Hitmen

*Ding!* "You have received a bonus payment of 2,000 points." *Ding!* "You have received a salary payment of 1,200 points." On the bus. Ye Huan picked up his phone and checked his account balance. 3,392 credit points. —A bowl of plain noodles on the street outside cost only 1 credit point. A set meal with beef, an egg, and an energy drink cost a total of 3 credit points. If it was just for food, this was more than enough. Thinking back carefully, his predecessor's monthly wage had been a mere 200 credit points. Pitifully meager, barely enough to scrape by. And it had been withheld for months without being paid. This time, a major incident had occurred at the mine, leaving many dead, and the entire district was paying close attention. He had also joined a powerful organization like the Bureau of Investigation. Furthermore, someone of Xia Li's stature—the General Affairs Office Director—had personally called to inquire. Only then had the mining company paid out his six months of back pay all at once, even tossing in a bonus to preserve a bit of goodwill. A bonus of 2,000 credit points. Under normal circumstances, how could they possibly have given that much to a lowly mining security guard? Ye Huan let out an involuntary breath of relief. With money in hand, he finally felt a measure of peace of mind. To an eighteen-year-old youth, this sum was practically astronomical. Still, he couldn't afford to be reckless with it. He would need to rent an apartment later. —He couldn't very well keep living in the mining district. So many people had died. Just thinking about it was chilling. Damn it, of all things to rhyme. —Truth be told, he didn't want to touch anything related to the dead ever again. The mere thought of what had happened in the hospital basement gave him goosebumps. This world held far too many bizarre occurrences and far too many strange people. Renting an apartment was definitely the better choice. The inner city offered better public security. A home in a bustling downtown district meant safety, a guarantee for his life. —In the coming days, he would look for a place first, then recalculate his living expenses based on the rent. As Ye Huan was lost in thought, before he knew it, the bus arrived at Mining Boulevard Station. "Passengers getting off, please exit through the rear door." Ye Huan was about to stand up when another thought struck him, and he remained seated. There was actually no need to make that trip. The error-free information sheet was sitting right in Xia Li's desk drawer. He could just go to her tomorrow and slip the sheet into his dossier. For now— He wanted to go "home" and see how things were. The original host of this body had been staying with a colleague of his late father, relying entirely on their care over the years. After leaving the hospital at noon, he hadn't gone back yet. Anyone who found out would certainly think it odd. Of course. He could brush it off with excuses like a "concussion" or "amnesia." But why bother? The bus started up again, rolling forward along the road. The scenery on both sides grew increasingly desolate, to the point where hardly a soul could be seen. Finally. "Passengers getting off, please stand toward the back." "Southern Mining District." Ye Huan stepped off the bus and walked up to the main gate of the mining area. "Hey? Isn't that Little Ye? Back from the hospital? You all right?" The old gatekeeper greeted him. "I'm fine, just back to pack a few things," Ye Huan said. "Hurry on, then." "Yeah." The side gate cracked open just wide enough for one person to pass. Ye Huan slipped through and walked toward the staff residential buildings. He suddenly halted and turned to look back in the direction of the mine. —The mining district was technically within city limits, located on the outer fringe of the city. There was no alternative. Human beings simply could not conduct extended operations out in the wild. A saying circulated widely throughout human society in this world: "Never leave the city; the wild has too many ways to kill you." In the distance. A towering city wall obstructed the view. Figures carrying rifles could faintly be seen patrolling atop the wall. Beyond the wall were fortifications such as watchtowers and bunkers, though they were frequently damaged. Ye Huan quietly withdrew his gaze, entered a drab, gray residential block, climbed all the way to the fourth floor, and knocked on the door on the left. "Who is it?" "It's me, Little Ye." The door opened slowly. A middle-aged woman in her forties, dressed in loungewear, came into view. The memories in Ye Huan's mind seemed to spring back to life. Everything from the past flashed by— After his parents passed away. His mother's close friend, Zhao Lingyi, had taken him in to live with her family. Her husband, Su Haisheng, was an accountant for the mining company and had raised no objections; in fact, he had been entirely supportive. —Back when Su Haisheng was young and had just joined the mining company, Ye Huan's father had saved his life during an internship down in the mines. Their daughter, Su Ni, was three years older than Ye Huan and looked after him like an elder sister. The original host's health had always been frail, and he had been nurtured in their home just like that. Later, Su Ni left to pursue her studies out of town. Su Haisheng pulled strings to secure the host a job as a security guard at the mine. Every day after work, the host would return and stay right here. "Auntie, I'm back," Ye Huan said with a smile. Zhao Lingyi pulled him into the apartment and quickly shut the door behind him. "Little Ye, your uncle and I were going to visit you at the hospital, but the mine told us the Bureau of Investigation had restricted your movement to screen you for issues, and no one was allowed to visit." Zhao Lingyi took hold of his arm, asking worriedly: "Are you all right?" "I'm fine," Ye Huan chuckled. "Who's going around spreading rumors like that? That wasn't the case at all." "That's what everyone is saying," Zhao Lingyi replied. In truth, within this city, the Bureau of Investigation was an organization that made everyone's blood run cold at the mere mention of its name. People didn't feel particularly strongly about the police department. The Bureau of Investigation was different. It handled natural disasters, terrorist attacks, and demonic incursions. The moment people from that bureau showed up, it meant things were sliding toward calamity and misfortune. People held an innate terror of them. Ye Huan looked at Zhao Lingyi, noting the words hovering above her head: *Ordinary Employee of Mining Company*. He smiled and said: "Last night while catching a thief at the mine, I bumped my head. I was just resting and undergoing checkups at the hospital, and the doctor wouldn't let anyone disturb me." "Then are you now—" "I'm fine, completely recovered. Just a mild concussion, that's all." Zhao Lingyi let out a sigh of relief. Tying on her apron, she headed toward the kitchen, saying as she went, "You haven't had lunch yet, right? Rest for a bit. The food will be ready in no time." Before long. The hum of the range hood buzzed from the kitchen. Ye Huan sat on the living room sofa, reminiscing about the original host's past life. There wasn't really much to dwell on. The host's life had been monotonous and unremarkable. There was only one blank stretch— Likely amnesia caused by the concussion, leaving it forgotten. Still, it probably wasn't anything important. He had just been a security guard, after all. ...After eating, he would just sleep at home. Tomorrow, "Daily Settlement" would be available for use, so taking a break right now was perfect. Ye Huan leaned against the sofa, spacing out for a while. *Knock, knock, knock—* Suddenly, someone was knocking at the door. At this hour. It was probably Old Su back from work. Ye Huan rose to answer the door. To his surprise, two men in black stood outside. "Who are you looking for?" Ye Huan asked. Hovering above their heads was the identity marker: *Professional Hitman*! The man in black in front asked in return: "Are you Ye Huan?" "Ye Huan? You're one floor too low. He lives upstairs." Ye Huan raised his hand with absolute naturalness, pointing toward the floor above. The two men in black froze slightly. In that single instant. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Ye Huan looked at the gun one of them was just raising. Because of his words, the man had hesitated, but it was clear that his original plan had been to ask and immediately shoot to kill. Ye Huan straightened his fingers into a palm, striking like lightning. With a sharp *smack*, his knifehand knocked away the gun in the lead man's hand. A sudden shift in emotion surged in his eyes. I— I have no choice. These are hitmen, sent to kill me. If I don't fight back, am I supposed to die all over again? The moment he moved, the hitman behind reacted with terrifying speed, drawing his gun instantly to fire. Ye Huan had anticipated it. He clenched his other hand into a fist and swung it with all his might— *Clang!* A crisp metallic ring. The bullet struck his fist and was deflected by his "Iron Hand." —An "In-Rank" martial artist could parry bullets with their techniques! Of course, once their moves were exhausted and their bodies drained of stamina, an In-Rank martial artist would still succumb to firearms! In the blink of an eye, Ye Huan lunged forward, slamming both palms into the lead man's chest. First form of Iron Hand: Iron Sand Palm! This technique utilized hidden force, designed to shatter an enemy's internal organs without producing a sound. Yet this was Ye Huan's first real fight; failing to control his strength, he pulverized all of the man's ribs, setting off a cascading chorus of fracturing bones. The man's chest caved in on the spot, his heart ruptured, and he collapsed to the floor without uttering a single peep. The hitman behind fired another shot, only for Ye Huan's second Iron Sand Palm to slap down both bullet and man together onto the floor. This strike was completely silent. Ye Huan closed in, pinning the gun with one hand while delivering another palm strike with the other. *Crack.* The hitman's neck snapped cleanly. Dead on the spot. On the living room wall, the second hand of the clock had only ticked twice. The battle was over. Ye Huan panted heavily, his face flushed and his entire body trembling faintly. He could even feel the pulsing surge of blood coursing through his veins. He had killed. And two of them in one go. Just now, his destructive power had rivaled a berserk brown bear! Was this what it meant to be a martial artist? "Little Ye, was someone at the door?" Zhao Lingyi's voice carried over the humming range hood from the kitchen. "A delivery I ordered arrived. Nothing's wrong!" Ye Huan called back over his shoulder, gently pulling the door nearly shut. "Oh, all right." From the kitchen, the clatter of the spatula resumed. Ye Huan steadied his nerves, stepped forward lightly, and squatted down to examine the bodies. First, he pocketed the two guns. As for the fired bullets, he crushed them directly into metallic dust with his bare hands. Then he searched the corpses. After combing through their clothes, he found nothing else except two wads of cash. Money shouldn't go to waste; he pocketed it. But— What about the corpses? Ye Huan felt a headache coming on. Just then, a draft blew through the hallway, and he suddenly realized he was drenched in a thin layer of cold sweat. Fighting for his life in reality for the first time had left him a little shaken after all. Still. Who on earth would want to kill an ordinary nobody like Ye Huan? If he had copper coins, he could project an elemental echo and have the answer in minutes. For now, he could only wait until tomorrow. Ye Huan crouched, grabbed a body in each hand, and sprinted swiftly toward the roof. He kicked open the rooftop door and set the two corpses down gently on the terrace. Hardly anyone came up here normally. Perhaps it would be safer to dispose of the bodies after dark. Or perhaps... Could he report this to the Bureau of Investigation? Ye Huan considered it, then rejected the idea. Even if he reported it, he had to wait until tomorrow. —He absolutely refused to deal with Investigation Section One today. If he was roped in at the last minute to escort that mutated martial artist, he would be a dead man! He had to make it through today safely! Ye Huan glanced around, scooped the bodies up again, and stacked them behind the sandbags in a corner of the terrace. Then he retreated to the doorway to check the line of sight. Good. The sandbags blocked the view; the bodies couldn't be seen. He would return after dark! He turned to leave. Taking only two steps, he froze. A man in black rushed up the stairs, coming to a halt just inside the rooftop doorway. Above his head hovered the identity marker: *Professional Hitman*. —An accomplice of the two from earlier! "Never would have guessed," the man in black said. "You're actually an In-Rank martial artist."