Chapter 21
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Chapter 21: Forced To Play The Hero
Inside a battered old van sat four men in suits who looked completely out of place.
“Mr. Silver, there’s a car on our left that’s been tailing us for a while. Every time I speed up, it does too,” the driver said, glancing at the man in the passenger seat who was shuffling a deck of cards with practiced flair.
The only one dressed slightly differently—marking him as the minor boss of the group—wore what looked like the same suit at first glance, but on closer inspection, it was actually a tailcoat. A black top hat sat atop his head, his sharp nose and slicked-back mustache giving him the air of a magician ready to step on stage.
Hearing the driver’s words, he made the cards vanish with a flick of his wrist. “Turn left into the suburbs. Let’s see if they follow. The Foboler isn’t this stupid.”
The driver obeyed, and sure enough, the car tailed them—without even bothering to hide it.
It even had the audacity to ram them, forcing their van off the road and into a tree.
The driver, a black-clad enforcer, kicked the door open with a curse. “Fuck you! Damn idiot!”
“Seems like we’re dealing with ability users,” George muttered calmly, eyeing the four unharmed figures stepping out of the car. He leisurely opened his door.
“Mingxue, you might not believe in our skills yet,” he said casually, already addressing the girl by name as the other two men exited the van. “Wait here. We’ll deal with these rats, then continue our talk.”
The moment he fully stepped out, something sliced through the air with a sharp “whoosh”, piercing the front windshield and embedding itself in the rear window. At the same time, the woman in the passenger seat—who hadn’t even closed her door—slumped back into her seat, gurgling sounds escaping her throat.
Blood splattered across Lu Mingxue’s face. The sudden violence made her clamp a hand over her mouth and flatten herself against the backseat.
Embedded in the window was a simple playing card—the King of Hearts. That flimsy piece of paper had just slit a woman’s throat in an instant.
There was no time to process the loss of life. Only terror flooded her mind.
She didn’t dare watch what happened next. Even though she had assisted police in interrogations, she’d never developed a strong stomach for violence. Her job had always been observing from behind one-way glass, silently reading suspects’ thoughts and jotting down their secrets—never letting them know they’d been exposed.
The driver and George, the blond punk, roared in fury at their companion’s death. These newly awakened ability users, who’d convinced themselves they were the protagonists of the world, hadn’t prepared for a comrade to die so abruptly—so meaninglessly.
But reality was cruel. No matter how enraged they were, they didn’t have any hidden power to unleash. There wasn’t even a struggle. Maybe no one had ever taught them the meaning of overestimating oneself—but someone was teaching them now.
Lu Mingxue trembled, pressing her palm harder against her mouth, begging her body not to betray her with a whimper. In her mind, she offered fifty years of her lifespan if it meant these killers would just leave.
But like how the teacher always calls on the student who least wants to answer, the thing she feared most happened.
“Mr. Silver, there’s someone else in the car. Looks like they passed out.”
Her heart plummeted. That bastard George hadn’t even closed the door when he left, so her legs were plainly visible.
At that moment, she already considered whether groveling might save her. Pride wasn’t something she could afford.
“They think I’m unconscious. Please, just go!”
“Hmm? Light the whole thing up. No lakes around here anyway,” Mr. Silver decided.
“No!”
She scrambled out of the van in a panic, not even thinking about whether escape was possible—fear had overridden logic.
“Wait! I’m useful! I can read minds—!”
It was the most humiliating plea of her life.
People watching TV might sneer at those who beg for mercy, but in the face of death, how many could truly spit out “Kill me” with defiance? The will to survive was something even some suicidal people couldn’t overcome.
She didn’t offer anything like “I’ll do anything if you spare me”—not out of modesty, but because she knew she didn’t have the looks or charm to bargain with. She hadn’t even shaved her legs properly these past few days. Who’d notice under black stockings anyway?
Dropping to her knees in the same motion she’d mentally rehearsed in class earlier, she stammered, “I can see what others—”
“Look, she’s awake after all,” Mr. Silver chuckled, flicking a black Joker toward her.
The card cut through the air like a bullet, embedding itself in the smooth skin of her throat. Blood welled around the edges.
At that exact moment, Mi Xiaoliu, who happened to be passing by, raised a hand—stopping the card midair as it thunked harmlessly against her shoulder.
She turned her head slowly.
Mr. Silver blinked, stunned. He hadn’t expected some hero-saves-the-damsel nonsense to actually happen—especially when he hadn’t even monologued like those cheesy villains on TV, explaining his powers, his motives, his dreams.
Mi Xiaoliu plucked the card from her shoulder. The blood that had welled up vanished instantly, the wound sealing itself.
“That stung a little.”
“Sasha, I want to hit them.”
“Master is the master. Sasha can only advise, not command…” Sasha sighed. “But they do look like bad guys.”
Before she even finished speaking, Mi Xiaoliu had already kicked one of the black-suited men so hard he flew into a field, landing headfirst like a discarded scarecrow.
Mr. Silver didn’t just stand there. Cards flew from his hands like a storm, his wrists a blur. Though she dodged, the sheer force behind them sliced the trees behind her into segments.
Lu Mingxue, still crouched with her hands over her head, shrieked.
Mr. Silver backpedaled rapidly, but his three subordinates couldn’t even buy him time before they, too, experienced the joy of unplanned flight.
“Foboler?” he muttered, eyeing the black-robed figure who seemed to be a physical-enhancement ability user. Not too strong, judging by the build.
Then their van flew at his face like a cannonball.
“Oh.”
“This was bad.”
“Why’d you stop?” The voice in Mi Xiaoliu’s earpiece belonged to Sister Hermit. “Don’t linger. That guy isn’t the Night Demon. I’m sending you to a new location.”
Her phone vibrated twice—warm against her skin in the chilly air.
Hermit: [Image]
Hermit: [Location]
A meticulously drawn sketch showed an unbranded sedan driving down a suburban road, with map coordinates below.
LV3 Psychography—Sister Hermit’s ability.
At its current level, she could sketch a target’s real-time situation and location just by knowing their appearance.
Glancing at Mr. Silver—now pinned under the van, leaving a long smear of blood—and then at Lu Mingxue (Still sitting on the ground, legs trembling, an unidentifiable liquid darkening her skirt), Mi Xiaoliu turned and cut across the field toward the new coordinates.
Lu Mingxue: “……”
Was that… being saved by the hero? Or was it the beauty rescuing the ugly duckling?
She didn’t kill me. That girl didn’t kill me… she even saved me.
Right before leaving, she was thinking about how many steamed buns a million dollars could buy.
Her head still buzzed with residual terror. The bodies on the ground and in the van were real, the stench of blood and… other things thick in the air. (Okay, the other things might be me.)
One second later, and she’d have made it a full mahjong table of corpses. Did that really cost me fifty years of lifespan?
Forcing herself to stand on shaky legs, she turned—only to find the magician who’d been crushed under the van gone.
Without a second thought, she bolted into the cornfield, damp underwear, skirt, and stockings be damned, and didn’t dare emerge for a long, long time.
My phone got confiscated by that fat bastard. I can’t even call the cops.
