A Twist of Fate

"Fuck." In a setting and situation neither could have predicted, Ji Jue and Lu Feng stared wide-eyed at each other. After a heartbeat of stunned silence, both cursed in unison. Staring into each other's faces, they couldn't help but blurt out at the same time: "How did you manage this?" Their voices overlapped, plunging them right back into silence. One could only say fate worked in mysterious ways. Though at times, it was a little *too* mysterious... For a moment, both realized they had no idea how to explain their sudden appearance here, let alone how they had stirred up such an enormous mess. "My bad." Lu Feng noticed blood dripping from his face. He raised a hand and wiped at it twice, only to smear it worse. Glancing around at the chaotic sprawl of corpses, he abandoned any elaborate excuse and merely shrugged. "Slipped up." *Right, just like having superhuman strength and accidentally butchering all thirty-odd members of the Qi family?* *Why don't you get caught in a vice raid lying on top of a girl and tell the cops you just tripped and fell?* "Who was asking about that?" Ji Jue rolled his eyes, staring at what Lu Feng held in his hand. "I meant the gun." This piece of work was contraband through and through. Open though the Federation was, civilians were strictly forbidden from possessing fully automatic firearms, and even a handgun permit cost a fortune to secure. Yet right by Lu Feng's feet, inside an identical mechanic's bag, long guns and short arms were practically overflowing. Ji Jue's eyes went red with envy—he hadn't even touched anything this badass before, okay? Lu Feng paused, then broke into a grin. "Ran up some tabs with my old squadmates." He added, "There's plenty to go around." With that, he drew a pistol from the holster at the small of his back and, gripping it by the barrel, passed it over. It dropped into Ji Jue's hands—a hallmark product from Universal Heavy Industries' Sentinel Group, a classic model with over forty years of military service: the Hunter. Twelve-round capacity, overall length 197 mm... The moment it settled into his grasp, a flood of information surfaced in Ji Jue's consciousness along with its weighty feel. The entire pistol seemed to turn translucent; without even having to stare, every inch of its internal structure was mapped directly into his mind. "Be careful with that. Don't break it," Lu Feng said. "That's a scout vanguard treasure from our airborne squad, handed down through generations. I had to get into several fistfights just to take it with me when I was discharged. If you break it or lose it, I won't have the face to see my old squadmates again!" "Is it really that old?" "Older than me. What do you think?" *Hello?* Ji Jue instinctively called out inward, but received no reply. Yet the resonant sensation was so profound, far more spirited than any machine Ji Jue had ever encountered. It was as though a stoic, resolute companion stood right beside him, quietly listening to his needs—you command, it executes, remaining otherwise as silent as stone. A fine piece of work. An undeniable masterpiece! Ji Jue's eyes lit up. He put away his screwdriver, swung his crowbar to bring two more blows down onto the supervisor's forehead for good measure, and only then lifted his head to take in their surroundings. His smile slowly faded. After seeing the good, came the bad. It was like some sort of... dissection room. On the operating table in the center lay a corpse that had not yet gone cold, its fingers still twitching with lingering neural impulses. Its chest and abdomen had been cut open, and its internal organs were completely gone... Right beside it, packing into an insulated cooler was clearly only half-finished. Small, carefully packaged boxes sat in view, awaiting express delivery into buyers' hands. Unfortunately, the courier was already dead by the front door. Unable to make the trip. And there was more... Blood. It seeped out from behind a massive shower curtain. No matter how many times a mop went over it, the viscous red stains on the tiles could not be erased. Ji Jue reached out to pull back the curtain, but behind him came Lu Feng's voice, calling his name and telling him to stop. But he didn't stop. Just like that, he pulled back a corner of hell. A machine resembling a wood chipper sat with its hopper aimed directly at a bathtub large enough for a decadent party... inside, there was neither champagne nor foam. Only red. An overpowering, garish crimson soaked out from countless pulverized bodies, rippling faintly beneath the glare of the lights. The entire basement was like an assembly line. An endless stream of raw material fed in, harvested for organs to turn a profit, drained of blood to feed gluttonous beasts. The remaining worthless waste was dumped together and destroyed. Fragments of mangled corpses piled upon one another. A hollow eye peeked out through a gap, staring through the bloody wash straight at Ji Jue. Dizzy, he couldn't help but stumble backward. Someone caught him. Lu Feng drew the curtain closed again and patted his shoulder. "These sons of bitches have been quietly snatching the homeless and solitary folks off the street—people no one would notice going missing—and dragging them down here. It's been going on for a long time." "I know." Ji Jue suppressed the urge to vomit. He had anticipated this, had even prepared himself. The only thing he hadn't imagined was... there would be so many. Dozens? Hundreds? It was impossible to estimate. So many people had died in silence, murdered, carved up, dissected, and finally reduced to minced chunks for disposal... And the ones doing the butchering here weren't even those ravenous monsters. It was people who should have been no different from the victims, turning their blades on their own kind. Perhaps if someone got lucky and escaped, a few fewer lives might end here. But if Ji Jue and the others had bad luck, a few more bodies might be added to the tally. Living or dying, people were treated like weeds underfoot. "Too bad the ones here were just small fries." Lu Feng sighed. Without bothering to wipe the blood from himself, he picked the weapon-packed backpack up off the floor. "Come on. Let's head out and see if the boss is around." "Wait!" Ji Jue quickly stopped him, eyeing his appearance. "You're going out looking like that?" "How else?" Lu Feng rolled his eyes. "What, should I bring out a few red packets and wish them an early happy New Year?" "This is why Mother Lu always says you're brainless." Ji Jue couldn't help but sigh. Rummaging through the toolbox hanging from his shoulder, he pulled out two balaclavas. "Lucky I made an extra one when I put them together. Otherwise, if someone survives and recognizes us, who knows how much trouble that would bring." "Hey, kid, look at you, well-prepared." Lu Feng grinned and pulled the crudely made mask—a loop of stretchy fabric with two holes cut out—over his face. He adjusted it twice and took a deep breath. At last, he looked somewhat like a hardened thug. "Though this color..." He frowned. "Why does it look just like your long johns?" "...Truth be told, half an hour ago it was on my legs." Ji Jue sighed. "So stop sniffing it, brother, you're freaking me out." "Ji, you son of a—" Lu Feng was about to curse when he froze mid-breath, watching with wide eyes as Ji Jue opened his mouth... and expertly slipped the surveillance cable he had just cut between his teeth. "Hold on, let me show you a trick—holy shit, it's live!" With electric sparks flashing across his teeth, Ji Jue's eyes rolled back, and an avalanche of footage rushed into his vision! Then, amid the jumbled recordings, a familiar figure appeared. "—Found them!" . . In the secret garage on the fourth basement level, business was bustling. The truck was nearly full, but the frantic loading showed no sign of slowing down. Standing beside the truck with arms crossed, supervising the entire operation, was the very woman who had nearly devoured both Big Master Ji and Little Master Ji completely. Unfortunately, once she removed her sunglasses, all her seductive charm vanished, replaced only by a bone-chilling crimson in her eyes. A fawning man hurried over carrying a lounge chair. "Miss Zhu, please, take a rest. We'll be done here in no time—would you like some water? I'll have Xiao Li fetch some for you, it just arrived today—" "You talk too much. Is the third floor cleared out yet?" Zhu Hong glanced back, expressionless. "Make it quick. Once this shipment goes out, move all the remaining goods to the southern foothills. Go clean up the people inside; we can't leave this place either." "So soon?" The flatterer froze, his smile stiffening. "Some of the equipment was just moved in, and transferring the ones in the cages will also..." "Too much trouble? If it's too much trouble, we won't bother." Zhu Hong let out a cold sneer. "That mad dog from the Security Bureau already slaughtered everyone in Yiqing and the Quancheng Gang this afternoon! Even Old Hu calling to vouch and plead for them didn't do a damn thing—when he said he'd wipe out whole families, he wiped out whole families! If you think that Wang fellow is a tough nut who's closer to you than your own father and would never rat you out, you're welcome to wash your neck and wait here. Or—" She paused, an unvarnished chill surfacing in her smile. "If you're afraid of pain, I can help send you on your way right now." "..." The man reflexively stepped back, his face twitching. "I'll tell them to hurry right away." *Crash!* Amid the loading, two porters collided, knocking a crate over. Crimson spilled out, and the body of a dead infant tumbled to the floor. In an instant, total silence fell. Zhu Hong gazed expressionlessly at the scene. His face burning with embarrassment, the man waved his hand. Men from the doorway stepped up and dragged the panicking porter away, followed by muffled thuds. Under cold gazes, after the cleanup, the hauling resumed. "What's the use of keeping so much useless trash around? All they do is embarrass us." Zhu Hong looked away. "If they can work, they work; if not, dispose of them and feed them to the dogs so they don't waste 'rations.'" "Right, of course." Sweating profusely, the man scrambled to explain himself. "That old woman at the auto shop was an unexpected snag, please forgive us... As for that young man with a scar on his face, we've already tracked down his location. I'll take men over immediately and bring him to you tonight without fail." Just outside the garage, in the quiet stairwell, two masked men exchanged glances... A certain scarred Mister Ji Jue was practically breaking out in a cold sweat: *Motherfuckers, you bastards are doxxing people now?* *Wait, today... Fuck, so yesterday's old bastard wasn't even in cahoots with you lot?!* Ji Jue's eyes widened. "Pfft." Beside him, Lu Feng couldn't hold back a gloating snicker. He was just about to say something when the man inside the garage continued: "Though I remember there was another man at that shop. A bit older, looked like he had tight, solid muscles, just a bit dark from the sun..." "Black as a toad. Why bring him back, to spoil our appetites?" Zhu Hong shot him a cold glare. "Drain his blood and dump the rest in the sea. Keep it clean, and don't stir up any more trouble." "Pfft." This time it was Ji Jue who couldn't help snorting with laughter, while Lu Feng glared daggers at him: *The fuck are you laughing at!*