South Xiangshan Villas.An ultra-exclusive neighborhood where each mansion is spaced hundreds of meters apart, hidden behind forests and hills, selling for millions. A paradise for billionaires.
But tonight, billionaire Qian Jintong—one of Hong Kong's richest—was cursing the silence.
A killer had broken in. Not just into his house—but into the heart of his fortress.
"Help! Please! Don't kill me!"
Qian, half-bald and sweating, crawled across the polished rosewood floor, blood streaming from a stab wound in his thigh. His cries vanished into the air—his neighbors were too far, and the maid had gone home.
"Young man... Xiao Jun... I know I've wronged your mother, but I swear, she died from illness! I didn't kill her—I don't deserve to die!"
"I'll go to the police. Right now. Please, don't do this. I'll pay you—ten times what I took!"
Before him stood a teenage boy, sixteen or seventeen, face cold as winter frost, eyes clear, almost gentle. No rage. No twisted grin. Only silence. He could've been staring out a snowy window, admiring the dawn snowfall—if not for the blood-drenched knife in his hand.
The boy sighed. Not in anger—just weary.He stepped on Qian's wounded leg.
The scream was loud and raw.
Then he spoke, slowly:
"First. My mother died because of you. You embezzled the funds that kept her company alive. Her condition worsened, and she died shortly after."
He kicked Qian down again, pinned him with one knee."Second. The statute of limitations on your crimes passed fifteen years ago. I know. You came back to China because you knew you were legally untouchable."
The boy gripped Qian's neck with one hand, raised the knife with the other.
"Third. That's why… killing you isn't a crime."
He stabbed him in the throat. Then again, into the heart.Qian Jintong twitched, spasmed—and died.
Xiangshan Police Station, Beijing.
Officer An Wannian blinked at the teenager sitting in front of him. Slender, clean-cut, casual white clothing, and calm as a spring breeze.
"Yes?" An asked, polite.
"I'm here to turn myself in," the boy said.
"For… what?"
"Murder. I just killed someone. Premeditated. I figured it'd be faster if I came here myself."
An blinked again. "You're a high school student, aren't you? If this is some prank—"
"It's not." The boy placed a stack of photographs on the desk. Real, unedited photos—Qian's mutilated corpse on the polished floor.
An stood up so fast, his chair clattered backwards.
"Where did you get these?!"
"I took them," the boy said calmly. "After I killed him."
What followed was chaos.
They raided the mansion. CCTV was disabled but recovered. Fingerprints, DNA—all matched. The killer had turned himself in.
The name he gave: Mo Shijun.
"Name?"
"Mo Shijun. As in 'Ink,' 'Release,' and 'Monarch.'"
"Age?"
"Thirty."
"You what?"
"I'm thirty. Born in 1980. I just look sixteen."
They didn't believe him—until he pulled out an ID, and pointed them toward prison records in Lianwenshan, where he'd been incarcerated from age 15.
The system confirmed everything.
Convicted of murder in 1995. Sentence: life in prison.
Victim: Qian Jintong.
The very same man he had just killed—again.
"Wait... you were convicted of murdering Qian Jintong fifteen years ago?" Officer An's voice cracked.
"I planned it. Everything. The weapon, the timing, the disposal. But he escaped. And his wife framed me. I was sentenced anyway."
"…But then how did you kill him now?"
"Exactly," Mo Shijun said. "That's the question, isn't it?"
He smiled faintly. Not proud. Not bitter. Just... cold.
"You see, I already served a sentence for killing him. One crime, one punishment. Double jeopardy. The law can't punish me twice."
"I killed Qian Jintong.And I'm innocent."
One week later.
Mo Shijun walked alone along the riverside promenade, under a sky full of stars and silence.
He had killed the man who destroyed his mother.
He had used the law—its blind spots, its paradoxes—to do so without consequence.
It was everything he had imagined for fifteen years. The perfect revenge.
And yet… nothing.
No joy.No satisfaction.Just… emptiness.
The police had tried to fight his release. But he'd been prepared—press coverage, legal documents, online leaks. The public sympathized. The law was clear. He walked free.
But in those ten years, something had changed.
Ten years in ice.The memories came back like frostbite.
He'd been sentenced to life in prison at age fifteen. But barely six months in, he was selected for a secret government program—one that promised early release in exchange for participation.
The program? Cryogenic suspension.
A dying high-level official wanted to be frozen, to cheat death until medicine could catch up. But he wouldn't test it himself.
They needed volunteers.
Or test subjects.
Mo Shijun, with no family, no ties, and a healthy body, was perfect.
He agreed.The reward: early parole.The risk: unspoken.
He signed the papers. And then, he was frozen.
Supposedly, just for one year.
But the official died. Funding vanished. Scientists left.No one remembered him.
Ten years.He slept in cold darkness for a decade.
When a glitch finally thawed him out, only one subject survived.
Him.
But something inside him stayed frozen.
He didn't age. His body still looked sixteen.
And his heart—his emotions—were numb.Even revenge hadn't stirred him.
He could smile. Frown. Cry.
But never feel.
And every night since, he dreamt of nothing.No light. No sound. No warmth.
Just endless awareness in a frozen void.
It was the same dream, every night.
A nightmare with no shape and no end.
He turned the corner of the river path.
Headlights flared to life ahead.
A car. Engine roaring.
It sped toward him—straight at him.
An ambush.
He saw the driver's face reflected in the glass.Qian Tang.Qian Jintong's son.
"So, you came for revenge," Mo Shijun thought.
"I suppose that's fair."
But even as he thought it, he moved—forward, not back.Dodging the charge, rolling sideways at the last second.
Qian Tang overcorrected. The road was narrow and muddy.
His tires slipped.The car spun off the road.Into the river.
Mo Shijun stood at the edge, watching.
He didn't jump in.
Let the dead meet their own dead.
He turned away.
But then—a blast of blue light erupted from the river.
A geyser of water shot sky-high, lit by eerie azure flames.
Metal fragments rained down like knives.
And then, he saw it.
Rising from the water:A rider on a skeletal horse.Armor black as night. A greatsword wreathed in ice.A death knight.
Mo Shijun froze.
The figure stepped onto the water as if it were land.
"What… the hell…"
Before he could act, the voice came.
"You bastard! You killed my father! You made me use my Infinity Access this early! I'll kill you a thousand times!"
It was Qian Tang's voice.The knight vanished——then reappeared right in front of Mo Shijun.
The sword drove into his chest.
A shock of red and blue vapor sprayed from his lips.
Then—
White light.
Blinding.All-consuming.
And then—he vanished.
Back on the riverbank, Qian Tang screamed inside his undead armor.
"No! Why him?! Why was he chosen?!"
A shadow stepped from behind a tree. "What happened?"
Qian Tang spat. "That light. You know what it means."
The shadow nodded grimly. "He's been chosen by the Infinity System."
Qian Tang clenched his fists. "Then good. Let him enter. Let him think he's safe."
"I'll find him again. I'll kill him again.Again.And again."