Chapter 73

Chapter 73: Burning Eyes

“Master, it’s a trap!”

“I’m going back.” Mi Xiaoliu suddenly turned on her heel.

It wasn’t because Sasha warned her of danger that she immediately wanted to leave, but rather because she suddenly realized—this area was very close to the one Wang San had recently told her to stay away from.

Because Jim had taken her along a different route than she usually used to find Beibei, she hadn’t recognized it right away.

“No harm in hearing me out first,” said the Crimson Walker, clapping his hands.

From all directions—between and above the shipping containers—more than a dozen people emerged, having long since hidden themselves. They sealed off every possible escape route, airtight.

A bit much, considering they were only dealing with someone who had self-healing powers.

According to Jim, he was amnesiac, lacked common sense, but most of the time, he was just a good kid.

That in itself sounded absurd. A good kid… from the Fallen City?

If you told him this boy would one day recover his memory, scream “Weather Report!” and turn the whole city into snails, he’d believe it.

Such was the power of stereotypes: anyone from the Fallen City must be a hard case.

“Hold on,” Jim stepped in front of Mi Xiaoliu, flustered. “You promised not to force anyone!”

“I did. I said I’d speak first—then let her decide.” The Crimson Walker offered a shrug straight out of a protagonist’s handbook. “Mi Xiaoliu, even our intelligence team couldn’t find out anything about your life before you came to this city. But one thing is certain—you have no parents, do you?”

“Hey!” Jim snapped.

The Crimson Walker waved a hand dismissively. “Relax. Let me tell you—we, most of us here, don’t have parents either. Or, we were betrayed by those we once called family or friends.”

Jim: “…??”

“Growing up in the Fallen City, surely you understand our beliefs. There are too many evildoers in this world who’ve never been punished. Think of the ones who made you feel hatred—were they ever held accountable by the law?”

Seeing that Mi Xiaoliu was unmoved, a subtle frown creased the face behind his mask. This boy, who looked about the right age for passion and idealism, seemed to lack even a trace of the fiery drive that should’ve been in his DNA.

Was he doubting their capabilities? That was the most common hurdle during recruitment.

“How about this? Let me introduce you to a few of us, then you can decide if we’re worth your time.”

He pointed to a boy with a “salaryman” mask, hands in his pockets, chewing gum with deliberate coolness.

“This is ‘The World.’ He’s Level 2. Controls staircases. If someone’s on the stairs, they can’t escape. His power is on par with spatial manipulation.”

How it worked, nobody knew.

Next, he gestured to a weirdo in a failed man-suit—with six arms.

“This is Spider-Man. He survived a horrific, inhumane experiment…”

At this, Mi Xiaoliu lifted her head to glance at the figure crouched atop a shipping container.

The man hissed like a serpent the moment their eyes met—a warning sound, like a beast spotting a natural predator.

Seeing her interest piqued, the Crimson Walker decided to elaborate.

“It all began when a rare spider escaped from a lab and was irradiated. The spider underwent a sudden mutation—and then happened to encounter a photographer from the lab. Then…”

He paused to check Spider-Man’s reaction. When none came, he continued, deadpan:

“The spider bit the researcher. After that, it discovered its body was transforming—becoming more and more like a human…”

And thus, Spider-Man was born.

Even the Crimson Walker found the story ridiculous—but oddly enough, he hadn’t made it up.

“…” Mi Xiaoliu returned to her usual blank expression.

After showcasing their elite members, the Crimson Walker began introducing the organization’s ideals—punishing all the injustices of the world.

Students bullied in school. Employees harassed at work. People who tried to bring their abusers to court, only to feel that justice had failed them.

School bullying. Workplace gaslighting. All labeled as merely immoral, not criminal.

Just last week, one of their members—a woman in her thirties—had been arrested for taking N1202. Her goal wasn’t grand, she just wanted revenge.

Her daughter, still in elementary school, had died in a DUI accident. The driver? Just went to prison. That’s it.

What the internet thought didn’t matter—spectators would never understand the rawness of her grief. To her, the driver deserved to die. At her most unhinged, she’d even wanted to kill his child right in front of him.

In the end, she only took revenge on the driver himself.

Police saw them as delusional kids with a justice complex. But their members came from every corner and age group of society—some human, some… not quite.

“I’m leaving,” Mi Xiaoliu turned again.

“Is that so? That’s a shame.” The Crimson Walker shook his head, then gestured for his people to make way. “If you have no intention of joining us, we won’t force it. Just… Please don’t tell anyone about today.”

One of the members standing in front of her took off his sunglasses and looked her straight in the eye.

In his pupils, hypnotic spirals spun like mosquito coils.

A mind-affecting ability.

Mi Xiaoliu stiffened. She turned to leave—but already, her memories of what happened near the shipping containers were starting to fade.

True to his word, the Crimson Walker hadn’t forced her to join. Even now, they could’ve wiped her will clean. But they didn’t.

By the time she got home, she’d probably be dazed for a couple of days—unable to focus on anything. Once those memories faded completely, she’d return to normal.

Jim looked left, then right, unsure whether to follow Mi Xiaoliu or stay.

“You stay, Jim,” said the Crimson Walker, pulling out a thick stack of files. “Get ready to recruit the next one.”

Despite how much he’d valued this meeting.

“Boss! People from Foboler are here!” a scout with extraordinary jumping power landed suddenly.

“Tch… How the hell did they find such a hidden place? ‘The World’ and ‘Spider-Man,’ stall them. Everyone else—evacuate.”

As Mi Xiaoliu got farther away, Sasha finally spoke:

“Master, remove Demon Eye Killer.”

Inability to focus was dangerous. She could get hit by a car just crossing the street.

Mi Xiaoliu immediately used her system space to pull off the Demon Eye Killer.

In that instant, the fog lifted—everything from earlier snapped back into clarity.

But her eyes suddenly began to burn.

It felt like a fever behind her lids, the kind of heat that made her eyeballs feel like they might burst. She reached up to touch them—nothing obvious had changed, yet the searing sensation radiated into her palms.

Unbearable.

“Master, put it back on, quick!” Sasha shouted.

She manually re-equipped the Demon Eye Killer. The heat slowly faded.

—

“I’ve arrived, but this place is weird,” Yiwen reported to the dispatcher as she finally flew into position—after circling the building more times than she could count.

Only she could fly and still get lost.

The Pseudo-Human she’d encountered hadn’t even bothered hiding—just acted like a traitor right off the bat, claiming it could lead her to another one. But she’d lost track of it after one turn, and now found herself looping around aimlessly.

The slum’s terrain was terrible. The term “pit” was fitting—because it was a pit. Walkways were about a meter lower than the buildings. She couldn’t imagine what happened when it rained.

“People here are used to this lifestyle,” the dispatcher said heavily. “Many lost their families for various reasons. Others had their jobs stolen by ability users. They’ve given up on facing society.”

“We’ve provided support—gotten some kids enrolled in public boarding schools—but even then, bullying is nearly impossible to prevent.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Yiwen’s tone turned cold. “Haven’t you noticed? None of these people are afraid of that monster.”

She studied their clothes: patch upon patch, cotton stuffing peeking out through unsewn tears. In Fanzui City’s chilly early April, that might be reasonable. But now it was May—cicadas were already singing.

“Your camera doesn’t show me everything,” the dispatcher replied, hinting for her to adjust her view.

“Ma’am, have you seen someone who looks… strange?” Yiwen asked a middle-aged woman cooking the snails.

“Huh?” The woman’s response lagged by two full seconds. She looked up, revealing a face pale as paper.

Yiwen repeated her question.

The woman grinned, showing a row of yellow teeth, and rasped out in a hoarse voice, “You look pretty strange yourself, girl.”

“Ah, well… I’m with Foboler,” Yiwen scratched her head awkwardly.

“A cop admitting she’s a cop?” the dispatcher groaned.

After greeting several more residents, Yiwen noticed something odd—they all had the same traits:

Pale skin. Slow reactions. Stiff joints. Raspy voices.

Most bizarre of all, they barely interacted with each other. Everyone looked sickly, like they were falling apart.

Could long-term living conditions explain it? Then maybe it did make sense they hadn’t noticed the Pseudo-Human.

Rubbing her temples, Yiwen looked uphill — Holy crap, was that Mi Xiaoliu?!

She looked again. It was Mi Xiaoliu!

What the hell was her desk mate, who lived way up north, doing all the way down here?!

If she didn’t know Mi Xiaoliu’s personality by now, she’d have assumed he’d joined Tian Xing Dao.

Annoyed, she stepped onto the rickety staircase leading uphill, intending to lecture her classmate for cutting school.

But a three-second climb turned into ten—and she still hadn’t reached the top.

Yiwen froze.

She turned her head—and found herself still standing at the bottom step.

A spatial ability. An attack.

Was it that little brat again?

“White Whale. I’ve heard of you.” A voice called down from above—deep, gritty, a boy in mid-voice-change.

Definitely not a girl’s voice.