Possession

Chen Chuan arrived outside the small cabin, produced a key, unlocked the door, pushed it open, and walked straight into the inner room. There was hardly any furniture inside. Lying on the floor was a man bound tightly from head to toe in thick rope, his mouth sealed with duct tape. The man appeared to be in his fifties, with thinning hair. The glasses he usually wore had fallen to the ground. Seeing Chen Chuan approach, he immediately began writhing and struggling, letting out muffled whines. Chen Chuan walked over, picked up the glasses, set them properly onto the man's face, and said calmly, "No need to worry, Mr. Feng. You'll be released from your troubles soon enough." A look of pure terror surfaced in the man's eyes, and he struggled frantically, as if pleading for his life. Chen Chuan felt not the slightest shred of pity. This Mr. Feng Gai was an implant doctor who harbored a peculiar fetish—he believed that the internal organs and bones of the human body possessed a unique beauty, an aesthetic that could be refined and perfected. He had established a human farm inside his clinic, raising and breeding people handpicked and abducted from the Lower District. Every so often, he would savor the act of extracting tissues and organs from their bodies. To preserve their vitality and indulge his personal desires, he used drugs and hypnosis to keep them conscious during the process. The victims would watch with wide-open eyes as the entire procedure took place. Afterward, he would wrap the organs in a special biological membrane, giving them a crystalline sheen, and arrange them in a display room. He had been prosecuted and arrested several times, yet thanks to his connections among the upper and middle classes, he had always managed to evade judgment with the aid of solicitors, paying nothing more than a fine at most. Not long ago, he had even hosted a "Crystal Organ Exhibition," inviting a circle of acquaintances to come admire his "collection." Chen Chuan had learned about him through the Fringe Channel. Although the Fringe Channel was generally reliable, he had personally investigated to verify the claims. Once he confirmed the facts were true, he decided to use this man as the sacrifice. This time, he had Wu Bei directly disable the boundary credentials belonging to Feng Gai and his security detail while disrupting the security implants' field exchanges, making it effortless to carry the man away. Feng Gai was screaming desperately now. Anyone listening closely would have realized he was babbling things like "I have money, spare me!" But with his mouth taped shut, the sounds that emerged were nothing more than muffled, incoherent grunts. Chen Chuan did not bother speaking to him. Hoisting him up with one hand, he carried him out of the cabin. He popped open the trunk, placed the man inside, pulled the civet stone plaque from his pocket, tossed it onto Feng Gai's body, and slowly shut the trunk. Returning to the driver's seat, Chen Chuan buckled his seatbelt and made one final contact with Gao Ming and Wu Bei before heading out of the city. Then he started the engine and drove toward the outskirts. Feng Gai was plunged into pitch darkness. He knew Chen Chuan was preparing to do something to him, but had no idea where he was being taken, and fear of the unknown began to spread uncontrollably through his mind. Soon, however, he had no room left to think about that. After only a short while, his eyes snapped wide open, and he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Even with his mouth taped shut, the agony wracking him forced out an ear-splitting wail. He felt something burrowing directly into his belly, gnawing and tearing away with wild abandon. As an implant doctor, he could intimately sense and accurately identify exactly which organ was being shredded at every second, which only deepened the torture, driving him to thrash about in near-madness. He twisted and rolled violently, slamming against the confines as if trying to burst out of the trunk. Before long, a vast puddle of bodily fluids spread beneath him. Chen Chuan felt the commotion coming from the trunk but paid it no heed. The car soon exited Center City and merged onto National Boulevard heading west. After driving for roughly ten minutes, silence finally settled in the back. He pulled over slowly to the side of the road, stepped out, walked to the rear, and reached out to pop open the trunk. Feng Gai was already dead inside, his face horribly contorted, eyes wide and staring. Yet there was not a single external wound on his body. All the damage had come from within. His brain, internal organs, and muscle tissues had been completely devoured from the inside out, leaving his limbs and torso shriveled and hollowed, with only an intact layer of skin and skeleton remaining. He had become a piece of art just like the ones he had once admired. Chen Chuan retrieved the stone plaque and checked his watch. Lianwei Heavy Control's convoy had been on the road for about forty minutes. Judging by their standard travel speed, they would be outside the urban legend's effective range in another ten to twenty minutes. It was time to act. He brought the stone plaque up before him and tapped his knuckles against its surface. When Youxing activated the ritual, he had been forced to kowtow because he was himself part of the sacrifice, occupying an inferior position in the rite. Chen Chuan had no such need. He was merely demanding that the urban legend fulfill the ritual. Following the knock, the civet stone plaque trembled faintly, and an unmistakable sign of blurring appeared over the Second Self. Chen Chuan looked up toward the road ahead along National Boulevard, knowing in his heart that the ritual had begun. Within Lianwei Heavy Control's convoy, Zhao Qian sat inside his armored personal vehicle, speaking with members of the security detail over his boundary credential. Having not participated in company operations for nearly half a year, he needed to make his presence felt among these men. Furthermore, during the quarterly performance evaluations, these security operatives would fill out an evaluation form regarding their superiors. In most cases their opinions did not carry much weight—the attitude of the company's upper management was what truly mattered. Still, by winning them over, he could at least avoid becoming unpopular and eliminate one more excuse his rivals might use against him. After finishing his conversation with the primary security personnel, Zhao Qian checked his watch. They had been on the road for under an hour, and so far, everything was proceeding smoothly. He instructed his assistant to open the storage compartment and pour him a glass of Mellow Blood, intending to drink some to refresh his mind. But just as the beverage touched his mouth, an agonizing, heart-wrenching pain tore through his insides. He let out a choked gasp. His hand shook involuntarily, spilling the drink down the front of his shirt. He clamped a hand over his mouth, yet red liquid still seeped between his fingers, making it impossible to tell at a glance whether it was actual blood or the beverage. As the agony intensified, his pupils dilated, the corners of his eyes twitched, and his body began to shudder violently. He could distinctly feel an invisible entity ruthlessly gouging and devouring his mutated tissues and internal organs without restraint. The assistant noticed something was wrong. Having never seen Zhao Qian in such utter distress, he asked in a panicked, concerned voice, "Supervisor, what's... where are you hurting?" Zhao Qian had no idea what was happening. A dozen possibilities flashed through his mind in an instant. As a third limit fighter, his mind remained remarkably clear even in the face of such a sudden assault. Suppressing his voice, he rasped, "What are you panicking for? Get out the emergency medicine I prepared!" "Right, right away!" The assistant hurriedly retrieved a medical kit from another storage compartment. Zhao Qian took several green pills from inside and swallowed them in one gulp along with the half glass of beverage that remained. This was an emergency medicine crafted for fighters by the Qingnang Jade Workshop, the best available on the open market—superior even to the products from Tiancong Baicao. It could stimulate his vitality, prompting his mutated tissues and injuries to regenerate rapidly in a short span of time. With the capabilities of a third limit fighter, as long as he could weather the immediate crisis and be supplied with adequate nutrients, he could naturally regenerate and heal whatever tissues had been lost. To his horror, however, his action only seemed to excite the invisible force even more. It stopped gnawing elsewhere and focused entirely on the rapidly regenerating tissues and organs, ravaging them over and over again. Zhao Qian's face drained of color, his body trembling uncontrollably. He realized something was horribly amiss. If this continued, he might truly be torn apart right here. Keeping his voice low, he told the assistant, "Don't make a scene. Go get Mr. Chi." "Yes, sir!" The assistant hurriedly reached out through his boundary credential. Moments later, a vehicle pulled alongside Zhao Qian's car, matching its speed. The occupant rolled down the window, and Zhao Qian's window was lowered as well, revealing his pale face. The moment Chi Duan laid eyes on Zhao Qian, he was taken aback. Zhao Qian's vital presence was extraordinarily faint. Third limit fighters possessed immense, resilient vitality; for him to look like this meant his condition was grave. In truth, the urban legend had inflicted catastrophic damage on Zhao Qian, obliterating nearly half of his organs and internal tissues in one breath. Had a fighter of his limit not possessed dual sets of redundant organs to sustain life, he would already be dead. Even so, without having swallowed those medicinal pills, he would not have possessed the strength to speak, and even now he was barely holding on. Chi Duan asked, "Mr. Zhao, what happened?" Zhao Qian said, "Someone seems to have ambushed me. I'm not sure what method they used, but I can't keep going. I have to return to Center City for treatment." Chi Duan asked, "Do you need the convoy to turn around?" Zhao Qian answered calmly, "That's out of the question. I can only go back in a personal capacity. But I suspect whoever ambushed me didn't make just one move—there will likely be trouble on the road back. I need you to escort me." Chi Duan did not hesitate. "Understood." He was responsible solely for Zhao Qian's personal safety; the convoy's mission was none of his concern. Zhao Qian then instructed his assistant, "Notify Captain Peregrine." The assistant quickly contacted the security captain via the boundary credential. Once connected, he said, "Supervisor Zhao has fallen suddenly ill—he may have been poisoned—so he must return to Center City immediately for medical attention." Peregrine's stern voice came through: "If Supervisor Zhao's health is failing, he is permitted to leave the convoy and drive back in his own vehicle." The transport route and schedule were strictly planned; the convoy would not turn back for a single individual. Moreover, Zhao Qian's condition was his own problem, and there was no justification for holding the entire team accountable for it. The assistant pressed anxiously, "We also need the supervisor's personal security team to leave with us." Peregrine replied in the same flat, emotionless tone: "My apologies, but you cannot take that security team with you."