Super Soldier

Chapter Thirteen: The Slayer of Demons

After blocking the kick, Lin Fei, now governed by the War God program within his body, sprang agilely to his feet. Step by step, he approached the assassin who had just introduced himself with the codename "Oni." With his left hand shaped like a blade and his body propelled in a sudden burst of speed, Lin Fei's vision blurred—and in the next instant, his hand had pierced through the chest of the self-proclaimed close-combat expert.

“Threat eliminated. Please resume your sit-up training,” the electronic, synthesized voice echoed in Lin Fei’s ears once more. Staring at his hand, buried in the man's chest and smeared in a mix of crimson and pale fluids, Lin Fei was too astonished to utter a word.

This program was simply phenomenal—it had vanquished his foe in a blink. Lin Fei slowly withdrew his hand from the man’s body.

As the voice continued to urge him to resume his sit-ups, Lin Fei had no choice but to crouch down and wipe the blood from his hand onto the dead man’s clothing. He then returned to his cot and resumed his physical training, leaving the corpse of his new cellmate unattended.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The rhythmic thud of his sit-ups against the bunk once again echoed through the cell, but this time, no other prisoner dared interrupt him.

They had all witnessed the brutal efficiency of Lin Fei’s actions. In a matter of seconds, he had slain a man who claimed to be the third most formidable fighter in the empire, someone infamous for his ability to kick through concrete walls—and then had returned to his training as if nothing had happened. His cellmates, well aware of Oni’s fearsome strength, now lay quietly on their bunks, too terrified to even call for the guards.

Even the usually snoring inmate had fallen into a fearful silence, likely staying awake the entire night in dread that any sound might provoke Lin Fei to dispatch him as casually as he had the last.

The next morning, when the guards opened the cell door and discovered the cold corpse, they reviewed the footage from the surveillance cameras.

Seeing that Lin Fei had struck in response to an attack, the incident was deemed self-defense. The prison administered no punishment; Oni's body was simply dragged away, and a few other inmates were sent in to scrub away the bloodstains.

Life within the prison returned to its cold routine. Lin Fei gradually acquainted himself with the other inmates, including the leaders of the two rival factions dominating the prison canteen system.

Escaping from Karl Prison—a facility fortified for death-row inmates and lifers—was not something one man could achieve alone.

As the saying goes, “Many hands make light work.” With aligned goals and shared interests, even sworn enemies can become allies.

During a brief recreation period, chains clinking with every step, Lin Fei visited the leaders of the prison’s two major factions one after the other.

“I want to break out. Are you in?”

Sometimes, the most direct words can carry the greatest weight. The wariness in the eyes of the two leaders quickly gave way to eager nods.

Later that afternoon, during another recess, Lin Fei brought both leaders together.

“To escape, we must do more than flee Karl Prison. We need a spacecraft to leave this forsaken planet. Outside these walls lies only endless desert and mutated beasts. Escaping the prison just to die out there would be no better than staying behind.”

“Many have tried to break out—but without a ship, they’ve all failed. What’s your plan?” asked the cyborg leader of the second canteen, doubt flickering in his mechanical eye.

“Not long ago, I inspected the prison infirmary and noticed something interesting—a ventilation duct above the ceiling, barred with metal grates.

We could crawl through the vents and reach the prison’s outer sectors. Then, we h****k one of the tourist spacecrafts that arrive monthly to witness the death matches. I’ve already mapped the path through the ductwork. When the time comes, follow my lead.

What we lack now is a way back into that particular infirmary—and a means to breach the grate.”

“I propose that, on the night of the next death match, the three of us all enter the ring. We fight and make sure we’re injured badly enough to be admitted into the infirmary. Then, we’ll fill the remaining beds in the other rooms with our wounded men so that we’re assigned to the room with the ventilation duct.” Lin Fei spun his tale confidently—though in truth, he had no map, only a gambler’s hope that chance might favor the bold.

Seeing that both canteen bosses appeared convinced, Lin Fei pressed on: “Now I need you two to procure a corrosive compound capable of melting metal and get it smuggled into the designated infirmary room.

Among your men, surely some death-row chemists remain. With more than twenty days until the next match, we still have time to prepare. If there’s anything else you wish to add, speak now.”

After laying out his scheme, Lin Fei waited as the cyborg leader, known as Viper, from the third canteen responded.

“The infirmary is checked every thirty minutes. That gives us too little time to escape through the duct unnoticed. We’ll need a distraction. Our men will stage a riot twenty-five minutes after we begin our breakout. While the guards are occupied suppressing the chaos, the three of us slip away through the vents. Whether the riot succeeds or fails doesn’t matter—it just needs to buy us time.

Once a major prison riot begins, the guards won’t have the capacity to monitor three wounded inmates in the infirmary.”

“A surface riot paired with a covert escape—an excellent strategy,” Lin Fei agreed. No wonder they called him Viper—cold, calculating, and willing to sacrifice countless comrades for a shot at freedom. Lin Fei found himself oddly admiring the ruthlessness of it all; the plan’s odds of success had risen significantly.

As the days passed, preparations went forward according to plan.

Over twenty days later, the death match returned. Lin Fei and the two canteen leaders, each accompanied by a trusted subordinate, entered the arena. Though Lin Fei emerged victorious, all three sustained seemingly serious injuries. That night, they were transported to the infirmary for treatment.

“You really didn’t hold back,” Viper muttered to Lin Fei, pulling a bloodied metal plate from beneath his shirt. “Good thing I had this steel plate and a fake blood pack, or I’d have been shattered into pieces.”