Lin Feng felt like a sugarcane that had been squeezed dry.
His stomach roared a protest, reminding him it was time to refuel.
"Five hundred yuan—must go full premium."
He snatched his phone and, with practiced fingers, opened the wallet page of the buddy-playing app to withdraw the fee from Yao Yue's order.
But instead of a deposit notification, a cold red system alert filled the screen.
[Dear user "Fengshen," due to a large number of reports against your account within a short time for "verbal assault" and "malicious harassment,"]
[your account has been permanently banned. All unsettled earnings have been frozen.]
Frozen.
Permanently banned.
The five hundred yuan he'd earned from sleepless grinding—gone.
He sighed, swung his legs out of bed, and scratched at his nest of hair.
Out the door, to the convenience store, to buy a cup of old-pickled-cabbage instant noodles.
No sausage today.
…
Night pressed down. The alley beside the aging apartment block was long and narrow; the single streetlamp flickered with poor contact, slicing shadows into ghostly shards.
Lin Feng walked with his hands in his pockets, head down. Tonight the lane felt too quiet.
The stray cats that usually treated him as a walking pantry were nowhere to be seen.
The air carried a cold metallic tang, not the usual reek of trash.
He had the prickling sensation of being watched by a viper from behind.
His steps halted.
The breath behind him vanished in an instant.
He smirked at himself and kept walking.
Tap.
Tap.
The slow, steady footsteps resumed—matching his rhythm exactly, as if his own shadow had grown legs and was mocking him.
Gooseflesh rose on Lin Feng's neck.
He snapped into a narrower dead-end, pressing his back flat against the cold brick.
Before he could steady himself, the only light at the mouth of the alley was blotted out by a tall silhouette.
The man wore a black trench coat, his posture immaculate, his face lost in shadow.
Only one low, emotionless question cut through the quiet:
"Fengshen?"
A chill shot from the base of Lin Feng's spine to the crown of his head.
That ID—apart from the recently banned buddy-play app—he'd never used it anywhere else!
The girl he'd reduced to tears that afternoon?
No way. Were kids these days so spiteful they'd come gank you in real life?
"Big bro," Lin Feng cleared his throat, forcing his voice steady, "the cosplay convention's two streets over—left turn. You're in the wrong scene; there's more crowd and noise that way."
The black-clad man—Black Sha, a low-level killer of the Demon Sect—didn't answer.
Lin Feng had rehearsed dozens of possible reactions in his head: the attacker begging on his knees, bolting in panic, wetting himself in terror.
He hadn't expected the target to start a conversation about cosplay.
What kind of new mortal mind-bending technique was this?
Black Sha's patience thinned. He decided to crush this ignorant ant with absolute force.
He moved.
No warning.
One moment he stood at the mouth of the alley; the next, the streetlight snapped bright and the shadow was pressed right up against Lin Feng's face.
Cold murderous intent slammed into him.
Black Sha didn't strike immediately. He raised a hand and pressed it against the brick at Lin Feng's side.
Thunk.
A dull, bone-deep sound.
The solid wall yielded—a grotesque fist-sized dent formed, brick dust scattering in the air like choking smoke.
Lin Feng froze.
This wasn't a movie effect.
Not a trick.
This was real.
This man could kill a cow with a single punch. Against him, Lin Feng might be ended by a mere exhale.
"You'd better wait!" In the instant Black Sha's hand reached for his throat, Lin Feng blurted out.
"Before I die—can I ask a question?"
Black Sha blinked at the absurdity. An ant would ask questions before being squashed?
Summoning every ounce of courage, Lin Feng spat out the question that had looped in his brain.
"Do you…does your Demon Sect…hire?"
"Do you provide the five social insurances and a housing fund? Are weekends off? Do overtime hours come with compensatory time or triple pay?"
Black Sha: "…"
This mortal—was his brain broken?
That microsecond—less than a blink—was all the opening Lin Feng needed.
His right hand, still clutching the tissue-wrapped object in his pocket, moved.
The thing he had scorned as an earthy lump—the "Nine-Turn Golden Pill," that gaudy mythical prize—was in his palm.
Money was useless if you were dead.
Eat it.
He had to eat it.
Before Black Sha's hand closed again, Lin Feng yanked the pellet from his pocket and—without even a chew—thrust it into his mouth and swallowed.
The rough texture scraped his throat; a strong, earthy stench flooded his nostrils.
This could be the fake pill with heavy metals—if so, dying here of poisoning would be an ignoble end.
Black Sha stared, stunned too.
He watched as his quarry, at the brink of death, pulled an unknown object from his pocket and swallowed it.
Suicide? Unlikely.
What was that?
One second.
Two seconds.
The alley remained deathly quiet. Lin Feng stood dazed; Black Sha still poised to strike.
Awkward.
Was it truly just a clay pellet?
Lin Feng's heart sank.
System, you've conned me!
Then, at the instant that thought flickered—BOOM!!!
An indescribable heat detonated in his stomach, as if a sun had exploded inside him.
This was no warmth but a volcanic inferno erupting through his guts—molten rivers tearing through organs, trying to burn him alive from the inside out!
"Ugh—ah—!" A guttural cry ripped from Lin Feng's throat as his body folded like a boiled shrimp, great beads of sweat coursing down his face.
Agony—searing, bone-shredding—tore through him, as if innumerable red-hot blades churned and sliced every inch of flesh and bone.
He felt he would be torn apart by the force.
Black Sha's contempt transmuted to wary alarm.
What sort of technique was this? A self-harm cultivation secret?
Whatever it was, it had to be ended—now.
His fingers became a claw, the air screaming as they lunged for Lin Feng's crown.
But before his hand could touch hair—
An even wilder wave of heat burst outward from Lin Feng's center, detonating with unstoppable force!
The searing heat raging through Lin Feng's body was not an attack but a shield.
Black Sha's claw strike, meant to end him instantly, was shoved back half a foot by the invisible wave.
His eyes widened.
This mortal had been hiding his power!
But at the storm's center, Lin Feng felt nothing of the sort. The heat was tearing through him, melting his bones, and yet—astonishingly—his body was adapting, absorbing the force at an impossible speed.
The true danger lay deeper.
Gululululu—!
A thunderous rumble, not from the heavens but from his gut, erupted like an earthquake.
That "clay pellet" he had swallowed released its initial blaze… then transformed into a high-powered blender, churning his insides into a catastrophic tsunami.
The raging torrent plunged downward, gathering into a mudslide that charged toward the single outlet that must never be opened.
Lin Feng's face flushed red, drained white, then settled into a terrifying purplish hue.
His legs locked together, his torso twisted like a rope.
It was coming out.
He would rather die under this black-clad freak's fist than, in his final moments, star in a "human fountain" spectacle.
Human dignity demanded otherwise!
In that split second, the corner of his eye caught the dead end's salvation: a flickering yellow light, and the unmistakable smell of disinfectant—public restroom!
His only Jerusalem.
"Bro! Timeout!" Lin Feng squeezed out a warped smile at the bewildered killer.
Then, in a motion defying anatomy, thighs clamped tight, he shot off like lightning, leaving only an afterimage.
"You dare run?"
Black Sha's killing intent had crystallized; no games now. His form blurred, ghostlike, claws sweeping straight for Lin Feng's back.
Cold wind grazed Lin Feng's neck. Survival instinct wrung every last drop of strength from him.
Bang!
He crashed through the restroom door, slamming the thin iron sheet shut with desperate force.
Clack!
The latch dropped at the exact instant Black Sha's fist landed.
BOOM!
The flimsy door caved with a grotesque dent, the frame groaning in protest.
Lin Feng pressed against the cold metal, feeling the terrifying strength ripple through. Three seconds—that was all the door would last.
And inside his body, the flood had reached the gates.
"Open up! Die!" Black Sha snarled, powering his second punch. Wind whistled through the cracks.
It was now.
The pressure from within and without shattered his final defenses.
He would strike.
He would… explode.
Pffffffffffttttt—!!!!!
Like a high-pressure valve torn open by an axe, the restroom detonated with sound.
Then came the roar—like ten thousand cavalry storming a bridge, like Niagara plunging from the heavens.
Through every gap in the door, a gas beyond human description surged outward.
No mere stench.
It invaded Black Sha's nostrils with tyrannical force, shot to his skull, scrambled his mind.
Black Sha—the professional, the cold-blooded, the Demon Sect killer who could eat noodles in a sea of corpses froze mid-strike.
His expression shifted from cold, to confused, to iron-blue, until it curdled green.
His stomach churned violently.
What…what kind of venomous forbidden technique was this?!
[Ding! Environmental damage detected! Target "Black Sha" emotional fluctuation—Defense-Break value +100!]
[Ding! Olfactory critical hit! Target "Black Sha" mental balance shattered—Defense-Break value +200!]
Inside the stall, Lin Feng collapsed on the toilet, soul nearly drained.
Oily, foul black sludge seeped from every pore, coating his skin.
"System… damn you…" he cursed weakly in his mind. "This is your mythical reward? You call this 'Marrow-Cleansing Rebirth'?!"
No—this was turning him into a biological reactor, dumping nuclear waste.
But cursing aside, he could feel it. With every impurity purged, power awoke in his flesh and bones.
His five senses sharpened. He could hear Black Sha's ragged breathing outside, and the blood rushing through his own veins.
His body—light as air.His strength—unprecedented.
The pain was real, but so was the effect.
A bold thought surged.
BANG!!
The restroom door burst outward with a kick!
From the cramped space, the "ultimate weapon" condensed nearly into liquid sprayed forth—splattering Black Sha's face full-on.
His mind went blank for half a second.
Every sense drowned in the stench.
Now!
Lin Feng darted from behind the door, mop in hand—snatched from the corner, dripping with unholy liquid.
"Big bro! Dangerous job, no health insurance, right?"
Trash talk and action, perfectly synchronized.
Black Sha reeled from the olfactory nuke, only to be struck with this soul-piercing question.
He tried to counter—but Lin Feng's speed was beyond mortal.
"You're young! Why waste it on killing? Take my advice—civil service exams are still open!"
Before the words finished, Lin Feng was in close. The mop shaft, foul and slick, slid at a devilish angle beneath Black Sha's feet.
"Crawl for me!"
Balance lost, his body toppled. Lin Feng's boosted strength sealed the outcome.
Thunk!
Black Sha's skull cracked against the porcelain urinals.
His eyes rolled up. With humiliation, despair, and the lingering curse of "five social insurances and one housing fund," the assassin blacked out.
The alley fell silent once more.
Lin Feng, clothes in tatters, stinking beyond words, mop still in hand, exhaled a heavy breath over his fallen foe.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host! Absolute counter-kill achieved! Target "Black Sha" fully broken! Total Defense-Break value: 2000!]
Lin Feng glanced at his hands, then the unconscious assassin, and finally realized—
Something inside him had truly changed.
Dragging Black Sha by the ankles, he hauled him out of the toxic restroom.