Chapter 86

Chapter 86: Let’s Pretend We Don’t Know Each Other

“Bro, can I stop doing recruitment stuff from now on? It’s too much. Old Liu won’t even talk to me in class anymore,” Jim negotiated with the Crimson Walker.  

Though, to be fair, Mi Xiaoliu had never initiated a conversation with him.  

Regardless of the outcome, he had tricked him (her) into joining.  

“No worries, no worries. Every member of our organization enjoys full freedom. Your dad’s a civil servant, right?”  

Jim’s father was actually a psychic (ability user) officer, but his public identity was that of a government employee.  

“Yeah, why?”  

“Just asking.” The Crimson Walker waved a hand. “We’ve had some FBI moles sneaking in lately. I was wondering how our movements got exposed.”  

“There are moles? People like that deserve to be torn limb from limb!” A girl beside them fumed.  

“Damn right! Absolute scum! If I catch one, I’ll shove their head up their—!” A burly guy chimed in.  

“What’s wrong, Jim? You feeling hot?”  

The Crimson Walker noticed Jim tugging at his pajamas like he was sweating.  

“Ah, no… I just noticed this AC unit was installed wrong.” Jim hastily changed the subject. “Spending thousands on a machine only to mount it outside? Anyone could steal it. So dumb.”  

“Hmm…”  

The Crimson Walker stared at the external exhaust fan Jim was pointing at, pondered for two seconds, and concluded—  

Jim couldn’t possibly be a mole.  

The police wouldn’t send someone this dense undercover.  

The hideout of the “Tian Xing Dao” group wasn’t fixed, but it wasn’t easy to find either.  

On normal days, they didn’t parade around in conspicuous outfits, so to outsiders, they just looked like students hanging out.  

But this approach had a major flaw—one traitor could expose them all.  

Tonight’s gathering was in an abandoned gas station in the old district, deserted since last month when radical members clashed with the FBI and someone blew up the fuel tank.  

There were casualties, but the radicals considered it a “necessary sacrifice” for their cause.  

“Bro, someone dismantled all my in-game items yesterday. Does the organization offer any, y’know, data recovery perks?” Jim didn’t forget his actual mission from his dad.  

The Crimson Walker laughed. “Haha, the last mole we caught asked the exact same thing. If I didn’t know you couldn’t be one, I’d suspect you too.”  

Jim: “…”  

He forced an awkward chuckle.  

“If your account got hacked, we might help recover it,” a curvy girl cut in. “We’ve got a tech guy, but he’s limited. Not that he’s unskilled—just that some hacker’s been dominating game data lately.”  

She meant the one who’d wiped federal records.  

Some spent years mastering skills, while others reached the top just by awakening an ability—a key reason normals resented psychics.  

Jim’s mission was to find this hacker. Police suspected they were young and linked to Tian Xing Dao, but… maybe they were wrong?  

“That guy? We ran into him gaming once, tried recruiting him,” the Crimson Walker said darkly. “His reply wasn’t… pleasant.”  

He’d insulted everything from their ideology to members’ ages and education, even mocking some for their degrees. If they could’ve reached through the screen, he’d have been added to the list.  

Typing like an edgy kid (“This daddy” that, “Your mom” this), his mental age was clearly stuck at elementary level.  

A talentless, morally bankrupt hacker that powerful was dangerous. If found, he had to be “cleaned up.”  

“Night’s here. Move out—call Spider-Man,” the Crimson Walker donned his red cloak.  

But got an unexpected reply: “Boss… Spider-Man’s been acting weird since yesterday.”  

“What’s wrong?”  

“He’s curled up shivering in a corner. Maybe his spider-sense detected danger.”  

A member wheeled out the trash can hiding “Spider-Man.” With six arms and a not-quite-human face, it never appeared in public outside missions.  

Now, it crouched inside, six hands clutching its head, trembling violently.  

The name was partly a joke, but its abilities were eerily similar to the superhero’s—weaker strength, but some traits even sharper.  

Like its spider-sense.  

“Click-clack.”

The sound of hard soles on tile cut through the air.  

With a screech, Spider-Man erupted from the can and bolted.  

“Who’s there?!”  

Ignoring the deserter, the group formed a defensive circle.  

Then—darkness.  

Not the world, but their vision.  

“Click-clack…”

The footsteps grew closer.  

————————  

“Holy— Durian 14?! You’re loaded! I begged my mom for ages and she still won’t buy me one!” Toby gaped, dropping his cool guy act to plop beside Mi Xiaoliu.  

Who knew this dorky kid, mom brought home, would whip out a Durian 14? Had to be a knockoff—his whole outfit looked cheaper than a $50 bill.  

“What games you play? Lemme see.” He reached for it.  

Mi Xiaoliu stared blankly, unsure why his hand was out. Thinking he meant to flick her forehead, she scrambled back.  

Flushing, Toby pretended to scratch his nose. “Tch. Whatever.” Probably a fake anyway.  

“She’s my client’s d—son. Staying with us for a few days. Play nice, don’t bully him,” Raven said, ruffling Mi Xiaoliu’s hair while masking her own family’s tension.  

She’d noticed the flinch—same as with Dias. Did the girl fear boys? Bullied in school, maybe…  

“Who’s bullying him?” Toby muttered.  

Guy acted like a scared little girl. Meanwhile, he’d gotten slapped for nothing. Not that he’d ever hit back—no matter how big he got, his sister’s smacks were law.  

At 13-14, boys start outgrowing girls. Before that, female classmates often towered over them. By 15-16, most girls stop growing.  

Toby and Mi Xiaoliu were both 13, similar in height—no one would guess she was a girl.  

Raven glanced at Yiwen, quietly eating. Weekends were rare times she was home, but since meeting Mi Xiaoliu, she’d been silent. Clearly still disliked outsiders.  

“I’m done.” Yiwen stood and left.  

The bra incident was barely smoothed over, but remembering the socks—  

I wanna die.

Back in her room, Mi Xiaoliu curiously peeled off her socks and sniffed them.  

…No smell.  

Weird.  

But Yiwen liked it.  

So weird.

She knocked on Yiwen’s door and solemnly offered her socks.  

Yiwen: “…”  

Never speak to me again. Let’s pretend we don’t know each other.