Chapter 63
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Chapter 63: Sniper
“Cough, cough!”
Crimson-black blood seeped through the gloved fingers that covered her mouth.
The girl was clearly in pain.
Yiwen didn’t jump down recklessly at the first sign of trouble. The breakdown in communication had already made her wary. Something was wrong.
Aside from Mi Xiaoliu’s sudden physical collapse, Yiwen noticed something else—something even more off.
The streets shouldn’t have been this empty at this hour. Normally, in the northern part of Fanzui City, you’d still see plenty of people walking around until at least 11:30 PM—especially on main roads, which is where the girl had fled.
Though Yiwen had cursed her out a hundred times in her head—called her all sorts of things and imagined inflicting unspeakable revenge—seeing her now, crumpled and coughing blood, stirred something uncomfortable in Yiwen’s chest.
After all, this was just a girl who should still be in middle school.
Was it the work of dark-element energy? Or… something else?
No—definitely something else.
Yiwen narrowed her eyes, her gaze falling on the figure limping stiffly out from a nearby alley, shambling toward the girl.
It reminded her of the night she’d been suspended—when the police station received a bizarre call.
“There’s something—something weird! Come save me!” a man’s voice, shaking, but curiously steady in breath—not like he was running from something. Clear, unambiguous speech. Not hiding. Not fleeing.
“Hello, sir, have you been attacked by a Gifted individual?” the dispatcher asked calmly.
The term “Gifted” covered all manner of strange appearances—fur-covered bodies, horns, wings. People often used discriminatory terms like mutant, or worse—freak, monster.
“That wasn’t a Gifted!” the man insisted. “Please, just come! I don’t even know what that thing was—it was terrifying!”
The report was vague, but the department still sent two Level 2 ability users, officers. Yiwen, in a particularly foul mood that night, followed the scent and showed up, herself.
They found nothing out of the ordinary. If not for the man’s traumatized expression, they’d have dismissed it as a prank.
According to him, he’d been on the second floor of his home (A single-story flat with an iron-fenced courtyard), dutifully peeping on his neighbor’s bath through binoculars.
But when he lowered the binoculars, he saw—just at the edge of his vision—someone standing by the fence. Perfectly still. Facing him.
Strangers lingering at the gate, smoking or checking their phones, wasn’t uncommon. As long as they didn’t climb over, it wasn’t worth worrying about.
But this person did nothing. Just stood there—facing him. And their eyes… locked with him.
Outraged at being peeped on—him, of all people—he ran downstairs to grab his family’s heirloom hammer and planned to smash the pervert’s skull in.
But when he entered the yard and saw the man’s face… he screamed like a soprano on helium.
Yiwen had seen the photo he’d taken. A long-faced man, no eyebrows, with two eyes sprouting from where the forehead should be. The features—flat, like a texture sticker. The eyes were what stood out most—but everything else? Just wrong.
At first, the man thought it was looking him in the eye—but once downstairs, he realized those freakish eyes were just positioned that high up.
It had human features… yet looked nothing like a person.
Its arms were so long they reached its knees. According to the report, it stood unmoving for a long time—but just minutes before the police arrived, it began walking away in an awkward, stiff gait. One leg longer than the other. Its upper body swaying unsteadily like a puppet.
The man called it a pseudo-human, and ranted about government conspiracies. But since no crime had occurred, the case was closed—chalked up as a Gifted playing a prank.
Now, Yiwen wasn’t so sure.
Maybe pseudo-humans really did exist.
Even someone as battle-hardened as she—used to staring down the most dangerous criminals—broke out in a cold sweat when she really saw one.
Eyes and nose in all the wrong places. No mouth. Skin eerily human-like—none of that silicone feel—so convincing it almost fooled the mind into calling it “alive.”
It staggered toward Mi Xiaoliu.
From Yiwen’s system storage, a pair of handcuffs—originally prepared for the girl—materialized, piercing the creature’s chest.
Then the head. The neck. The kidneys.
No blood. No reaction.
No signs of pain.
That confirmed it for Yiwen—this thing wasn’t human.
It pulled out a bizarre suitcase, grabbed Mi Xiaoliu’s clothes, and tried to shove her inside. Even as one handcuff after another manifested inside its body, it was completely unfazed.
Yiwen, realizing the girl was in mortal danger, finally stopped watching. From beneath her cloak, she pulled out a metal sphere—shaped like a tennis ball—and hurled it with precision.
It shrieked through the air like a cannon shell.
Direct hit.
The creature flew, limbs flailing like ragdoll physics in a game engine, vanishing into the night.
Yiwen rushed over and helped Mi Xiaoliu up. Blood oozed from between her fingers, but there wasn’t much.
Poison? Or some kind of congenital illness?
“Don’t move. I’m taking you to the hospital.” But even as she said it, she could tell the girl’s consciousness was fading.
Fifty meters away, atop a clocktower, a woman in leather quietly watched the scene. She made no move to interfere.
“I’m starting to think we grabbed the wrong person. She’s way too weak.”
“She’s only weak because your ability specifically counters hers,” came the annoyed voice over her Bluetooth earpiece. “Why else would we send a lab rat like you on a field mission? Did you capture her?”
“No. Someone from Foboler—goes by ‘White Whale’—took her away.” She’d done her research on the city’s Foboler agents. “Her mask probably has anti-poison features—though only for inhaled toxins.”
“White Whale? Riels’ daughter, right? Then don’t kill her. What about Mi—did she use her ‘flame’?”
“She was taken out by a single sentinel. What a waste of preparation.” The leather-clad woman lazily stretched, dragging over a mangled pseudo-human. She sniffed the spot on its hand that had touched Mi Xiaoliu’s clothes.
Her expression melted into a sick sort of bliss. “She smells so good. I’ve decided—she’s mine. I’ll teach her, through the body, what obedience really means.”
“She’s extremely toxic. Don’t underestimate her. If she gets close, you’re dead.” The voice now sounded frustrated.
It was the tone of a gamer whose overpowered character had just been solo-killed. “That’s it? This is the boss everyone hyped up?”
“Also, that poison of yours should kill a healthy adult male in twenty seconds. Why is she still alive?”
“We used all our viruses on her in the first six years of Branch 2. She probably developed antibodies. I’ll try a new one next time.”
“They’re getting away. I’m going after them.” She hung up and dropped from the tower with gymnast-like grace.
Only to shudder midair and slam into the pavement, rolling hard. Blood and viscera scattered like a smashed watermelon.
Not what she’d planned.
She should’ve landed silently, like a cat.
Gritting her teeth, she shut off her pain receptors and checked the damage.
Her side had been blown open—golf-ball sized hole.
Using her high-tech visor, she zoomed in two kilometers away—to a half-finished building. A figure in black, gas mask over the lower face, stood on rebar. He was chambering a second round into his sniper rifle.
Despite the wound, she darted for cover, weaving erratically.
Still took a hit.
Nearly cut in two.
She lost all feeling in her legs. Without pain-dampening tech, she’d have been howling like a banshee.
Pumping herself with nutrient fluid, she dialed again. “I got sniped by Jack-of-All-Trades.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“He didn’t even bother to disguise his face! Damn it hurts!”
—
“Hey, don’t pass out—I called an ambulance.”
Yiwen gently laid the girl down and tapped her pale cheeks, applying what basic CPR she knew. She’d felt the girl’s heartbeat fading earlier while carrying her.
Please don’t die on me. If your parents come for answers, that’s going to be a real headache.
According to the Federation’s laws, anyone under 18 was a minor. Under 14? Legally incapable of distinguishing right from wrong. The penalties were as light as possible.
But the population had already plummeted from two previous catastrophes. Now, they also had to deal with Gifted crime and uncontrollable abilities.
These damn kids—using their age as a shield to do whatever they wanted.
Just a few days ago, a minor shot by the “Devil” had a body count of his own. While he lay in a coma, his family caused a scene at the station. No officer wanted something like that on their record.
Sometimes, seeing the blood on these mask-wearers’ hands, officers wanted to just shoot between the eyes. But when those masks came off…
They revealed baby faces.
“White Whale, what happened? Your signal just dropped.”
“No clue. This little brat’s dying. Hurry the ambulance up,” Yiwen panted, performing chest compressions.
She wasn’t even particularly soft. Just flat. Her ribs were right there—one wrong move and she’d crush them.
Maybe it was panic, but Yiwen felt drained—heart racing. Her breathing became labored, even for something as routine as CPR.
“Seriously, the hospital’s one street over. Why not just carry her?”
“You run it then!” she snapped, dizzy now.
“Can you wipe the lens? I can’t see her face.”
“She doesn’t have a heartbeat—do I look free?” Her arms were numb now. Motions sluggish.
“White Whale, your si—ssi—zzzz—no—si—”
Connection dropped.
Guess the fatigue was real.
Her limbs gave out. She collapsed onto Mi Xiaoliu.
The mask’s supposed to be anti-poison… How—
In the haze, Yiwen saw a figure approaching—also masked, but wearing a nun’s pure-white robe. Wrapped tight, but with scandalous proportions.
The nun nudged Yiwen’s body aside, pulled out a syringe, and injected something into Mi Xiaoliu’s vein.
Then picked her up. And walked away.
