself?"
"I don't know..."
The naked tracker leaned against the wall, gasping, "I... I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Seems like you've chosen the second option."
Huai Shi paused for a moment, then looked up at him. "Honestly, I didn't want to do this."
Suddenly, the sharp CRACK of bones echoed from the alley.
Then, the tracker saw a shadow loom rapidly before him. As a pair of worn leather shoes stomped down, the alley's cobblestones sank, squeezing out foul-smelling sewage. Huai Shi was right in front of him.
BANG!
The tracker doubled over, feeling as if his lungs were about to be expelled from his mouth. His bare feet nearly lifted off the ground, and the arms he'd raised to defend himself were violently knocked aside.
Before he could regain his balance, the descending fist became an open palm, shoving his face backward, further backward, until... BANG! His head slammed against the wall.
He instinctively tried to curl up, but a sudden chill shot through his groin as a foot connected hard between his legs, accompanied by a whistling sound.
A strangled cry tore from his throat. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.
"Go to hell!"
His face contorted in agony, he dodged, grabbed a discarded bottle, smashed it, and lunged at Huai Shi's neck with the jagged edge.
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.