Chapter 1: Entries
Darkness enveloped Xu Jason's vision, and pain surged through every part of his body. He knew he was being brutally beaten.
The pain was excruciating! Just moments ago, he had been watching a Marvel movie, where Stan Lee's kindly face flashed a smile at him. Then, in an instant, his world plunged into this pitch-black void.
"Detected: Jason Xu under attack by fists and kicks. Acquired entry: 'Fists and Kicks.'"
A cold, emotionless female voice echoed in his mind. Before Jason could make sense of it, the pain vanished abruptly.
The sensation of punches and kicks still lingered on his body, but they no longer hurt.
He opened his eyes.
He was in a garbage-strewn alley, flanked by red brick buildings with rusted fire escapes snaking upward.
His gaze sharpened. Three thugs were pummeling him with fists and feet.
Jason stood up, shrugging off their blows. Their attacks no longer caused him any harm. Was this the power of the "entry" the voice had mentioned?
No, it was more than that!
The thugs' movements appeared sluggish in his eyes, as if time had slowed. If he wanted, he could easily dodge their strikes. A flood of insights about hand-to-hand combat surged into his mind.
He tested it, weaving through their attacks and retaliating.
One punch sent a thug sprawling. An elbow knocked another to the ground.
As he turned to deliver a swift kick to the last thug, a sharp, searing pain erupted in his lower back!
The cold female voice spoke again:
"Detected: Jason Xu attacked with a dagger. Acquired entry: 'Dagger.'"
"Damn it! That's lethal!" A stab to the kidney was no trivial matter—most people wouldn't survive such agony.
The thug, seeing Jason still standing, lunged with the dagger again.
But the blade could no longer pierce Jason's skin, though it tore several holes in his clothes.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jason snatched the dagger from the thug's hand, ready to strike back.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, freezing Jason in place.
Born in modern China, raised in a peaceful era, he had never seen a real gun before. Was this his first encounter with one, only to die the next moment?
He glanced down. Blood was slowly seeping through his shirt from his left abdomen.
They're really targeting my left side, aren't they?
The voice chimed in:
"Detected: Jason Xu attacked with a handgun. Acquired entry: 'Handgun.'"
Bang! Bang! Bang! The thug he'd knocked down earlier fired three more shots—two to the chest, one to the forehead.
The bullet to his forehead was clearly visible, pausing briefly before clinking to the ground.
"Monster! He's a monster!"
The three thugs had only intended to rob him, but when they found Jason penniless, their frustration turned to violence. As Jason fought back, the situation escalated beyond their expectations. They never imagined the man before them was some kind of freak.
"Run! Run now!"
The trio turned to flee. Jason, gripping the dagger, felt it as an extension of himself. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it, striking one thug's calf with pinpoint accuracy.
The thug screamed and collapsed.
The other two didn't look back, abandoning their comrade as they bolted out of the alley. So much for loyalty.
Jason, his face contorted in pain, approached the fallen thug.
The thug, wearing a mask of agony, met Jason's gaze with wide, terrified eyes.
"Where am I? Who are you people?" Jason asked, his voice trembling.
The thug stammered, his voice equally shaky, "Th-this is C-Clinton District. W-we're with the Dead Souls Gang! D-don't do anything crazy!"
Jason knocked the thug out with a single punch and rifled through his pockets, finding sixty-four dollars.
He pulled the dagger from the thug's leg and, dragging his increasingly cold body, limped out of the alley, leaving a long trail of blood behind.
"Detected: Jason Xu under threat of death from excessive blood loss. Acquired entry: 'Blood Loss.'"
"Detected: Jason Xu under threat of death from foreign object infection. Acquired entries: 'Foreign Object,' 'Infection.'"
"Detected: Jason Xu affected by kidney failure. Acquired entry: 'Kidney.'"
…What the hell? An entry for 'Kidney'?
After acquiring the 'Blood Loss' entry, his bleeding stopped instantly, but the blood he'd already lost didn't replenish.
And so, spectacularly, he passed out again.
"Detected: Jason Xu harmed by surgical scalpel. Acquired entry: 'Scalpel.'"
"Detected: Jason Xu harmed by needle. Acquired entry: 'Needle.'"
"Detected: Jason Xu harmed by animal mating. Acquired entry: 'Animal Mating.'"
The icy voice stirred Jason's consciousness, but his weakened state left him in a semi-conscious daze, unable to open his eyes.
Which lady is so shameless as to take advantage of an injured man? Then again, it might not be a lady—it could be a guy.
The horrifying possibility jolted Jason, urging him to fight his way back to consciousness.
"Detected: Jason Xu strongly resisting unconsciousness. Acquired entry: 'Unconsciousness.'"
His eyes snapped open, and Jason bolted upright.
A sharp pain tore through his left abdomen, twisting his face in agony.
He was sitting on a single bed covered with a floral bedsheet. The room was distinctly feminine, adorned with plush toys, exuding a cozy, cute charm.
The wound on his left abdomen had been expertly treated, neatly bandaged. Thanks to the 'Blood Loss' entry, no blood seeped out despite the sudden movement.
On the nightstand sat a cleaned bullet, undoubtedly the one removed from his abdomen.
Jason carefully shifted his body and got out of bed.
He shuffled to the bathroom, relieving himself first. Remarkably, despite two brutal attacks on his left kidney, the 'Kidney' entry ensured he felt no discomfort.
Standing before the mirror, he saw a strikingly handsome face—a young, mixed-race Chinese man, barely twenty years old, though his youthful features made it hard to pin down his exact age.
Damn, this body is way too good-looking! Jason couldn't help but admire himself. No wonder some lady couldn't resist!
Leaving the bathroom, he entered the living room.
It was a small space, connected to the kitchen, furnished with just a TV, a sofa, and a cabinet—the only three pieces of furniture or appliances.
At the cabinet, Jason found a photo of the lady.
She was in her early twenties, with blonde hair, fair skin, and freckles—an average-looking woman. In the photo, she wore a graduation gown, holding a diploma from St. Elizabeth's Nursing College.
Next to the photo was a trophy with an inscription: "1995, Katherine Johnson, Best Newcomer Award, Clinton District First Hospital, New York City."
Clinton District, New York City. Jason rubbed his chin, the name striking a chord of familiarity.
An old-fashioned calendar hung beside the TV, marking today as May 22, 1997.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in a long time.
In the kitchen, a sandwich and a glass of milk sat on a small square table.
A note was tucked under the glass.
"Poor boy, you're awake? Eat up, no need to wash the dishes. I'll be back early from my lunch break today to cook you some Chinese food—look forward to it! Very satisfied with you, Kate."
Jason gave a faint smile. This lady seemed kind, if a bit forward.
The wound was bandaged well, and as long as he moved carefully, it didn't hinder his mobility.
He grabbed a spare key from the table and left the room.
The apartment building was old, with worn wooden floors and peeling walls showing its age.
Jason slowly descended the stairs to the first-floor lobby, where he saw a small concierge desk, like one in an old hotel.
A sturdy metal grate separated the desk from the lobby. Behind it sat a plump elderly woman.
Seeing Jason, she greeted him warmly, "Oh, you must be the handsome guy Kate brought home! You are good-looking—no wonder she's smitten."
Jason smiled back. "Hello, I'm Jason Xu. And you are?"
"You can call me Mrs. Seaver," she said with a grin. "My late husband and I bought this building twenty years ago."
"That's impressive," Jason said. "You must make a fortune with a place this big."
Mrs. Seaver shook her head with a sigh. "Hardly. The expenses are killer—maintenance, gang protection fees, and don't get me started on property taxes."
She glanced at a wall of old photos behind her, filled with nostalgic images.
"My tenants are old friends," she continued. "Some passed on, and their kids took over. Decades of friendship, and I haven't raised the rent in years."
Jason gave her a thumbs-up. "People like you are rare these days."
Mrs. Seaver chuckled. "You're a good kid. You'll fit right in here—everyone in this building's good folk."
They chatted on, losing track of time until the lobby clock chimed eleven, snapping them back to reality.
"Oh, look at me, rambling on in my old age," Mrs. Seaver said. "You'd better head back up. Kate comes home for lunch—she works nearby. She'd scold me for keeping an injured boy like you chatting."
Just then, a police officer entered.
"Is Katherine Johnson a resident here?" he asked.
Mrs. Seaver blinked, then nodded. "Yes, she lives here."
"Does she have any family or friends?" the officer pressed.
A bad feeling crept into Jason's gut. Before Mrs. Seaver could respond, he said, "I'm her friend."
The officer nodded, his expression grave. "Come with me. Katherine Johnson was killed half an hour ago in an alley near First Hospital."
Jason froze.