Chapter 23
1829 Words
*Boom.*
A shockwave slammed into his chest. His ribs let out a sickening, grinding crunch.
His body went flying backward, his back smashing violently against the tunnel wall. Shards of rubble pelted his face like bullets, slicing open several b****y gashes. His eardrums rang incessantly; the world instantly went silent.
Qin Lie hit the ground, dropping to one knee. The sleeve of his left arm was charred black, the flesh beneath peeled back to reveal dark red muscle tissue. The wound had stopped bleeding—his werewolf genes were forcing a rapid recovery—but the healing couldn't keep pace with the tearing damage.
He wiped the dust from his face. His palm came away slick with blood.
From deep within the tunnel, a voice blared through a loudspeaker, cutting through the ringing in his ears.
"Operation *Scavenger* initiated. Target confirmed. Eliminate on sight."
The voice was cold as ice. The Captain of the Silver Cross Society.
Qin Lie remained motionless, his breathing suppressed to the barest minimum. His nostrils were filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder and sulfur, mingled with the metallic tang of blood. The tunnel ahead had collapsed; twisted rebar jutted out from the rubble like the ribs of some colossal beast.
Behind him lay a dead end. Ahead—an ambush.
He rose to his feet, short sword in hand. The blade quivered slightly, emitting a low-frequency hum.
Something was wrong.
This vibration wasn't resonance; it was heat. The ancient runes etched into the hilt were glowing red, burning like smoldering coals.
Qin Lie glanced down. The markings carved by that swordsmith back in Chapter One had now become a harbinger of death.
Footsteps drew near. Not the sound of ordinary boots, but the distinct crunch of tactical soles grinding against loose rubble. Three squads were advancing in a triangular formation. Infrared laser dots swept across the walls, their beams slicing through the exact spot where Qin Lie had stood moments before.
He couldn't stay here.
He turned and slipped into a narrow maintenance tunnel running alongside the main passage. It was a tight squeeze—barely wide enough for a single person to pass. A dense network of pipes crisscrossed the space, accompanied by the ceaseless drip of water.
His werewolf night vision activated. The darkness receded from his sight, leaving behind only a world of gray-and-white silhouettes.
At the end of the tunnel lay an exit—a metal grate, half-devoured by rust. Qin Lie kicked it open.
A blast of cold wind rushed in.
He had reached the outskirts of the industrial district. Abandoned factory buildings stood tall like tombstones. A low hum filled the sky. Three drones hovered a hundred meters up, their searchlight beams crisscrossing the ground below.
Infrared thermal imaging.
As long as one's body temperature exceeded that of the environment, they were a target.
Qin Lie tore a strip from his clothes and bound the wound on his left arm. Blood was still seeping through, but the heat signature had been partially masked. He crouched down, scooped up a handful of mud, and smeared it over his face and neck.
It wasn't enough.
The drones shifted course. Their searchlights bore down in his direction.
He had to strike first.
His gaze locked onto the area ahead. A massive, rust-eaten oil tank lay sprawled across the open ground, overgrown with weeds. It was a visual blind spot—and a perfect ambush point.
Qin Lie moved.
He didn't run; instead, he glided low to the ground. His body flowed through the shadows like liquid. His breathing ceased completely, and his heartbeat dropped to thirty beats per minute. A specialized breath-control technique forcibly suppressed his vital signs.
The drones circled once. The beams of light drifted away.
"Heat source vanished. Possible dormancy or expiration," a voice crackled through the headset.
"Move in and confirm. Finish the job."
A three-man squad emerged from cover. The squad leader took the center position; one assistant shouldered a heavy flamethrower, while the other held a detection scanner.
They approached the oil tank.
The scanner began to beep rhythmically. "We've got a reading. Right behind the tank."
The squad leader raised a hand, signaling his team to encircle the target.
The assistant tightened his grip on the trigger, aiming the flamethrower's nozzle toward a gap in the tank's plating.
"Come out."
There was no response.
The assistant took a step forward, his boot snapping a dry twig underfoot.
*Snap.*
The sound rang out with startling clarity in the dead silence.
In that very instant...
A dark silhouette dropped from the top of the oil tank.
Qin Lie didn't use his blade. Instead, he clamped both hands directly onto the assistant's helmet. He exerted crushing force with his fingers; the alloy shell buckled inward, emitting a high-pitched shriek of twisting metal.
The sound of a snapping neck was muffled within the confines of the helmet.
The assistant slumped to the ground.
The other squad member raised his weapon. The moment the muzzle flash began to bloom, Qin Lie surged forward, closing the distance instantly. His short sword flashed out, slicing across the man's throat. Arterial blood splattered against the rusted oil tank, sizzling as it hit the metal.
Both men hit the ground—all within three seconds.
The Captain took two steps back. His flamethrower clattered to the ground. He drew the flare g*n from his belt and aimed it skyward.
*Bang.*
A red flare soared into the air.
Qin Lie made no move to stop him. This was exactly what he wanted.
A figure flashed past. The Captain felt his throat seized in a grip like iron pincers. His feet lifted clear of the ground.
"You..." The Captain choked the word out.
Qin Lie pinned him against the oil tank. With his free hand, he snatched the Captain's tactical tablet. The screen was still lit.
An encrypted file remained open.
"Project Chimera. Neural Interface." Qin Lie scanned the display.
The screen displayed multiple brainwave signatures. Most were red, indicating a state of forced suppression. Only one green signal was blinking.
Codename: Alpha.
Location Marker: Deep within the Old Port District.
Beneath it lay a line of fine print: Neural Synchronization: 98%. Subject Status: Stable.
Qin Lie's fingers tightened. The tablet's metal casing began to buckle and warp.
"You're using werewolves as batteries."
The Captain's face turned a deep shade of purple; he clawed at Qin Lie's arm—his fingernails digging deep into the flesh—yet he could not budge him an inch. With immense difficulty, he raised his eyes to look at the short sword in Qin Lie's other hand.
"Not... batteries," the Captain wheezed, the sound escaping through his crushed windpipe. "They are... keys."
Qin Lie's gaze turned glacial.
"The short sword... the tracking rune... the swordsmith... he knew all along..." Blood trickled from the corners of the Captain's mouth. "We've been... watching you... this whole time..."
So that was it.
The swordsmith from the first chapter had left behind more than just a weapon; he had planted a homing beacon as well. The Silver Cross Society hadn't needed to scour the entire city in a manhunt; they simply had to wait for the signal to light up.
Qin Lie exerted one final burst of force.
*Snap.*
The Captain's head lolled to one side. His body went limp.
The tablet remained in Qin Lie's hand. He swiftly purged the local data, retaining only the map coordinates.
In the distance, the crimson glow of the flare had yet to fade.
The roar of engines grew louder and more intense. Not cars—heavy armored vehicles. The ground began to tremble.
Suddenly, the tablet screen flickered.
A line of red text flashed across the display: Signal Source Locked. Tracking Mode Activated. Qin Lie shoved the tablet into his jacket.
He had been spotted.
Carrying this tablet was tantamount to carrying a homing beacon.
But he needed the data inside. The "Alpha" in the Old Port District might be the key to unlocking the werewolf genetic lock—or it might be yet another trap.
The armored vehicle's searchlights had already swept across his position. Blinding beams of light pierced through the darkness.
"Target confirmed! Open fire!"
Bullets ricocheted off the oil tanks, sending sparks flying in every direction.
Qin Lie spun around. The muscles across his back bulged as his werewolf strength surged. Pushing off the ground with explosive force, he shot into a nearby abandoned factory like a cannonball.
Glass shattered. His silhouette vanished into the second-floor corridor.
The pursuers swarmed into the factory, their footsteps echoing in chaotic disarray.
Qin Lie pressed himself against the back of a door, steadying his breathing.
The short sword in his hand was still burning hot; its crimson glow intensified with every passing moment.
He lowered his gaze to the hilt. The runes etched by the swordsmith seemed to mock him.
To survive, he first had to extract this thorn from his flesh.
But there was no time for that now.
Outside the window, the thrumming of helicopter rotors grew steadily louder. Beams from their searchlights locked onto the building.
Qin Lie tightened his grip on the short sword. His reflection shimmered in the blade—his pupils had narrowed into vertical slits, glowing with a cold, eerie green light.
Since he couldn't shake them off, he would simply drag them all down to hell with him.
He yanked the pin from a hand grenade—not to blow himself up, but to sever the stairwell.
*Boom!*
The staircase collapsed, leaving his pursuers trapped on the floor below.
Qin Lie sprinted toward the window. Below lay a maze of shipping containers—a drop of ten meters.
He jumped.
The instant he hit the ground, his knees buckled to absorb the impact. His bones groaned under the immense strain.
He didn't stop. He kept running.
The tablet tucked inside his jacket vibrated once again.
This time, it wasn't a text message—it was audio.
A digitally distorted male voice emanated from the tablet's speakers; though the volume was low, the words cut through the air with chilling clarity.
"Qin Lie. The game has only just begun."
It was the Archbishop.
Qin Lie didn't break stride as he plunged into the labyrinth of shipping containers.
The voice continued: "Alpha is waiting for you. Bring the sword."
The tablet screen lit up automatically. On the map displayed before him, the single red dot marking his location was no longer alone—it was now surrounded by countless others. Red lights flared to life on every container in the vicinity.
The encirclement tightened.
Qin Lie came to a halt.
Dead silence reigned all around. Only the red lights flickered—like countless eyes.
The hum of the short sword reached a crescendo.
He looked up. The night sky was slashed apart by the beams of helicopter searchlights.
The hunt was over.
Now began the true hunt.
- Writer
