In the square of Mining Town, following the officer's command and under the "mayor's" instructions, more and more refugees were being summoned. They were divided into groups and began systematic searches.
Meanwhile…
In the pitch-black alleys, a short and plump shadow moved like a cat, silently leaping between crumbling buildings.
The shadow was wrapped in thick clothing from head to toe, leaving only the eyes exposed.
On its back was a huge backpack, bulging as if filled with many things. Just looking at it, one could tell it was heavy—but surprisingly, it didn't seem to slow the figure down.
Whoosh—
Amid the howling wind, the shadow finally reached one of the most intact buildings in town. With hands and feet, it climbed up a drainpipe.
Reaching the second floor, it carefully pushed open a window that hadn't been sealed.
With a nimble motion, it vaulted inside.
Thud. The boots, hardened from running across the frozen wasteland, landed on the wooden floor with a muffled sound.
Snowflakes blew in through the window. Inside, the fire in the stove flickered in the cold draft.
The room wasn't large, but it was surprisingly "well-kept."
About ten square meters: a wooden bed with a messy quilt—its owner had clearly left in a hurry.
Beside the bed, a worn wooden desk with scattered odds and ends: a notebook, a fountain pen, and an unlit kerosene lamp.
The notebook was filled with sloppy work-hour records. Clearly, this was the bedroom of Mining Town's leader—the mayor, and the Flame Company's local agent.
The shadow glanced past the notebook and scanned the rest of the room.
A burning stove, a washstand, and a wardrobe.
Safe enough.
The shadow relaxed slightly, but then—
Grrrlleee…
From under the layers of clothing came the loud protest of a hungry stomach.
Thud. Gently placing the backpack on the floor, the figure dropped to the ground and slid half its body under the bed.
As expected—boxes and sacks were hidden there, stocked with food.
"Cured meat, dried vegetables, mutant potatoes, liquor… even canned goods!"
As the supplies were pulled out, the figure's breathing grew heavier. When it found a tin can, its eyes nearly glowed red with greed.
Its vigilance dropped.
But at that moment, it felt something hard press against its back.
"Don't move."
A young voice spoke.
!!!
Someone's here?!
Who? How?!
It had checked carefully just moments ago—
Every hair on its body stood on end, as though doused in ice water.
"Hands up. Step back. Don't do anything rash, or else…" The voice was calm, unhurried.
The shadow hesitated, then slowly raised its hands, retreating step by step as though it had accepted defeat.
But in the next instant, its body coiled like a spring and released!
A sharp kick knocked the "weapon" flying. At the same time, both wrists twisted—
Shhk!Shhk!
Two gleaming blades flashed into its hands. Crossing its arms, it lunged with ferocity toward Lin Tuo!
Danger!
Inside the room, Lin Tuo's eyes narrowed sharply.
In a blink, two blades sliced toward his face!
His instincts screamed. His body moved almost on its own—sliding sideways just in time.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The knives brushed past his cheek, close enough to raise a cold sweat.
Before he could counter, the shadow grabbed the large backpack and twisted its body again, springing toward the window like a released coil.
A feint!
That attack was never meant to kill—only to push him back and buy time to escape!
"You're not getting away."
Ether surged through his body. Muscles tightened, cells awakened.
Stepping back, Lin Tuo exploded forward, using the footwork of his family's martial arts to cut the distance. His hand became a talon, clamping onto the shadow's ankle.
"Get back here!"
With a violent tug, he yanked the figure—half its body already out the window—back inside.
His knee shot upward—
Thud!
It slammed into the figure's abdomen.
A muffled groan escaped. Sweat beaded across its forehead. The body curled like a boiled shrimp, writhing in pain.
The blow was devastating.
Lin Tuo instantly realized he might have overdone it. For an ordinary person, that strike could rupture organs.
But this one was tougher than expected. Though clearly in pain, rolling on the floor, the injuries didn't seem fatal.
Clang. Lin Tuo kicked the short blades away, then grabbed a coil of hemp rope. With quick knots, he bound hands and feet.
"Don't move, and don't shout. If you draw them here, I won't save you."
Tightening the last knot, he shut the window and turned back. To his surprise, the figure really stayed silent, enduring the pain with nothing more than harsh, hissing breaths.
Lin Tuo hesitated, then reached out to check the injury—only for the captive to thrash violently.
"Don't touch me!"
The voice was sharp, young, and unmistakably feminine.
"…A girl?"
Stunned, Lin Tuo pulled off her hat, face mask, and snow goggles.
Under the firelight, a delicate, pale face appeared—young, refined, still carrying traces of childishness. No older than fifteen or sixteen.
Sweating, trembling, in pain—but glaring at him with fierce, unyielding eyes.
Lin Tuo froze. He had thought this fugitive must be some hardened criminal—after all, two military trucks had been sent to catch her, and her earlier attack had proven her dangerous.
This was not what he expected at all.
Yet seeing that her injuries weren't life-threatening, he composed himself, masked his surprise, and said flatly:
"Looks like you're my prisoner now."
The girl, though clearly hurting, maintained her defiance, eyeing him warily.
"You're… not with them?"
His clothing, his presence—he was clearly different from the soldiers.
More than that, in her eyes, this mysterious young man didn't even belong in this world. Unlike anyone she had ever seen.
"What do you think?" Lin Tuo exhaled, picked up the steel pipe she had kicked away, dragged over a chair, and sat down casually.
"If I had a gun, do you really think you'd have had any chance to resist?"
Her hostility softened slightly, but suspicion remained.
"Then who are you? From the Eastern Old Zone? A wasteland hunter? Or maybe one of Greymountain Group's thugs?"
What kind of names are these… Lin Tuo muttered inwardly. Outwardly, he leaned back, crossed his legs, and said coolly:
"You should worry less about who I am. You're my captive now. That means I ask, you answer."
He asked his first question: "Your name?"
Silence.
The girl bit her lip, turning her head away.
"Your name?" Lin Tuo repeated. Then, with a flick of the steel pipe, hooked something from her collar—a necklace.
"Ah! What are you doing?!" She recoiled, only to groan as the motion worsened her pain.
Ignoring her, Lin Tuo pulled the necklace free. It wasn't jewelry, but an identity tag.
A brass pendant, etched with crossed swords, and the words "Doomsday Floaters."
On the reverse was a code, and a name that did not belong to the wasteland:
"Hua Xi? That's your name?"
The girl said nothing, turning her head away again.
So it was.
Lin Tuo studied the pendant, still warm from her skin, and pressed on:
"What's Doomsday Floaters? A faction? Sounds like it. Those other names you mentioned—Greymountain Group, Eastern Old Zone—they must be factions too? And those soldiers chasing you, who do they belong to?
"Tch. Don't tell me I've stumbled into some kind of turf war between wasteland factions…"
As he rambled, Hua Xi's eyes grew more and more puzzled.
His words didn't sound like lies. And in her current state, she could hardly call his bluff.
But how could anyone not know these names?
The Eastern Old Zone was small, sure—but Greymountain and Doomsday Floaters? Impossible not to know.
Yet this man had overwhelming strength and skill—he had crushed her in combat.
But his combat experience was clearly lacking. That was the only reason she had almost escaped.
So strong… but inexperienced.
And his youthful face bore none of the savagery or cruelty of wasteland folk. Even trying to look stern, he seemed calm, almost gentle.
Strange. Incomprehensible.
And—was this how you interrogate a prisoner?!
She wasn't answering. Shouldn't he be torturing her? Breaking her bones? Heating the iron rod in the fire and pressing it against her skin?
Instead, he was happily analyzing the situation out loud, like he was talking to himself.
Do you even know how to interrogate someone?! Should I teach you?!
In that small upstairs room of Mining Town, bound "duck-style" on the floor, Hua Xi's young mind suffered a profound cultural shock from this "outsider."
(End of Chapter)