《Superhunt》


 Chapter 1: Dispossessor 331

    <h4>Chapter 1: Dispossessor 331</h4>


    Jonathan was awakened by a notification on his phone. Groggy, he fumbled for his phone under his pillow, squinting, he struggled to read the message illuminated on the screen.


    "First beta yer list for ''Red Soil'' released!"


    "Really?"


    "Posted three minutes ago on the official site [Image]."


    "Damn! Who is so lucky?"


    "Just 10,000 for the first round of beta testing? From a global pool, isn''t that ridiculously exclusive?"


    When the sleepiness had passed, he recalled he''d registered for this beta test, egged on by his ssmates. He had filled out a questionnaire on the official website, which was already ten months ago.


    At that time, the trailer for "Red Soil" had just been released. The promotional gimmick was "a revolutionary holographic game, a real second world".


    The trailer immediately attracted the attention of gamers worldwide. The selling points of the game were the open world for free exploration and the multiple career path choices. Moreover, this was a game thatbined cyberpunk and super ability elements.


    yers could either follow the technology route and be a cyborg with mechanical limbs, or follow the superpower route and awaken a variety of strange abilities.


    It was based on reality but above reality, carried an unparalleled sense of reality as if it were connected to the real world. What really attracted Jonathan was thest two sentences of the game''s introduction.


    "Light always births darkness. Beneath the veneer of a prosperous city lurks a decadent underbelly."


    "Compared to money and power, survival and death are the eternal propositions of that world."


    Since the introduction said so... perhaps "Red Soil", in addition to the selling points of cyberpunk style and supernatural abilities, also added a bit of a dark core?


    Jonathan opened the screenshot in the chat group and took a look. The game''s official would send an invitation email for beta testing to the yer''s mailbox.


    The first batch of beta testers really only had 10,000 people. Testingmenced tomorrow.


    When "Red Soil" first announced its pre-registration, it amassed ten million eager yers in a single day. Monthster, that number had surged past the hundred million mark. To pick out 10,000 lucky ones from this teeming ocean of gamers to join the beta test, the probability of being chosen was incredibly small. Despite not having much hope, Jonathan still opened his mailbox to check.


    "You have one unread email."


    His heart rate elerated, and he suddenly sprang up from the bed.


    "Congrattions on your qualification for the beta test of the game ''Red Soil''."


    The email title was in prominent red.


    Jonathan looked bewildered, repeatedly checking the sender, andparing it back and forth with the email ount announced by the official, unbelievably confirming it again and again. When he finally confirmed that this email was indeed from the official, the first thought that came to his mind was - I''m going to be rich! I''m going to be rich!! Selling this beta testing qualification would definitely fetch a good sum of money!


    He was ecstatic!


    His life hadn''t been kind. With a father who gambled away their savings and ran off and a mother who remarried and sent him a meager monthly allowance of two hundred dors, Jonathan had learned to scrape by.


    The second-hand smartphone he had was bought with money he earned working at a convenience store. He lived alone in an old house left by his grandparents, rising early and studyingte into the night, like a stubborn weed, struggling to survive.


    Jonathan was going to college after this summer break. His grades were good, and he got into a good university, but the tuition and living expenses were a concern. If he could sell the beta testing qualification of "Red Soil" that could ensure he could livefortably for a while.


    However, the subsequent line in the email dashed his hopes.


    "''Red Soil''s'' beta testing privileges are non-transferable and non-giftable. Your beta invitation code is bound to your registration information and cannot be altered. This beta test is free, and all game data will not be deleted."


    Jonathan''s face fell. His money-making n was brutally cut short. He didn''t really care about the game, his equipment was so poor that he didn''t even have a holographic helmet, so he couldn''t y at all. He''d merely applied for the beta test on a whim, mostly thinking "What if the beta testing qualification could be sold, that would be a big win".


    He thought about it and felt sad that he was still a poor and unfortunate guy, even though he was one of the limited 10,000 lucky ones globally. Having won the beta testing qualification but not being able to experience the game was akin to sitting atop a treasure mountain without the means to spend a dime, a bitterly ironic predicament.


    He sighed and scrolled down to continue reading. The content of the email was concise and uninformative. As Jonathan scrolled to the end, he was pleasantly surprised to find a line, "If the yer agrees to join the game, the gamepany will provide the yer with specially made game equipment."


    Awesome!


    His worries were resolved, and he could y the game! His mood was like a roller coaster ride.


    At the end of the email was a link to a yer questionnaire survey. He clicks on the link out of curiosity.


    Question one: If you were given a chance to greet a new life, would you ept it?


    Jonathan chose "yes" without hesitation.


    A new life meant a fresh start, and his current life was already bad enough. How much worse could it get?


    Question two: Do you believe in deities in the world?


    Jonathan chose "no". He was a firm atheist.


    Question three: Do you want to have superpowers?


    "Yes"! Wanting superpowers did not conflict with his being an atheist!


    "You havepleted the questionnaire."


    "Game-rted documents and precautions have been sent to your mailbox, please check."


    "An anonymous forum for beta testers has been opened for you. Please bookmark the URL and register promptly."


    Jonathan carefully read the new message and saved the URL of the anonymous forum for beta testers as instructed. Beta test details were typically considered trade secrets, with any leaks strictly forbidden. Beta testers were primarily employed to help detect bugs and game exploits. It appeared "Red Soil''s" creators set up a forum to facilitate tester discussions.


    With only 10,000 beta testers selected, so the content in the forum should be very limited. He was amongst the first wave of pioneers. Rather than diving right into the beta forum, Jonathan chose to open his new emails and scrutinize the newly received game files. Typically, these files required a yer''s signature, much like a legal contract, and any vitions could lead to legal consequences.


    He opened the new email and was taken aback by its initial lines.


    "Six pieces of advice for ''Red Soil'' yers. Follow them or ignore them is up on you, but remember, the consequences of your choices are yours alone."


    "First, treat the game world as a real world."


    "Second, do not reveal your yer identity to anyone."


    "Third, do not reveal the game content to anyone."


    "Fourth, life only has one chance, there are no respawns"


    "Fifth, if you choose to start the game, you only have two paths: pleting the game'' or ''character death''."


    "Sixth, everything has a price."


    That''s it... just these few lines? Is it a bit too hasty to only send these few lines in the game statement?


    Jonathan was bewildered. Such an air of mystery for a game seemed rather exaggerated. No doubt, the "real world" reference was merely a marketing strategy, and everyone knows that the world is fake.


    He opened the game document, which required his digital signature. He read it carefully from beginning to end, and even after reading it twice, he didn''t find any confidentiality uses.


    But the previous "Six pieces of advice for yers" clearly stated not to reveal game content. It''s too strange, isn''t this contradictory?


    If they don''t want yers to reveal, why not write the confidentiality agreement into the legally binding file? Those few pieces of advice have no binding force at all.


    At the end of the file was an electronic signature field. Jonathan wrote his name in the signature field.


    No sooner had hepleted his signature, than a small pop-up appeared with bold red letters - "Are you sure you want to join the game? You have only one chance to withdraw."."


    Only one chance to quit?


    Jonathan didn''t care much about it and confirmed without hesitation.


    The page changed, and a new prompt appeared.


    "Contractpleted."


    "Wee to your rebirth, Jonathan."


    ...What''s with this game being so weird? Jonathan stared at theputer screen in bewilderment.


    After pondering for a while, he opened the beta anonymous forum, clicked register, and the registration process was surprisingly simple, all it took was the beta invitation code.


    In the nickname column, he casually typed the number "331". All of his game nicknames were "331", he didn''t have much talent foring up with names, and the ones he came up with were easily duplicated. So, Jonathan stuck with "331" for everything.


    "Nicknames cannot be changed once confirmed."


    Jonathan didn''t mind and clicked "confirm" as usual.


    A new message popped up.


    "You have be the 331st yer to register in the forum."


    Jonathan: "Huh?"


    What a coincidence, was 331 his lucky number?


    After a brief loading, Jonathan saw the forum page.


    The background color of the forum had a cold metallic sheen, the page was exceptionally simple, and the functions were also very monotonous, offering just the barebones - posting, replying, and private messaging. In the forum''s upper right corner, a stark, blood-red "10000" caught his eye.


    Next to the "10000" was a line of small words - "Number of survivors".


    For some reason, Jonathan''s heart twitched and he felt palpitations when he saw the words "Number of survivors".


    The forum teemed with posts, all freshly stamped "new". With the forum newly established and yers just registering, every single post was brand-new. Jonathan refreshed the page and saw another batch of posts. Titles sshed across the screen in English, Japanese, Russian, and Chinese. The 10,000 yers from all over the world were gathered in this small forum.


    Jonathan could barely trante the meaning of the French title, but as for othernguages, he waspletely unable to understand them. He quickly nced at the existing English posts and found that the titles were all things like "Let''s get started", "Any yers from Brooklyn? Let''s meet up", and "My name will be in the top hundred posts"... all the nonsense posts.


    He contemted for a moment, then clicked to create a new post, and in the title typed, "Does anyone else find the ''Six pieces of advice for yers'' a bit strange?"


    After typing the title, Jonathan''s cursor hovered over the post button. Remembering the advice, "Please treat the game world as a real world," and the following "Life only has one chance, death cannot be revived," then looking at the bloody number "10000" at the top of the forum, he felt like something struck deep in his mind.


    He suddenly felt a sense of horror but didn''t know where this feeling of dread wasing from.


    The feeling came suddenly and was almost absurd.


    Jonathan rubbed his forehead.


    How could the plot of "entering a Holographic game is traveling to a real world" from fantasy novels happen in reality? Even though he tried to reassure himself, Jonathan still deleted his post and keep lurking and observing.


    He kept refreshing the forum, reading each English post. A few minutester, a new post caught his attention.


    "The gamepany hasn''t mentioned anything about how to deliver the game equipment, has anyone received the game helmet or some package?"


    The moment he saw this post, there was a knock at Jonathan''s door. He instinctively stood up, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole, but didn''t see anyone.


    After a few minutes of cautious waiting, he tentatively opened the door to discover a small, ck box resting on the ground. There was on the box - "Red Soil".


    Jonathan opened the box and found a silver metal card inside. The pattern on the card wasplex but delicate, the intertwined lines forming a mechanical hand.


    "Is this... a gamememorative card?" Jonathan examined the card and then shivered. He remembered that he had never filled in his address information on the official game website, so how was this card delivered?


    Jonathan''s heart tightened, and he dashed downstairs in his slippers. He lived in an old neighborhood. The facilities were old, but there were surveince cameras nearby. A few homeless were sitting at the entrance of the building, all familiar faces. Jonathan asked, "Did the delivery guye by just now?"


    "Nope, doesn''t the delivery guy usuallye around three in the afternoon?" One of them responded, shaking his head.


    "Did anyonee up just now?" Jonathan continued to ask.


    "No one." the man was busy eating the sandwich he just got from the garbage can and shook his head again.


    Hearing this, even though it was a hot day, Jonathan felt a chill down his back. If no one hade by, then who had knocked on his door? He had never filled out any address information, so why was the game card from "Red Soil" urately delivered to his doorstep?


    It had been merely five minutes since he signed the game agreement and then this card arrived...


    Jonathan nced at the silver card in his hand, flipping it to reveal etched words on the back.


    "Dispossessor Jonathan. Number 331."


    331 was the game nickname he had just filled out, and it was also his forum registration number. He felt a chill run down his spine.


    The situation was developing in a strange and eerie direction.

 Chapter 2: "Are you awake?"

    <h4>Chapter 2: "Are you awake?"</h4>


    Jonathan curled up in bed, staring at the glowing screen of his phone.


    Despite thete hour, sleep eluded him. The day''s peculiar events sent shivers down his spine, forbidding any chance of sleep.


    Throughout the day, Jonathan kept refreshing the forum, reading posts made by beta yers.


    He didn''t understand the posts in othernguages, so he tried to take screenshots and trante them using an app. However, his phone indicated that screenshots were prohibited on the webpage. Jonathan had to write down it and then take a photo to trante.


    As registration numbers climbed, so did the frequency of posts, and many people shared their confusion. People had started questioning the "Six Point Announcement for yers" and the ominous "10,000 survivors" count pinned at the forum''s top.


    yers are receiving game cards one after another. Just like Jonathan, some had never provided their addresses to the game''s official site, yet the cards had miraculously found their way to their doorsteps.


    Jonathan clicked on the English post with the highest number of replies.


    OP: "Even though we live in the era of big data where privacy is almost non-existent, isn''t it too much for the game officials to act this way? If the officials do not respond to the issue of address acquisition, I don''t mind taking legal action."


    A chorus of agreement echoed in thements.


    But then someone replied: "I think something is off, it''s like it''s haunted. I live in the countryside where deliveries are rare, but guess how I received my game card? My cat brought it home after a wander outside. I took a look and it turned out to be my game card, with my real name and forum number on it. It''s just crazy!"


    24l: "I also live in the countryside, I found the card when I was collecting eggs from the chicken coop, it gave me a shock..."


    36l: "I ordered an appliance from Amazon. When I opened the package, there was an extra box. I thought it was a bonus from the seller, but it turned out to be the game card!"


    The situation was not only outrageous but also eerie.


    The forum number is based on the registration order on the forum, and it takes time to make the card. How could it be possible for the card to be ready and delivered immediately after someone just finished registering and got their number? Moreover, the ways yers received their cards varied greatly, and an inexplicable eerie atmosphere enveloped everyone.


    Jonathan exited the post and clicked on another card-sharing post. The poster had mosaiced their real name and yer number before showcasing the card


    The card in the post differed slightly from Jonathan''s. The pattern on the silver card in the post was not a mechanical hand, but a pair of scissors, a pair that looked incredibly sharp.


    Whereas Jonathan''s card bore the prefix "Dispossessor", this poster''s card disyed "Walker".


    Why was there a difference? What separated a Dispossessor from a Walker?


    Puzzled, Jonathan furrowed his brows.


    As he browsed the forum for a while, he noticed something. Every card-sharing post he''d seen carried the "Walker" prefix. Not a single one was a "Dispossessor" like his.


    Jonathan retrieved his own card from the bedside table. It shimmered silver, and his real name and yer number were inscribed on it. It was like his ID, with a name and an identification number, but the only thing he didn''t understand was the meaning of the word "Dispossessor".


    The events of this day left him feeling like he was in a mist.


    He nced at the time, 23:59, less than a minute before midnight, the official beta testing day was about to begin. Heaving a sigh, Jonathan rubbed his temples, exhausted, preparing to sleep as he needed to find a summer part-time job to earn money the next day...


    The life of a poor guy was just so in and dull.


    Just as he was about to put his phone away, it buzzed with a notification. He looked at it and saw that the forum had posted a new announcement.


    "Detection of 10,000 beta yers has beenpleted, and game identity cards have been issued."


    "This beta test will not charge any fees and will not delete data. There are no shortcuts in the game. Please remember the six pieces of advice and explore your own ending.


    "Wishing all yers a happy gaming experience. Now, the game begins."


    Does the game begin?!


    Jonathan was thrown off by this abrupt statement.


    He froze, barely processing the change when his surroundings abruptly shifted.


    Suddenly, his hand felt empty, the weight of the phone disappeared, and he was no longer lying on his bed, standing in an enveloping darkness, he couldn''t see anything when he looked up, nor could he hear any sound. His worn-out house with its peeling walls had disappeared, the window, faintly lit by the streetlight, was nowhere to be found, and the fan''s soft whirring had ceased. Everything was eerily calm.


    Darkness enveloped Jonathan like a tide, swallowing him bit by bit. His instincts screamed for him to call out, to seek help, but like a person drowning, no sound escaped his lips.


    Finally, his consciousness slipped away.


    ...


    "You have entered a new world."


    "Please check your identity settings in this world."


    "Name: Jonathan


    Faction: Federation��Resistance


    Identity: Core member of the Mechanical Dawn Organization, probationary patrol security officer of the seventh squad of the Federation Investigation Department''s field group, federal first-level wanted a criminal, undercover agent for the resistance.


    Mission: Steal confidential information from the Investigation Department, gain the trust of the Investigation Department, and provide intelligence support for the secret operations of the Mechanical Dawn."


    An indistinct, electronic voice resonated in his ears, and in the blur, he seemed to see a series of texts shing before his eyes...


    Jonathan gasped in pain, feeling a splitting headache. It was as though an axe had cleaved through his skull, the pain so intense he felt his head would burst.


    "Suture needle." a man''s voice drifted from nearby, "Stitch his wound. Give him another dose of the special painkiller; he won''tst much longer otherwise."


    Was he on an operating table? Jonathan couldn''t open his eyes, but his consciousness was surprisingly clear.


    Jonathan felt a sharp needle pierce his arm. The medicine was injected into his body. The painkiller was very effective and worked quickly, relieving his headaches.


    He wasn''t dreaming; no dream had ever given him such a clear feeling.


    Jonathan understood that his current situation was absolutely abnormal, and his experience was againstmon sense. Perhaps, he thought, he had indeed encountered the scene of fantasy novels and films - time travel.


    He had been whisked away from his humble abode and dropped into an unknown location.


    The painkiller shot just now had alleviated Jonathan''s physical pain, which allowed him to focus on thinking. Anxiety and panic gnawed at him, but he knew those feelings would not assist him. He had to remain calm.


    The beta forum for "Red Soil" announced the start of the game, and then he suddenly changed locations.


    Jonathan suspected he had been transported into the game world of "Red Soil".


    His identity in this world was something different.


    Jonathan focused his mind, and a light screen flickered to life in his pitch-ck vision.


    Disyed on the screen were the same identity settings he''d heard just moments ago �� "Core member of the Mechanical Dawn Organization, probationary patrol security officer of the seventh squad of the Federation Investigation Department''s field group, federal first-level wanted criminal, undercover agent for the rebels.."


    Well, this... seemed like a ratherplex identity.


    He read it over and over again, feeling helpless.


    He didn''t understand what the Mechanical Dawn Organization was, but the term "core member" was enough for the importance. And then there''s the Federation Investigation Department...this should be an official organization. What''s worse, he actually had another identity as a federal first-level wanted criminal, what the hell was that?


    The identity of an undercover agent for the rebels, which sounded very dangerous, made him even more anxious.


    Being an undercover agent was a dead-end job!


    Jonathan had watched countless spy movies, and undercover agents rarely had good endings. He felt his future was bleak, and a miserable end was beckoning to him.


    The tter of medical instruments echoed in the room. Jonathan could vaguely sense the suture needle drilling in and out of his flesh, tugging at his flesh. His heartbeat gradually became steady and regr from the intensity when he first regained consciousness, his brain was turning, and his emotions were calming down through thinking.


    After a while, Jonathan suddenly felt he could control his eyelids, and the effect of the anesthesia was fading.


    The man who had been operating on him said, "The drug is wearing off, he should be waking up soon."


    Jonathan had to abandon the idea of continuing to feign unconsciousness. He cautiously slit open his eyelids. The ring brightness made him squint, and a silver light source incessantly shed in his line of sight.


    He blinked hard, adjusting to the light for a while, and found that the shing silver light was not amp, but the reflection from the main surgeon''s sses. He shifted his head slightly, rolling his eyes to take in the doctors and nurses surrounding him.


    "Are you awake?" The bespectacled doctor nodded at Jonathan, "The operation was very sessful."


    Jonathan decided to pretend to be lost memory. He feigned confusion, "What...what happened to me?"


    The doctor''s face softened, tinged with pity. "Poor kid, you''re really unlucky. You encountered armed criminals on your first field assignment during your probationary period... Ah, they got away, but you suffered a skull fracture..."


    "Skull...fracture?" Jonathan''s face was puzzled, but he was secretly overjoyed.


    A skull fracture, such a serious injury, he could logically pretend to have amnesia! Having crossed over without inheriting the original body''s memory, he could easily reveal himself if he wasn''t careful.


    "Yes, skull fracture, a big hole in your head, blood gushing out." The doctor reassured him gently, "But it''s alright, we reced the old with the new."


    "What do you mean, reced the new?" Jonathan asked in confusion, "Sorry, I seem to forget a lot of things..."


    "It''s normal to be a bit confused for a while, it will get better after the anesthetic wears off. Your skull fracture was quite serious and difficult to repair, so we reced that part of your skull." exined the doctor cheerfully, "Thetest technology of the Federation, ultra-light alloy skull, Once reced, you''ll never have to worry about getting your head cracked open when you go out on field duty to catch criminals!"


    "???"

 Chapter 3: All for the Dawn

    <h4>Chapter 3: All for the Dawn</h4>


    After the operation, Jonathan was pushed out of the operating room by the doctors and nurses. The wheeled bed automatically slid on the metal floor, and The corridor bathed in a dim blue glow was full of a sense of unreality. After turning a corner, a tightly sealed metal door opened, and Jonathan, along with the bed, was pushed into a capsule-shaped recuperation pod.


    The main surgeon had already changed out of his surgical gown and put on a white coat, and there was an identity badge on his coat - "Neil, Director of the Medical Office."


    Doctor Neil inserted an IV into Jonathan''s hand, closed the ss cover of the recuperation pod, and said to him, "Rest well, your wound is expected to heal within twelve hours. If you feel ufortable, just press the green call button to your right. I have another operation to do, so I''ll go first."


    Jonathan nodded silently.


    The doctors and nurses left, and Jonathan was alone in the room.


    Lying in the recuperation pod, he observed the flickering data on the built-in monitor of the pod. With the consistent beeping of the machine, the ECG was constantly fluctuating, and the heart rate was maintained between 80 and 110. The blood pressure was a little low, and the status was mild anemia. All his physical data was disyed on it.


    "Red Soil" leans towards a cyberpunk world, so the technology in this world is much higher than in Jonathan''s real world. The technologically filled recuperation pod doesn''t seem like something that Earth''s technology level could produce.


    Jonathan was so seriously injured, but the doctor told him that his wound could heal in twelve hours, such medical technology is also beyond the reach of Earth.


    The slogan of "Red Soil" is "A Second World That Truly Exists".


    Entering the game is like opening the door to a second world. This slogan is not at all exaggerated, Jonathan had indeed crossed over. He was wondering if the ten thousand yers who participated in the internal test with him also crossed over to this world like him, having a different identity and a new life from the real world?


    Jonathan is very adaptable to various environments. He is as tough as a weed and can take good care of himself even without his parents. Now he has switched to apletely new environment. This environment is unfamiliar to him, but Jonathan optimistically believes that although his identity in the game isplex and dangerous, he still has a rtively stable start.


    His present identity was that of a patient, a rookie security officer who was injured by a viin while on an internship. During his healing period, he is safe and can temporarily stay away from some troubles. And his injury is on his head, feigning amnesia is a cliched method, but it works.


    This gave Jonathan ample buffer time.


    As to why he crossed over, the question was too deep and far, and Jonathan does not have the ability to get to the bottom of it. The very urgent problem in front of him is how to survive.


    The six pieces of advice were deeply imprinted in Jonathan''s mind.


    "First, treat the game world as a real world."


    "Second, do not reveal your identity as a yer to anyone."


    "Third, do not disclose game content to anyone."


    "Fourth, life only has one chance, death cannot be resurrected."


    "Fifth, if you choose to start the game, then you only have two paths to choose from, ''game clearance'' or ''character death''."


    "Sixth, everything has a price."


    The fourth and fifth points can be looked at together, highlighting the "death". Life only has one chance, this sentence could very well not be a joke.


    If the game world is regarded as the second world, then the reality in which the yer is located can be called the first world. If one dies in the second world, will they also die in the first world?


    The price of death is something that no one can bear, and Jonathan felt the pressure - the pressure to survive.


    He has twelve hours of healing time. After twelve hours, he has to step out of the recuperation pod and have face-to-face contact with people in the second world.


    ording to hisplex identity, he may need to frequently interact with a rebel organization called "Mechanical Dawn", strive to climb up in the investigation department to gain everyone''s trust, and be a qualified undercover to hide his identity and pass on information for the organization...


    Jonathan had a buffer time, but it felt as if he had drawn the short straw from the get-go. Every step had to be calcted, as if he were skating on thin ice, the slightest misstep spelling disaster. Were the other yers as unlucky?


    The healing pod hummed, casting blue light over his body, and the healing potion was injected into his veins. Jonathan felt a tingling sensation on his scalp, and his wound was healing rapidly.


    "Check...check the panel?" Jonathan tentatively said in his mind.


    The game system responded to him, the holographic screen flickering to life, and familiar words appeared.


    He bypassed the repeatedly read basic identity settings, shifting his attention to another section...


    Basic Attributes


    Name: Jonathan


    Profession: Dispossessor


    Extraordinary Ability: Not Acquired


    Inherent Talent:


    Performer Personality - You are a superb actor and can fool most people.


    Life Tenacity - You have a tenacious vitality like a weed.


    Danger Avoidance - You can keenly perceive and avoid dangers around you.


    Fast Learning - You can learn any skill with half the effort.


    The profession is a Dispossessor? What does the Dispossessor represent?


    The system timely reminded "Dispossessor, a profession that relies on hunting special ability men to take away their superpowers to grow stronger."


    Rely on killing extraordinary-ability men to acquire superpowers? Kill a person with extraordinary abilities, and then the other person''s superpowers will be transferred to oneself?


    Jonathan was shaken, and his heart rate index on the healing pod''s monitor rose rapidly.


    "Heart rate abnormal, heart rate abnormal..." The healing pod emitted a beeping rm sound.


    Jonathan immediately took deep breaths in session to stabilize his heartbeat. After about ten seconds, the rm sound of the healing pod stopped. He was just about to carefully ponder the fierce profession of the Dispossessor, but the next moment, the light in his room went out.


    The metal door creaked open, someone stepped in, Jonathan turned his head, looking at the doorway through the transparent ss.


    Doctor Neil slowly approached, wiping his sses, knocking on the ss cover, and smiling at Jonathan, "How do you feel?"


    Jonathan opened his mouth to say, "I seem to have lost my memory."


    However, Doctor Neil opened the healing pod, took out a blue chip from his wristwatch, and stuffed it into Jonathan''s hand, whispering, "This is something the organization asked me to give you."


    What? What organization, which organization? Can you make it clear?


    Suspicion red within Jonathan. Was the amiable Doctor Neil in front of him also undercover?


    Doctor Neil nodded at Jonathan, "I don''t hold high authority and I''m not privy to your mission. For future endeavors, if you require anything, inform me. I''ll cooperate to the best of my abilities."


    Jonathan didn''t know how to respond, he could only watch him expressionlessly.


    "There''s also this, this is the life information of the person you''re currently recing, please make sure to look carefully, some small life habits are the hardest to mimic and the easiest to expose. Fortunately, the person you''re ying is a neer intern, not familiar with everyone, so it won''t be difficult to rece him." Doctor Neil took out another ck chip and a silver-white bracelet, "The organization''smunicator is here, they''ll contact you through this."


    "...ok," Jonathan responded indifferently. The more he said, the more mistakes he could make, so he decided to keep quiet.


    "Sigh, you really made a big sacrifice." Doctor Neil sighed, "You even chose to hit your head to fabricate the wound and underwent a voluntary mechanical modification surgery... Don''t worry, that person has been dealt with by the organization, and his gic information and life trajectory have also been modified. From now on, you are the patrol security officer ''Jonathan'' of the 7th squad of the External Affairs Group."


    After hearing these words, Jonathan suddenly had a clearer line in his mind.


    The intern security officer of the investigation department was also named "Jonathan", but this "Security Officer Jonathan" was quite unlucky, was reced by an undercover agent of Mechanical Dawn, and was killed. And Jonathan, himself, in turn, reced the undercover agent who reced "Security Officer Jonathan"... What a convoluted mess!


    "The investigation department houses more than one awakened, and various groups and department heads possess extraordinary abilities. The abilities of the awakened are diverse, they have everything." Doctor Neil said, "Rumor has it that the head of the criminal investigation group has the ''Lie Recognition'' ability. Please tread carefully."


    Jonathan simply said, "Got it."


    "All for the dawn." Doctor Neil looked at Jonathan with a meaningful expression.


    This phrase... Why does it sound like arade''s deration?


    Jonathan reacted quickly, and echoed, "All for the dawn."


    Doctor Neil nodded, with a sigh of emotion, "Take care, I have to attend to the next surgery... when I came in, I didn''t expect to have to work this hard."


    Jonathan watched his retreating figure until he was out of sight. The strong will to survive upied Jonathan''s brain, he was aware of the imminent danger lurking at his side.


    Mechanical Dawn, what sort of organization could they be? capable of erasing a person''s existence without hesitation and then recing that person. It doesn''t look like they were easy to fool at all. What is their purpose in nting undercover agents in the investigation department? What is the ultimate goal?


    Most importantly, Jonathan was not sure whether he could leave the second world and return to the first world. What if he was trapped here forever?


    Jonathan took deep breaths repeatedly to lower his heart rate, lest the healing pod issue another heart rate abnormality rm.


    His eyes lingered on "Dispossessor". If he had anything to rely on, it would undoubtedly be the ability of the "Dispossessor". This terrifying ability is probably his only hope.


    His identity was special, akin to traversing a tightrope nked, with abysses on both left and right, and risks of falling off the cliff either way forward or backward. The worst was he had no chance of retreating.


    No undercover agent could retire sessfully. What would be of him if he betrayed Mechanical Dawn? If he betrayed the investigation department, that would be even worse, as he also had an identity as a top-wanted criminal. The cost of death made Jonathan cautious enough, and his past lonely life taught him to protect and arm himself.


    He pondered for a long time and finally decided to treat this time-travel adventure as a game, a real game, a game that cannot be lost, a game rted to life and death.


    He had to clear this game, go to the end, avoid all bad endings and move toward a happy ending... no matter what method he used.

 Chapter 4: "Mission triggered"

    <h4>Chapter 4: "Mission triggered"</h4>


    "Intern Patrol Security Officer Jonathan, your body has recovered, please leave the healing pod."


    Jonathan woke up, opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the transparent ss cover of the healing pod. His physical condition was marked as green for health on the built-in disy.


    What he had experienced was not a dream, he had not returned to the first world.


    A nurse came in, helped Jonathan open the healing pod, and then removed the IV tube from the back of his hand and the bandages wrapped around his head.


    "You can go now, rest for the next couple of days and avoid vigorous exercise," the nurse said kindly. "Remember to submit your exemption application to your squad leader, otherwise you will be deducted from your attendance sry."


    "Okay." Jonathan nodded quickly by the instinct of a poor. He couldn''t forget such an important thing as attendance sry.


    Jonathan stood up straight, his feet touching the cold metal floor, stood up and moved his muscles and bones. Having slept in the healing pod, Jonathan was full of energy.


    He took a couple of steps and saw his current appearance through the reflective metal wall. He had medium-length silver hair in the first world, and his basic appearance in the second world was seven or eight points simr to the first world, but the medium-length hair had be neat short hair close to the ear.


    Jonathan''s skin was pale and his body was thin. At first nce, he looked a bit frail. His body had no visible injuries, and the wounds were well-healed.


    He stood in the room, at a loss for a moment. Because he didn''t know where to go, he didn''t even know where he was. This world waspletely unfamiliar to him.


    Jonathan guessed that he was at the headquarters of the investigation department. From Doctor Neil''s words, he could learn that there were different groups and departments within the investigation department. Neil''s badge said he was the director of the medical office, so Jonathan might have undergone surgery and treatment at a ce like the investigation department''s medical center.


    Jonathan learned from the game panel''s identity setting that he himself belonged to the "Seventh Squad of the Field Group".


    There wasn''t much time to hesitate, he couldn''t stay here still. Jonathan adjusted his mood and walked to the metal door.


    The metal door automatically opened, revealing a corridor behind it with blinking indicator lights, the corridor was empty.


    Jonathan stepped into the corridor, and a cold mechanical voice suddenly appeared in his ear.


    "Intern Patrol Security Officer Jonathan, your team leader Martin of the Seventh Squad you belong to has notified you to report to his office, please follow the green indicator light to proceed."


    A row of indicator lights in the corridor turned green, guiding Jonathan''s direction.


    Jonathan calmly observed his surroundings, seeing the surveince camera embedded in the wall pointed at him.


    He paused for a moment, following the green indicator light forward, and the camera also switched angles with his steps. When Jonathan came to a fork in the road, the indicator light in the right passage blinked in time to remind him to go right.


    After passing through the long corridor, Jonathan suddenly saw two peopleing from the opposite side. One of the men had an emergency bandage on his arm, the bandage seeping with blood, but he didn''t seem to be seriously injured and could walk clearly. The other person was a bit surprising to Jonathan. He was supporting the injured man, and Jonathan could clearly see his right arm glowing with a stiff gray metallic sheen... he was equipped with a mechanical arm.


    In the cyberpunk world, people would modify their bodies, and the modified mechanical limbs could greatly facilitate people''s work and life. Mechanical modified people were verymon, and natural people who had not undergone any modifications were the minority.


    Jonathan was now also a mechanically modified person. Although it was not visible from the outside, he had an invincible iron skull.


    The two mening from the opposite side seemed not to know Jonathan and had no reaction when they saw him.


    Jonathan thought for a moment and decided to take a little risk and initiate a conversation.


    "What happened?" He didn''t use any titles, as if he had just happened to meet a colleague and was making small talk.


    Fortunately, the two men also treated Jonathan as a regr colleagueing to chat. The injured man grumbled, "What else could it be? The port has been bombed again, those damn guys are really getting annoying, wait until my wound heals and I will take up arms and wipe them out!"


    "Save it, wait for the minister''s unifiedmand before acting, don''t go to your death." The man with the mechanical right arm said coldly.


    They walked away, cursing all the way.


    The port was bombed again?


    Jonathan took a nce at their receding figures, thinking as he followed the green indicator light.


    Two minutester, he stopped in front of a metal door marked "Field Team Seventh Squad Office Martin".


    The door opened, and Jonathan steadied his heartbeat and walked in.


    A round table came into view, and the hovering screen projected by the holograph was filled with dense text. A man in a gray-blue uniform stood in front of the screen and said to Jonathan without looking back, "Sit."


    Jonathan scanned the room, pulled a caster chair from under the round table, and sat down.


    The man turned around to look at Jonathan and said, "You''ve had a tough time, I''ll give you three days off, you don''t need to go to the training room for these three days."


    "Thank you, captain," Jonathan said.


    It seems that the man in front of him is his direct superior, the captain of the seventh squad, Martin. From what it seems, he''s a good captain who cares about his subordinates, even actively granting leave.


    "No need to thank me, it''s partly my responsibility for not protecting my team member properly." Martin rubbed his brow and said, "Before you go back to rest, you need to go to the criminal investigation team to make a statement, and talk about the details of the attack."


    Here ites.


    Jonathan became nervous, his palms slightly damp. As a transmigrator, not inheriting any memories of the original body is a huge hidden danger, he really doesn''t know anything.


    Before he entered the second world, he was worried about living expenses, but after entering the second world, the things that made him anxious werepletely different, he needed to consider how to survive.


    "Captain... I..." Jonathan hesitated.


    "What''s wrong?" Martin looked at him patiently.


    "I don''t remember the attack very clearly." Jonathan said honestly, "I seem to have a lot of things that I can''t remember clearly, and I can''t recall them when I think about it."


    Martin frowned, "Then what do you remember?"


    "I remember my identity, the intern security officer of the seventh squad." Jonathan carefully observed Martin''s expression.


    Sure enough, Martin''s brow furrowed even tighter. He nced at Jonathan and said, "Moss, contact the medical office for me and ask them to send a doctor over to check on Jonathan."


    The cold mechanical voice appeared "Your instruction has been conveyed."


    Moss? The cold mechanical voice belonged to Moss?


    Is Moss the name of a super artificial intelligence?


    Jonathan sat in the chair, Martin silently observing him, asked "Really don''t remember anything?"


    "I really don''t remember." Jonathan shook his head, "What happened at that time?"


    "Only you know what happened." Martin tapped on the table, "You caught up with the suspect who was setting up explosives at the port, but when we arrived, you were lying on the ground bleeding from your head, and the suspect had escaped." He said in a serious tone, "Jonathan, we need you to recall the suspect''s characteristics. This is very important for our follow-up actions."


    Jonathan looked up and said, "I''ll do my best."


    Moss prompted, "The doctor is outside the door, should I let him in?"


    "Let him in," Martin said.


    The metal door silently opened, and Jonathan''s old acquaintance, Dr. Neil, came in sweating, pushing medical equipment, "Captain Martin, what''s going on? I just finished surgery."


    "Jonathan has lost his memory, it might be the aftereffects of brain trauma, have a look at him." Martin looked at Dr. Neil.


    Dr. Neil looked at Jonathan with a bit of surprise, "Amnesia?" He immediately took out something that looked like a scanner and ced it on Jonathan''s head, and a light blue beam scanned him from head to foot.


    Dr. Neil took out a monitor and looked at the data on it, muttering, "Anesthesia can cause temporary memory loss, but the problem is obviously not here, a cursory check doesn''t reveal anything. Security Officer Jonathan probably needs toe back with me to the medical center for a thorough physical examination."


    "Okay, go now," Martin said.


    "Let''s go, Jonathan." Dr. Neil nodded at Jonathan.


    Jonathan stood up from his chair, "Thank you, doctor."


    "No trouble, it''s my duty." Dr. Neil said, "Captain Martin, I will report to you as soon as the results are out."


    Jonathan followed Dr. Neil down the corridor in silence, with Dr. Neil chattering, "There were many casualties in the case at the port. Several people had mechanical limb transnts, and a few reced bionic organs. I performed five or six surgeries today, I haven''t even closed my eyes."


    "You''re lucky." Dr. Neil sighed, "Some couldn''t be saved. You''re so young, it''s good that you made it through. When will the gangs in ck Sea City be cleaned up? They''re causing trouble every few days, this time they even wanted to blow up the port, the economic lifeline of ck Sea City."


    Neil is quite the actor... If Jonathan didn''t know about his undercover identity, he would think that this benevolent-looking doctor was very dedicated and cared for the people. He was intentionally or unintentionally revealing some information to Jonathan, and Jonathan epted and memorized it all.


    If this were a game, every sentence NPC hinted at could be of great help in beating the game.


    After arriving at the medical room, Dr. Neil pressed his wristwatch, and the lights in the medical room dimmed.


    "Moss is everywhere, we need to use devices to avoid its surveince in order tomunicate freely, otherwise it might be listening to us." Neil put away his benevolent look, "I didn''t expect your strategy to be pretending to lose your memory... but it''s surprisingly effective."


    His tone outside was like an elder talking to a junior, but here where Moss couldn''t monitor, his attitude towards Jonathan was full of respect. Jonathan was part of the core of the Mechanical Dawn Organization, a higher rank than him.


    Dr. Neil was a man with two faces.


    Jonathan subconsciously touched his pocket. The silver braceletmunicator and data chip that Dr. Neil had given him were in his pocket. He suspected that the silver bracelet also carried a simr function, which could block the surveince of the AI, Moss if used correctly.


    "Can you forge a physical examination report for me?" Jonathan asked proactively.


    "Of course," Dr. Neil said with a smile, "Isn''t that why I brought you to the medical room?"


    Half an hourter, the forged physical examination report was done. Jonathan took the report and left the medical room, returning to Martin''s office.


    Martin stared at Jonathan''s physical examination report several times, his gaze lingering on thest line of the disease suggestion column, "Proper rest will help memory recovery."


    "Go back," he sighed a hint of helplessness in his voice, "If there are signs of memory recovery, report to me immediately. Your vacation is still three days."


    Jonathan said, "Yes, sir."


    Until he left Martin''s office did he feel a sense of relief wash over him.


    A thinyer of cold sweat had formed on his back. He knew he had passed the first test, managing to maintain his facade without raising any suspicions. The challenges toe would only be harder.


    This was a world where high technology coexisted with super powers.


    "Mission triggered."


    "Task Description: The humble ck Sea City is an important port city in the Federation and a nest of numerous gang forces. Now ck Sea City is shrouded in conspiracy, unknown forces are extending their ws here. You are tasked to thoroughly investigate."


    "You have the option to ept or reject the mission."


    "Refusal may reduce your risk, but eptance may yield unexpected rewards."


    "Task content: Investigate the ck Sea City port bombing case."


    Jonathan remembered the sixth piece of advice before entering the game - everythinges at a price.


    The gifts of fate always have a price tag hidden in the shadows. To gain, one must bear the risk.


    Jonathan was a yer in the second world, and also an explorer of this new world. Both danger and opportunityy before him, and he now stood at a crossroads of destiny.


    Jonathan chose to ept the mission.


    "You have epted the mission."


    "Mission progress: 0."

 Chapter 5: Hello, robbery

    <h4>Chapter 5: Hello, robbery</h4>


    Jonathan got a leave, yet another serious problem arose, he didn''t know where his home was.


    For a few seconds, he stood lost in the corridor, his eyes flitting around beforeing to rest on avatory sign ahead. A n formed in his mind and he strode into the restroom. Upon entering a cubicle, he pulled from his pocket a silver bracelet that Dr. Neil had given him, slipping it onto his wrist.


    A string of characters shed across the bracelet: "Power On."


    Next, the characters morphed into the time: 19:38. At first nce, it appeared nothing more than an ordinary digital wristwatch.


    Jonathan, like an elderly man grappling with a smartphone for the first time, sat on the toilet lid, clumsily trying to navigate it.


    "I need help... there are no discernible buttons on this bracelet," Jonathan muttered to himself, perspiration dotting his forehead. He began to empathize with the older generation, floundering in a world steeped in advanced technology. He could only stroke the bracelet, trying to discover its hidden features.


    He pressed one side.


    "Biological information confirmed," the bracelet projected, revealing its various functions.


    "Signal jamming, instantmunication, encrypted connection, location tracking, self-destruction..." Jonathan read each function, a chill running down his spine. "Hold the power button for three seconds and throw it away. More powerful than a mini bomb?"


    So, it was also a miniature weapon?


    Thankfully, he hadn''t pressed the side too long, or he would have been blown to pieces.


    He took out a ck chip, the size of a fingernail. ording to Dr. Neil, this chip contained all the information about "Security Officer Jonathan," of course including the location of his home.


    After positioning the chip onto the bracelet, a projected screen shed: "Data Reading... Reading... Read Complete."


    The first page brought forth an extensive array of personal details about Jonathan.


    His parents, victims of a deadly terrorist attack on a hover train years ago, had left him a sizeable insurance payout, which he used it go to the ck Sea College, specializing in criminal investigation technology. Upon graduation, he joined the enforcement department as a security officer intern. His current residence was 331 Baker Street, Harbor District, ck Sea City.


    The information was incredibly detailed, including his life trajectory, unnoticeable little habits, bank passcode, and transaction history.


    Wait a moment! The information showed that he had taken a loan from the bank, and it wasn''t a small sum... How could this be? Didn''t he have the insurance payout? Why did he need a loan?


    When Jonathan saw the reason, his eyes went wide.


    It was because the tuition fee for the ck Sea College was astronomically high! The yearly fee was more than 200,000 dors. He had spent all his insurance money and was still in debt of 300,000.


    In debt for 300,000!


    Jonathan''s pupils dted in shock.


    If he was to y "Security Officer Jonathan" for a considerable length of time, then inheriting the original''s debt was inevitable.


    Was this what they called Crossing? Not only was he undercover, but he also had to shoulder a loan of 300,000!


    A pall of sorrow draped over Jonathan''s face. It took him a substantial amount of time to regain hisposure.


    He swiftly encrypted a connection to thework, searching for the route from the Enforcement Building to Baker Street in the Harbor District.


    "Take Hover Rail number 13 from the Enforcement Building station to Baker Street station," Jonathan exhaled in relief, thankful for the Inte. of course, when you are in doubt, Google was the best choice.


    The data showed that "Security Officer Jonathan" usually took the hover rail, so he would do the same way to return home.


    The information Dr. Neil had given him spanned more than two hundred pages, not just about Jonathan, but also others like Captain Martin whom he had just met, and the other members of the Seventh Squad to which he was assigned. He studied his own information carefully, nced through the others, then turned off the bracelet''s projection.


    He couldn''t linger here too long.


    Emerging from the cubicle, Jonathan washed his face at the sink. Through the mirror, he saw his own pale reflection, and behind him, a fire safety map hung on the wall, having the floor n of the Enforcement Building. He turned and studied it carefully, confirming the location of the exits before leaving the restroom.


    "Intern Security Officer Jonathan, are you feeling unwell due to post-operative weakness?" the AI, Moss, suddenly asked. "I noticed your restroom visit was somewhat lengthy. Considering your physical condition, if you don''t emerge within the next minute, I will send a help request to the nearest staff member to confirm you haven''t fainted."


    ???


    What was this AI doing?


    Was the AI keeping tabs even on his bathroom breaks?


    "I do feel a bit under the weather," Jonathan replied calmly.


    "Do you need me to call the medical center?" Moss offered.


    Suppressing a profanity, Jonathan responded, "No, thank you... I n on resting at home."


    "Would you like someone to escort you home?" Moss inquired.


    Moss was less an AI and more an AI butler.


    "I appreciate your offer," he refused, "but I can manage on my own."


    "You''re wee, serving you is my duty," Moss replied.


    Returning home solo carried the risk of getting lost, but having apanion could potentially blow his cover. Opting for the lesser of two evils, he chose to venture alone.


    Jonathan found the elevator ording to the map he memorized and descended to the first floor. The first floor was an open hall with a receptionist at the front desk. Jonathan stepped into the hall and looked out through the ss doors.


    It was raining outside, the grey curtain of rain making the outside view unclear. Sensing his approach, the ss doors slid open, allowing a wave of cool, damp air to billow in.


    "Please remember to take an umbre in heavy rain. Have a safe journey," the AI dutifully reminded him.


    How thoughtful... Jonathan silently took a ck umbre from the public umbre rack beside the ss doors, opened it, and walked into the curtain of rain.


    He raised his eyes to the sky, feeling the raindrops stter against his trouser legs and the glow of neon lights reflected in his eyes.


    He found himself in a forest of steel, surrounded by towering skyscrapers that reached toward the heavens like silent giants. Hover rails zipped between the buildings along tracks in the city skyline, resembling predatory snakes prowling in a forest. The faces of the buildings were adorned with enormous, colorful electronic screens, flickering from one advertisement to the next. A skyship cruised across the leaden sky, trailing a bright, glowing banner of advertisement.


    Giant and lifelike holographic images were projected into the air by holographic equipment. An actor in an advertisement spoke enticingly, "Rick Tech Company, mastering the cutting-edge bionic technology, creating your personalized prosthetic limb."


    The sound of rain pattering on Jonathan''s umbre snapped him out of his brief trance.


    His gaze traveled through the curtain of rain, observing the hurried people in the downpour. They were dressed in various ways, some in suits, some in in attire, some fashionable, some in ragged clothes. But under the influence of the rain, they all seemed no different, soaked and in dilemma.


    Jonathan looked around and saw the sign for the hover rail not far away, and headed towards it.


    A handful of people were waiting at the stop, and Jonathan blended into the crowd, waiting for the hover rail along with them.


    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed many people with prosthetic limbs. The middle-aged man next to him had a mechanical hand with a miniature disy on the back. The girl on his right, blowing bubblegum, had two mechanical legs.


    Prosthetic limbs seemed to be the norm here, without attracting any peculiar nces.


    After about three minutes, the hover rail arrived and the door slid open, The passengers at the stop boarded one by one, the identification device continuously announcing, "Facial recognition sessful, paymentpleted... Facial recognition sessful, paymentpleted..."


    When it was Jonathan''s turn, he stepped up, and the device gave the same announcement, "Facial recognition sessful, paymentpleted."


    He rxed and found an empty seat in the carriage.


    The rain tapped rhythmically against the windows. He looked out, at the dazzling neon lights casting various halos, reflecting in his eyes.


    This kind of prosperity and ubiquitous high-tech projection was something that was unimaginable in his original world.


    This world was like a toxic poppy - beautiful, and fascinating, butced with danger.


    Jonathan nced at his wristband. It read 20:12.


    Night had fallen, but ck Sea City didn''t quiet down. There were even more neon lights and advertising projections, and the rain couldn''t quench the city''s liveliness.


    Jonathan was an intruder, observing this new world. He meticulously read each fleeting word on the flickering billboards and carefully studied every passing airship and drone swarm.


    The speeding hover rail pierced through the curtain of rain, passing through the massive holographic projections in mid-air. The light reflected in Jonathan''s eyes changed as the scene outside the window changed.


    In his heart, he murmured, "I''m here, New World."


    ...


    "Harbor District, Baker Street, arriving. Please take your belongings and prepare to get out of the hover rail."


    Jonathan opened his umbre and stepped off the hover rail. As the doors sealed shut behind him, a starkly different panorama unfolded before him.


    Baker Street in the Harbor District was pitch ck, with no neon lights or billboards. There were only unevenly built residential buildings and cheap convenience stores on both sides of the street with lights on, and Puddles littered the bumpy road. Compared to the bustling district housing the Investigation Department''s headquarters, Baker Street in the Harbor District was quite rundown. Yet, this rundown setting stirred a sense of familiarity in him.


    The advanced technology and the bustling city constantly reminded Jonathan that he was an outsider. The backward simplicity of Baker Street gave Jonathan an illusion of returning home because the old district where he had lived for years in the first world also looked like this. It was old and dark, the street lights were broken, and the small shop downstairs kept the lights on until veryte.


    He recalled the map he had looked up before and headed in the direction of his home.


    Just a few tens of meters into his walk, a wine bottle crashed next to Jonathan''s feet. He halted to find a drunken old man slumped against a wall, mumbling incoherently.


    He didn''t say two words before he tipped his head back and fell asleep.


    Jonathan stepped over the broken bottle and saw the walls on both sides of the street were covered with vibrant graffiti.


    "Enforcement Department, get out of our home!" a line of red characters was scrawled on the wall, ending with a bloody skull.


    It seemed that the people of Baker Street were not weing to outsiders, especiallyw enforcement. Moreover, the security on this street... looked extremely poor. The streets were dirty and messy, graffiti was everywhere, and drunkards were lying around unattended.


    Jonathan''s feeling of returning home disappeared instantly. Although his neighborhood was rundown, it was clean, and a garbage truck came to collect trash every morning.


    Pedestrians on the street were very sparse. Jonathan passed through grimy alleys, trying to find his way home. Just as he was about to leave the alley, he saw a guy in a hoodie not far away. He was just about to hurry over to ask for directions when two men suddenly appeared around a corner, blocking his retreat.


    They circled around Jonathan, brandishing small knives and threatening him menacingly, "Robbery!"

 Chapter 6: "You have unlocked the inherent talent"

    <h4>Chapter 6: "You have unlocked the inherent talent"</h4>


    Jonathan remained calm, quickly saying, "I''m a pauper, in debt for three hundred thousand. What do you think you could get some from me?"


    The two robbers were momentarily speechless.


    "You should be robbing in the rich districts. How can you find a fat sheep in a rundown ce like Baker Street?" Jonathan said earnestly, "Let me give you some advice, robbing in this kind of ce is not lucrative. If you rob the rich, that''s a different story. You could live for three years off one robbery!"


    The robber on the left hesitated, "But the rich districts are full of surveince..."


    Hispanion interrupted, "This guy is tricking us! Don''t fall for it!"


    "Why would I lie to you." Jonathan dropped his umbre and spread his hands, " "As you see I''ve naught, pockets bare, dwelling in a leaky abode. What gain is there in robbing me?"


    "Hold on!" The robber on the right''s eyes lit up, looking at Jonathan''s silver bracelet, "What''s that you''re wearing on your wrist?"


    "Oh, this? If you want it, I''ll give it to you." Jonathan extended his hand towards him.


    The robber on the right did not move, but the one on the left couldn''t resist stepping forward.


    The moment the robber approached Jonathan, his outstretched hand quickly clenched into a fist, punching the robber in the temple.


    "Crack��" The robber''s temple bone fractured under the impact, and his face twisted as he fell straight to the ground.


    "Good God!" Jonathan eximed, startled by the power of his own blow. He had only meant to stun the man and flee.


    Jonathan btedly realized that his physical abilities had changed. In the past, when he fought with bullies on the way home from school, the bullies would be hurt, but his fingers would be bruised and swollen for two weeks, and he couldn''t even hold a pen.


    Jonathan had aimed for the man''s vulnerable temple, but the effect was astonishing! The human skull was like paper under his fist, he could feel the robber''s bone collide and rub against his knuckles, then shatter.


    The remaining robber roared, lifting his knife and lunging at Jonathan.


    Just before the sharp knife could pierce his abdomen, Jonathan reflexively dodged to the side, avoiding the blow. The robber''s movements seemed to slow down infinitely in his eyes. Before his mind had time to react, his body had already responded.


    Jonathan clenched his hand, instantly seizing the robber''s knife. The knife danced with silver sparks at his fingertips, and he smoothly reversed his grip and stabbed it into the robber''s body, the de urately entering the heart through a gap in the ribs.


    He even let go of the knife handle in time, calmly taking a step back to avoid the sporadic spray of blood.


    All his movements were as fluid as flowing water, everything happened in less than five seconds. Before Jonathan''s brain could formte a strategy, his body had taken over... and killed the man.


    Jonathan''s expression was nk, he stood dumbfounded at the mouth of the alley, his clothes wet from the rain, his open ck umbre shaking on the ground, but there were two bodies lying at his feet.


    He crouched down to check the two men''s breath, then stood up shaking.


    They had stopped breathing, they were dead. The blood from their bodies pooled into the rainwater, staining the puddles red.


    "What... happened?" His chest rose and fell, his heart pounding.


    The game system screen appeared.


    "You have unlocked the inherent talent: Combat Instinct."


    "Combat Instinct: Beasts have the instinct to hunt. This instinct, after being honed, can be used more perfectly. This is muscle memory formed through countless harsh pieces of training, the nervous reflex caused by rigorous training. You can still fight based on instinct in extreme situations such as confusion and exhaustion."


    Jonathan hissed out a breath.


    These talents did not originate from Jonathan himself but were innate to the body he now inhabited. He was a core member of the resistance, a trusted undercover agent, he should have a smart mind, keen intuition, and excellentbat skills.


    Thesebat skills were ingrained in this body''s muscle memory, driving him to react with lethal force when faced with enemies.


    At that moment, a loud crash came from the alley''s end. The guy in the hoodie had returned, his face full of terror, his mouth wide open looking at the bodies on the ground, his metal bat falling from his fingers.


    "Kind sir," Jonathan wiped the rain off his face and gave the guy in the hoodie a stiff smile, "Might you call the police for me? I am innocent, as you heard, they wanted to rob me."


    "S-sure, no problem." The youth fumbled for his phone, dialing several wrong numbers before connecting.


    "City Security hotline, how can I assist you?" the operator''s sweet voice answered.


    "Robbery, the address is..." The guy in the hoodie paused, looking at Jonathan for help, "Where is this again?"


    "Harbor District, Baker Street, about mid," Jonathan said.


    After reporting the location, the youth added "An ambnce too, they''re..."


    "No need, they''re dead," Jonathan cut in.


    The guy in the hoodie looked even more terrified, he stuttered, "You... you did this?"


    "Self-defense." Jonathan didn''t look at the bodies on the ground and simply said, "Can you be my witness? To prove that they indeed intended to rob with a knife, there seems to be no surveince around here, you are the only witness."


    The guy in the hoodie hesitated for less than a second before nodding, "Sure if you need it."


    Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the ck umbre on the ground, shook off the rainwater, and walked toward the guy in the hoodie.


    The guy in the hoodie retreated in fear.


    Jonathan "..."


    "You don''t have an umbre, it might take a while for the security toe, we can share one." Jonathan said, "My name is Jonathan, a student at ck Sea Academy."


    "Daniel." The guy in the hoodie rxed his guard upon hearing Jonathan''s student status, "I''m also from ck Sea Academy, what''s your major?"


    Jonathan replied, "I major in Criminal Investigation."


    "Criminal Investigation? No wonder you''re so capable." Daniel muttered.


    "Thank you for tonight." Jonathan walked over and tilted the umbre towards him.


    "It''s nothing, just doing a good deed like Rose...y''know? My folks run the corner store up ahead. I heard a scuffle and grabbed my bat, but uh...guess you didn''t need my help. I should go let them know I''m okay. Wait here and I''ll be back for a moment."


    Jonathan slowly nodded, watching as Daniel rushed into the rain and disappeared around the corner of the street.


    He contemted, activating his bracelets and searching the keyword "Rose" online.


    Search matched results - "0".


    In the second world, there were no deeds of Rose doing good, nor phrases like the spirit of Rose.


    "Just as I thought, I guessed right." Jonathan thought to himself.


    The guy in the hoodie, Daniel, was a yer from the first world.


    He probably just arrived in this world and wasn''t very familiar yet, which was why he was so clumsy when dialing the police because, like Jonathan, he didn''t quite understand the high-tech portable devices of the cyberpunk world. He hadn''t paid close attention to his surroundings, nor gathered information, or perhaps he did remember but was too panicked to recall, hence he didn''t know this ce was Baker Street in the Harbor District when he called the police.


    Daniel hadn''t been in the second world long enough to have learned its history, that''s why he said something like "Do good like Rose" which everyone in the first world would understand, but people in the second world shouldn''t know who Rose is.


    Meeting a fellow countryman in a different world is such a delightful scenario, but, in the six pieces of advice given to yers, it was said, "Do not reveal your identity as a yer to anyone."


    Anyone!


    After thinking it over, Jonathan decided to abide by this.


    He would not reveal his identity to the people of the second world, nor to other yers. He would treat this as a role-ying game, he would y his role and be apetent "yer".


    Jonathan waited under the umbre for ten minutes, and then Daniel drenched in the rain, ran over.


    Jonathan was surprised he returned at all. He thought Daniel was making an excuse to escape, after all, getting involved in a case with a homicide as soon as he arrived in another world was not a wise choice for him.


    "Oh my god, this rain is really heavy, no idea when it''s going to stop." Daniel held an extra umbre in his hand, which he had taken from the convenience store. "I told my dad, just waiting for the cops now."


    Five minutester, a hover police car stopped above Jonathan and Daniel, broadcast booming "Lower your weapons and ce hands atop your heads!"


    The twoplied as the car descended, officers emerging with guns trained on Jonathan, red targetsers dancing across his chest.


    "I am Jonathan, an intern security officer of the 7th Squad, Field Team, Investigation department" Jonathan quickly said. "I encountered a robbery on my way home and defended myself against the criminals."


    One officer, a female, focused on him. "Moss, scan."


    A robotic voice responded, "Facial match. Greetings Probationary Officer Jonathan."


    It continued, "Daniel, fourth-ss citizen, a mechanical engineering student at ck Sea Academy, no criminal record, target determined to be non-threatening."


    "Gary, fifth-ss citizen, unemployed vagrant, has a history of robbery and theft, the target was dead, no resuscitation value."


    "Joe, fifth-ss citizen, unemployed vagrant, has a history of theft and destruction of public property, the target was dead, no resuscitation value."


    The two security officers from the police car put away their weapons and nodded at Jonathan. "By procedure, we should record a statement. Pleasee with us for investigation."


    "No problem." Jonathan nced at Daniel, "He''s a witness."


    "Okay, don''t worry." The female security officer patted Jonathan''s shoulder. "After the statement, it will be fine, Just routine."


    Jonathan sensed something was off. Although he was a Probationary Officer and the two men he killed were criminals, the attitude of his colleagues was very casual, as if he had killed two people was not a big deal. He would be released after going through the procedure, with no legal responsibility, not even a penalty... why?


    Jonathan sat in the back of the police car, with Daniel beside him.


    The police car rose into the air, flying them to the Investigation department Building.


    Daniel looked at him withplicated eyes. "So you have connections... you should have said so earlier, I spent half the day mentally preparing."


    "No special treatment, I''m just a Probationary Officer and debt of 300,000." Jonathan leaned back tiredly on the seat of the police car. "Ah, I just finished work and didn''t even make it home, now I have to go back..."

 Chapter 7: "Richguy"

    <h4>Chapter 7: "Richguy"</h4>


    Martin looked at Jonathan sitting opposite him and sighed helplessly.


    "Captain, are you working overtime?" Jonathan asked awkwardly.


    "Yes, I was supposed to finish work three minutes ago, but you..." Martin paused, "Exin what happened."


    "I was on my way home from work, encountered a robbery, and then I... killed someone without controlling myself," Jonathan said with a bitter expression, "Will I be punished?"


    Martin thought for a moment, "No, those two people had criminal records, and you were acting in self-defense. You are from the Investigation department, and although an intern, you have immunity, you don''t have to take legal responsibility for causing injuries or death in the course of official duties. This matter can be handled internally without referring it to other departments, otherwise, the procedures would be more, too troublesome."


    Jonathan started, "Captain, I not ..."


    Martin gave him a stern look, "You were in official duty time."


    Jonathan, "...I see."


    Martin intended to use his position to suppress this matter.


    "Captain Martin, the autopsy report has been delivered," Moss reported.


    "show it," Martin said immediately.


    The office''s holo-projector flickered, and two bodies lying on the autopsy table were presented vividly. One had a horrifically caved face, the head was so bloody it could be pixted, and the other had a subtle knife wound on the chest, covered in blood.


    Jonathan lowered his eyes, averting his gaze.


    "Gary, the cause of death was skull fracture, temple hit by a heavy object, the shattered skull prated the brain, causing death. Time of death less than one hour."


    "Joe, the cause of death was chest pierced by a sharp object, the sharp object urately pierced through the third and fourth ribs of the left chest, striking the heart, a fatal blow. Time of death also less than one hour."


    Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise, he saw Jonathan''s pale face and chuckled, "I thought you really had no feelings, if I remember correctly, this is your first time killing someone."


    "How could I not feel anything?" Jonathan covered his forehead, his stomach churning. Luckily he hadn''t eaten anything in the past few hours, otherwise, he would have thrown up.


    At the time of the incident, he didn''t feel much, just a sense of unreality, the development of the event exceeded his expectations. But now, as he listened to Moss''s autopsy report, the scenes reyed relentlessly in his mind, bringing him back to reality.


    "Don''t vomit in my office, turn left out the door for the bathroom," Martin said. "You did well in basic skills at school, I''ve seen your internal recruitment scores, tracking,bat, investigation, and shooting, these practical courses are all close to full marks. Jonathan, you are the most outstanding neer in the Investigation department in recent years."


    He poured a ss of iced water for Jonathan, "Drink. It''ll help."


    Jonathan drank the iced water in one gulp, the cold sensation helped cool his thoughts slightly.


    "You were supposed to go to the criminal investigation team, but I brought you here. Fieldwork is harder than other departments, we face danger directly, confront criminals head-on, encounter many unexpected situations during patrols, and even face life-threatening situations," Martin said. "If you can''t adapt to this kind of work, you can apply to switch to another team after your internship."


    Jonathan didn''t respond.


    "You can think about it. Personally, I hope you stay. Our field teamcks new members," he said. "By the way, is your home on Baker Street in the Harbor District?"


    "Yes," Jonathan replied.


    Martin frowned. "It''s very unsafe there. Gangs are hard to control, and murder every month. Harbor sees the most illegal trade." He suggested. "Move somewhere safer to live."


    "But I can''t afford to move," Jonathan said sadly. "That house was left by my parents, I went to university on loans, owe the bank three hundred thousand...."


    Martin was briefly at a loss for words.


    "You can live in the staff dormitory when you be a full-time employee," he said. "Just a week left on your probation, take it slow. Also, your personalmunicator seems to have been damaged during yourst field operation, you..."


    "Can I get a new one? It was a property loss due to official duties," Jonathan asked quietly.


    Martinughed, "No way."


    He bent down and took a box out of his desk drawer, "This is the standardmunicator issued by the Investigation department to all full-time members, it''s just a basic model, you can use it for now."


    Jonathan took the box and said, "Thank you, Captain."


    He couldn''t help revealing his true nature and added, "Do other captains care about their team members and subordinates'' lives as much as you do? If they don''t have your gentleness and care, I wouldn''t apply to leave the field team."


    Martin, "..."


    He coughed dryly, pretending not to hear.


    "If you really can''t get over the killing, go to the Psychological Therapy Office," Martin said. "Director James of the Psychological Therapy Office is an excellent therapist, he can help you alleviate your worries."


    ...


    Daniel stood in the lobby of the Investigation Building like a fool, he found a spot and sat down to wait. The record was finished a long time ago, as a witness he saw limited things, and there wasn''t much he could say. The interrogator put a high-tech device simr to a lie detector on him, asked him a few questions, and then let him go.


    Ten minutes passed, the numbers on the elevator floor were dropping, the elevator doors opened, and Jonathan walked out.


    "You''re still here?" Jonathan asked in surprise.


    "I was waiting for you," Daniel said.


    "Then let''s go home quickly, the Hover Rail stops running at midnight," Jonathan said.


    Daniel quickly nodded, he had been waiting for Jonathan to say that. The Second World had long entered a cashless society, and he didn''t know how to pay or find his way home in this unfamiliar ce. What if he got lost? So he thought of Jonathan. Jonathan also lived on Baker Street, and they could go back together when he was done.


    Jonathan led Daniel to the station with familiarity.


    Daniel was looking around curiously. When he saw the advertisements projected in mid-air, he gasped slightly, amazed by the brilliance of holographic imaging technology.


    "What year are you in?" Jonathan asked casually.


    "I''m a freshman, just received my eptance letter this morning, and got admitted into the mechanical department," Daniel scratched his hair.


    "ck Sea College tuition is not cheap, have you found a way to get a loan?" Jonathan further probed, in order not to make his probing seem too deliberate, he purposely said, "I took many detours to go to college, just a heads up, don''t mess with loan sharks."


    "Okay." Daniel asked, "How expensive is the tuition... exactly?"


    Jonathan recalled the information he had seen, "Over two hundred thousand dors a year, not including living expenses."


    "What?!" Daniel was shocked, "Why don''t they just rob? This is a university that''s supposed to cultivate talent! How many excellent students must be deterred by such high tuition fees?"


    Jonathan looked at Daniel strangely, he lowered his voice weakly, "This tuition is outrageous, it''s far from reasonable!"


    "There''s nothing we can do, it''s the rule," Jonathan said.


    Daniel muttered under his breath, "What a messed up world..."


    Education monopoly,rge wealth gap, and ss differentiation, this is the current state of the Second World. The rich can afford to go to college and can receive higher education, and ordinary people without the ability can only engage in lower-paid jobs, over time the wealth gap growsrger, and the ss bes more and more solidified. The education of the Second World is not to cultivate talents but to consolidate the interests of the elite ss.


    "Senpai!" Daniel moved closer to Jonathan and said, "Is there any way to get a legal loan?"


    This kid is really sweet, calling me Senpai already.


    Jonathan said, "Banks, but approval''s uncertain. Interest rates can be high"


    Daniel said with a worried face, "I''m really afraid I won''t be able to go to school."


    The Second World is a capitalist society, why would capitalists who don''t get up early without profit do charity?


    Until the rail car arrived, Daniel was still looking worried.


    This is interesting. Jonathan had confirmed that Daniel was a yer. He should have been in this world for less than a day and should not have much sense of belonging here, but he was genuinely worried about the money for school as if it mattered.


    Jonathan had once triggered a game system task to "investigate the port explosion case", could it be that the task Daniel triggered was "Enroll at ck Sea College"?


    If that was the case, then his behavior made sense.


    "Let''s get in the car." Jonathan walked ahead, scanning his face to pay.


    Daniel followed closely and also paid by face scan, but the machine indicated "Insufficient bnce, face scan payment failed."


    Daniel "...?!"


    He scanned again, and the machine still indicated "Insufficient bnce, face scan payment failed."


    Jonathan looked at him pityingly, walked to the identification machine, and scanned for him. "Face recognition passed, payment sessful."


    He patted the stunned Daniel and said, "I paid for you, thank you for apanying me to the Investigation Department."


    Daniel was almost in tears, "Damn, why am I so poor, is there really any hope for me to go to college?"


    "Work hard, there will be a chance." Jonathan showed a look of shared misery.


    This was not only a case of fellow countrymen meeting, but also a meeting of the poor.


    Jonathan understood Daniel''s feelings very well, because in the First World, he was also worrying about living expenses and tuition fees, but the amount he needed for tuition was not as exaggerated as over two hundred thousand dors a year.


    The rail car sped all the way, stopping at Baker Street.


    "Uh, is it a bit dangerous to walk alone, or should I..." Daniel stopped, "It seems that you don''t need me to apany you with yourbat power."


    "You go home, I''ll be fine. " Jonathan waved his hand.


    Daniel said, "Goodbye, senior... wait, leave a contact!"


    Jonathan took out themunicator given by Martin, and after much fumbling, Daniel finally managed to add his contact.


    The downpour showed no signs of stopping. Jonathan left with his umbre and after making several turns, he finally found his home.


    It was a dpidatedplex with peeling walls and seedy ads for escorts. The lobby stank of mildew, rusty doors squeaking open at a touch.


    He walked up to the third floor and stopped at the door, gripping the doorknob.


    "Fingerprint verification passed." The door opened.


    Stepping inside, a sudden sense of rm surfaced in his heart. He looked up and was startled to see a shadow sitting on the sofa in the living room.


    A silver mask obscured his face, eyes glinting through the holes fixed on Jonathan.


    "You''rete"


    This tone, it was as if he knew Jonathan.


    "I ran into a little ident on the way," Jonathan quickly responded, picking up the conversation.


    "Did you review the mission chip the boss sent?"


    "Not yet," he answered tersely, wary of saying too much at once would betray his nervousness.


    "Okay. The boss told me to tell you that this task must bepleted, no matter the cost." The man with the silver mask stood up from the sofa, "Starting today, I''m your partner for operations in ck Sea City. My codename is ''fox'', and you need toe up with a codename for yourself."


    Codename? Jonathan''s mind raced.


    Fox said, "The codename should have nothing to do with your personal characteristics, the further apart, the better, don''t let others associate you through the codename..."


    "Richguy."


    Fox was taken aback, "What did you say?"


    "Richguy." Jonathan repeated calmly, "Codename, richguy."


    He thought the codename "richguy" was quite good. Not only was "richguy" far removed from him, but it was also practically a world apart.


    Fox"..."


    He hesitated for a long time before saying, "This... Are you sure you want to be called this?"


    "Sure." Jonathan was resolute, "Call me richguy."


    This was a codename that was both far removed from him, yet also encapsted his aspirations for the future. His dream was to be a rich guy!


    "Alright, ''richguy''." The expression under Fox''s mask was indescribable, "Quickly look at the task the boss gave you."


    Jonathan took out the chip from his pocket and ced it on his bracelet to read.


    The first line of the task information read, "Mission,pletely destroy the port of ck Sea City."


    Jonathan was dumbfounded, "???"


    What on earth was wrong with these NPCs?! Why were they so hellbent on destroying this port?!

 Chapter 8: "The lapdogs of the consortium"

    <h4>Chapter 8: "Thepdogs of the consortium"</h4>


    Jonathan scrolled quickly through the details.


    "Mission: Destroy the port of ck sea City, preventing the ''Kraken'' giant cargo ship from docking in ck sea City. This is mission n A."


    "If you choose to carry out n A, you mustplete the port bombing mission before August 11. After August 11, the Kraken will enter the waters of ck sea City, and the mission will be considered a failure at that time."


    "Mission n B secretly board the ''Kraken'' giant cargo ship and install explosive devices to sink it."


    "If you choose to carry out n B, you must destroy it before the Kraken enters the waters of ck sea City on August 11."


    "The ultimate goal of the mission is to prevent the Kraken from entering the range of ck sea City. Repeat, the ultimate goal of the mission is to prevent the Kraken from entering the range of ck sea City."


    From this mission information, Jonathan sensed an urgent atmosphere.


    What''s the deal with the Kraken? Why is Mechanical Dawn so desperate to prevent it froming to ck sea City?


    The Kraken is a giant cargo ship, there should be nothing unusual about the ship itself, the only unusual thing could be the cargo loaded on the ship!


    What kind of cargo is so important... no, so terrifying to Mechanical Dawn?


    They even decided to blow up the port and destroy the cargo ship to prevent the cargo-loaded ship from entering ck sea City.


    Just what did it carry?


    Jonathan suppressed his throbbing heart and continued to look at the mission data.


    "Pier No. 5 in the harbor district, warehouse 6308 in area D will regrly replenish arms, you can go there for supplies if needed. Ruby Bar on Peace Avenue in the harbor district is amon safehouse for members of the organization, it has medical equipment and weapon maintenance equipment, and will regrly replenish small firearms and ammunition, the entrance password is ''Give me a Drunken Deep Blue''. The owner of the Hunter''s Shooting Club in the North District can provide mission funds. The prosthetic limbboratory on the third floor of the Rick Technology Company headquarters can provide technical assistance for the mission executor..."


    The more Jonathan read, the more he felt his hair stand on end, the organization of the Mechanical Dawn was frighteningly powerful.


    He sorted out this content - first, Mechanical Dawn can mobilize the dock warehouses of ck sea City as arms depots. Second, Mechanical Dawn has many members in ck sea City, to the point where they need a public safehouse for gatherings. Third, Mechanical Dawn seems to be very wealthy, with dedicated personnel in charge of disbursing mission funds. Fourth, it''s highly likely that Rick Technology Company directly belongs to Mechanical Dawn, or that Rick Tech is a shellpany set up by Mechanical Dawn.


    Fox looked at Jonathan, "Finished reading? Anything you want to say?"


    "I''m calcting how many lives I need toplete this mission, would a hundred suffice?" Under immense pressure, Jonathan quipped bleakly.


    "Get it done, whatever it takes, "Fox said indifferently. "Even if we have to cost lives, as long as we can prevent what''s on the Kraken from entering ck sea City, our sacrifices will be worth it. It doesn''t matter if we die, ourrades will continue toplete the mission before August 11."


    Jonathan deeply suspected that Mechanical Dawn was a brainwashing organization. The man in front of him, codenamed "Fox", seemed thoroughly brainwashed, even disregarding his own life.


    He looked down at the time on his bracelet. The date in the Second World was July 28, 2086, and the current time was 00:23, midnight.


    "We and the other teams have less than half a month toplete the mission," Fox said. "It''s quite urgent."


    "I know, I''ll formte the action n as soon as possible," Jonathan said. "But as a security intern on probation, I also have tasks that I mustplete. The people from the Investigation Department aren''t easy to fool."


    "The Investigation Department, thepdogs of the consortium." Fox sneered, "You''re responsible for stealing intelligence, and I''m responsible for executing the action. We can discuss the n together."


    Jonathan slowly nodded.


    He stood with Fox in the living room for a while, seeing that he had no intention to speak, he said, "I have things to do, do as you wish."


    Jonathan wasn''t clear about how the members of the Mechanical Dawn''s squads interacted with each other, nor did he know if there were any established rules when carrying out missions in this organization. Saying "Do as you wish" was enough to express the end of the conversation, and Jonathan indeed had his things to do.


    Under Fox''s gaze, he carefully looked around every room in the house. The room facing the sunrise was a bedroom with a small wardrobe. Another room was a secondary bedroom, which was used as a storage room. There were two almost dead nts on the balcony.


    He turned to the kitchen. The kitchen was fully equipped with pots and pans. He opened the old refrigerator with peelingcquer, and there were some ingredients inside.


    The house was very lively, but the owner of the house was dead, and ''Jonathan'' was now upying it.


    He closed the refrigerator door and walked straight into the bedroom to rummage through the wardrobe.


    Jonathan took a towel and found some clean home clothes and walked into the bathroom, closing the door with a bang.


    Jonathan had a kind of thought.


    Things were already so bad, he couldn''tpromise any further. The worst oue was death, but before that, he wanted to struggle a bit more - who knew, he might just make it through.


    He was a qualified undercover agent and an excellent actor. He was ying the role of a rookie intern in the Investigation Department, fully immersing himself in the role, thinking of himself as "Jonathan", a young man with excellent grades who just graduated from university and found a job.


    And nothing more logical than a young man showering after work.


    The warm water flowed down, and Jonathan hypnotized himself, repeatedly telling himself to stay calm.


    He spent twenty minutes taking a shower and adjusting his mindset. Twenty minutester, he came out of the bathroom in clean clothes, only to find Fox still sitting in the living room.


    Seeing Jonathane out, Fox nced at him coldly and then shifted his gaze away.


    Jonathan didn''t quite understand what this guy was nning to do. He took a towel to dry his hair, thinking for a moment, then asked him, "Your next n is..."


    "Stand by," Fox said.


    Standing by? Here? Why won''t this guy leave?


    In order to hide his emotion, Jonathan turned and went to the kitchen. He took out a few ingredients from the refrigerator, nning to eat something casually.


    He hadn''t eaten since the skull surgery and was already starving. Luckily, the kitchen equipment wasn''t too "high-tech", and still used clean energy like gas. He turned on the stove, put a pot on it, and nned to make some noodles.


    Fox watched intently until a gurgle sounded from his stomach.


    Fox "..."


    Jonathan "..."


    "...Hungry?" he asked hesitantly.


    "Yes," Fox answered quickly.


    So, Jonathan added a handful of noodles to the pot and fried two eggs.


    He stared at the boiling noodles in the pot, absorbed in his thoughts. From Fox''s hesitation-free eptance of the meal, Jonathan inferred that he wasn''t as cold and invulnerable as he appeared on the surface. He even... seemed somewhat unguarded, he trusted hisrades.


    If it were Jonathan, he wouldn''t eat food prepared by a stranger at this critical juncture, perhaps because he had been overly influenced by various novels and movies.


    When the noodles were ready, Jonathan served his portion and ced it on the dining table, telling Fox, "You serve yourself."


    Fox got up from the sofa, found a bowl, and opened his fingers. The noodles, along with the remaining egg, were lifted and floated into the bowl without a single drop of soup sshing out.


    Jonathan''s hand, which was holding the chopsticks, trembled imperceptibly.


    This was a superpower! Fox actually had a superpower!


    Fox sat across from him with his bowl and lifted his hand to take off his hood and mask. Beneath the mask, his face was pale as snow, with white eyshes, eyebrows, and hair. His pupils were a faint pink, and there were faint red blood vessels visible on his neck and cheeks. If it weren''t for this faint red, he would look like a drifting ghost, a lifeless walking corpse.


    Fox''s light pink eyes stared at Jonathan. "What are you looking at? "Never seen an albino?"


    He hadn''t seen albinism before, but what Jonathan cared about was not his unique appearance, but the superpower he inadvertently revealed.


    "I thought you wouldn''t take off your mask while eating," Jonathan diverted the topic.


    "How can I eat with the mask on?" Fox asked back, seemingly perplexed.


    "That''s what I should be asking you," Jonathan said slowly.


    Fox seemed to realize something, "You thought I wore a mask to look cool?"


    "I never said that," Jonathan said, bowing his head to eat his noodles.


    Fox looked frustrated as he picked up a noodle and took a bite, only to burn himself. He angrily opened his palm, controlling the noodles in the bowl to float up and down in the air, cooling it quickly. Only when the temperature of the noodles finally dropped did hefortably start taking big bites again.


    This guy... didn''t seem too smart.


    Jonathan had made in boiled noodles, adding just a pinch of salt, the taste was hard topliment, but Fox was not picky at all, eating with gusto, finishing his meal in a few bites. His way of eating reminded Jonathan of the piglets at his grandfather''s farm.


    "You do the dishes," Jonathan made a request, wanting to test if Fox would agree.


    Withoutint, Fox began rinsing their bowls in the sink.


    "Turn the faucet down a bit, water is expensive," Jonathan said.


    "Since when did you be so nosy? This isn''t your house! You don''t have to pay the water and electricity bills!"


    "ying a role means imitating every detail, whether in public or private," Jonathan came up with an unassable excuse.


    Fox, restraining his temper, carefully manipted water to clean the dishes before stowing them away.


    Jonathan observed in secret. Fox''s superpower seemed to be rted to water; he can''t control the bowls or other objects to float, only the flow of water. Water was the medium.


    Initially, Jonathan feared Fox had close ties with the original owner, so he was extra cautious. Through sessive conversations and probes, Jonathan preliminarily determined that the original owner and Fox were not well-acquainted, this was probably their first meeting. Because when Fox took off his mask, he said, "Haven''t you seen albinism before?"


    This sentence directly proved that the original owner had never seen Fox''s real face.


    In that case, Jonathan didn''t need to be so anxious. He was truly afraid that his partner would be someone who knew the original owner extremely well; in that case, he might give himself away in just a few sentences.


    Jonathan was still lucky this time. He met Fox, who knew nothing of him and seemed to harbor little suspicion.


    Most importantly, Fox has a superpower.


    If he killed the Fox, could he gain Fox''s superpower?

 Chapter 9: What kind of monsters?

    <h4>Chapter 9: What kind of monsters?</h4>


    "You''re a bit different from the rumors," Fox said, crossing his arms and leaning against the closet.


    "Oh?"


    This was a difficult question to answer, as any response could give him away. The best course of action was to be vague.


    "They say you''re cold like a machine, precise like aputer, a strict enforcer," Fox continued. "Even though you haven''t awakened any extraordinary abilities, you''re an indispensable strategist for the organization."


    "Heh." Augh came from Jonathan''s throat.


    However, hisughter carried little joy and no hint of smugness.


    Fox''s pink eyes met his deep ck ones for a long moment before he said disinterestedly, "No reaction at all."


    "What kind of reaction do you want?" Jonathan asked. "I can provide any reaction suitable for the role I''m currently ying."


    "Are all undercovers as devoted to their role as you?"Fox frowned. "Not showing their true face even to theirrades?"


    Jonathan quietly looked at Fox until he averted his gaze.


    "What''s the next instruction?" Fox tossed a droplet of water up and down with his pale fingertips. He said casually, "Don''t forget, we have less than half a month."


    From his words, it was clear that in this two-man team, Jonathan was the decision-maker, while Fox was the executor. Jonathan''s position in Mechanical Dawn was also higher than Fox''s, and he had a good reputation among the organization members.


    "Investigate the bombing site at the port," Jonathan issued his "instruction".


    After careful consideration, he felt that this was the most appropriatemand. From the information he had read and gathered, the port was a ce riddled with gangs and chaos, and more than one bombing had urred there. The reason for the bombings could be gang fights, or something else... For example, Mechanical Dawn might choose to destroy the port to prevent the Kraken fromnding, making it impossible for the ship to dock.


    It was necessary to rify some basic information before carrying out the port bombing mission, so Jonathan gave this instruction to Fox.


    Fox didn''t raise any objections to Jonathan''smand. He asked in detail, " Personnel movement, on-site investigation of the bombing, or tracking and monitoring of suspicious persons? There''s more than one bombing case at the port."


    "Everything," Jonathan said.


    "You''re being overly cautious." Fox muttered, "Alright, I''ll go right away. If there are any temporary instructions, contact me via the bracelet."


    He fastened the silver mask on his face, pulled down the hood, went to the balcony, opened the window, and his body silently turned into a transparent water stream, blending into the heavy rain outside the window, disappearing into the night.


    Jonathan walked over to close the window to prevent rain from sshing into the room. Without Fox, he could think quietly in a peaceful environment.


    Jonathan was good at setting ns and managing his time, and now he needed to use his ability to n his future.


    Jonathan went into the bedroom and took out a piece of white paper and a fountain pen with only half a tube of ink left on the table. This was his habit. Writing things on paper could make his thoughts clearer, and the sound of the pen rubbing against the paper could make him more focused.


    At present, Jonathan''s main crises came from two aspects.


    "First, Mechanical Dawn. Second, the Investigation Department." He wrote on the paper.


    Being undercover in the Investigation Department was dangerous, but Jonathan had the organization''s files to back him up. He nned to stay up all night reading through the hundreds of pages of information to fully understand this federal official department. The information rted to "Security Officer Jonathan" needed to be memorized carefully, his life, contacts, habits, and every detail had to be known. Faking amnesia was a temporary excuse, definitely not a long-term one.


    As an intern security officer, Jonathan hadn''t been in the Investigation Department for long, and it was normal for him not to be familiar with his colleagues. He didn''t need to act overly familiar with his teammates or team leader, maintaining a reasonable distance was enough.


    Compared to the Investigation Department, Mechanical Dawn made Jonathan more uneasy.


    He had hundreds of pages detailing the Investigation Department, but what about Mechanical Dawn?


    He had nothing. He was extremely unfamiliar with the organization. He didn''t know the purpose of the organization''s establishment, or who the leader was, and he had to slowly figure out and guess his role in the organization.


    Jonathan''s teammate was Fox. Fortunately, this person hadn''t interacted with the original Jonathan, and judging from his performance, he seemed a bit inexperienced, like a naive young man, which made it easier for Jonathan to fool him.


    If it were someone else, it might not have been so easy.


    Jonathan''s pen tapped on the paper as he pondered.


    In his future undercover life in the Investigation Department, Jonathan would strive for stability. As for Mechanical Dawn, it was more difficult. He had a mission and was undercover. He probably wouldn''t have many opportunities to interact with other members of the organization. The main problem was Fox, who was always by his side. If he could fool Fox, he wouldn''t have to worry in the short term.


    Having nned solutions for the crisis, Jonathan crossed out the "Mechanical Dawn" and "Investigation Department" with his pen.


    Next, he had to n for "missions".


    He currently had two missions.


    Mission one, investigate the bombing at the port. This mission was assigned by the game system.


    Mission two, prevent the Kraken from docking at ck Sea City. This was a mission given by the Mechanical Dawn.


    Jonathan emotionlessly crossed out mission two.


    He could possibly find some leads by investigating the bombing case, but as for bombing the port to sink the Kraken... that was simply suicidal.


    This was a real game, a game without a save function, where if you lost your life, it might be gone forever. He couldn''t gamble with his life. Even a hundred save slots might not be enough for such a dangerous mission.


    Jonathan bit the end of his pen, his eyebrows furrowed as he began to analyze mission one.


    The cause of the bombing at the docking port was obviously not as simple as a gang fight. It was very likely rted to the arrival of the Kraken. He wondered if the Investigation Department had noticed anything unusual about the bombing case?


    Moreover, Jonathan suspected the existence of a "third party" in the bombing case.


    There was more than one organization or power trying to blow up the port.


    He made a rtionship map.


    The first party is the Investigation Department. Their goal was to protect the port and apprehend criminals.


    The second party, Mechanical Dawn. Their goal was to blow up the port.


    Mechanical Dawn had assigned Jonathan the mission to "bomb the port." This was the mission instruction he had received tonight, and the organization had assigned him the teammate "Fox". However, before he epted the mission before he officially crossed over to the second world, the port had already been bombed once.


    Which force had carried out this wave of bombings?


    Gang fights were quitemon in ck Sea City, but a typical gang fight wouldn''t trigger a special mission from the game system. There must be something special about this bombing casepared to previous ones, which is why it triggered a mission.


    Jonathan wrote in the paper - the third party is to be determined.


    The reason for the bombing was suspected to be rted to the Kraken, but this was only spection one, and there was also spection two.


    Jonathan''s second guess was that Mechanical Dawn had dispatched more than one mission team. The previous bombing case was done by another team from Mechanical Dawn, but they had failed.


    Fox had said, "It doesn''t matter if we die, ourrades will continue the mission before August 11th."


    For a mission like bombing the port and sinking the freighter, Mechanical Dawn couldn''t possibly put their hopes on one team. Therefore, the perpetrator of the previous wave of bombings could still be Mechanical Dawn.


    Jonathan added a sentence under the words "third party, to be determined": "The third party is suspected to still be Mechanical Dawn."


    He looked at the few short lines on the paper, thinking for a long time.


    The undercurrents in ck Sea City, the frequent bombings at the port, the orders from Mechanical Dawn, the missions issued by the game system... everything revolved around one core point, the Kraken, this giant freighter that was about to dock in ck Sea City.


    The Kraken was the eye of a storm, bringing with it conspiracy and fog, slowly approaching.


    Jonathan grabbed the paper on the table, tore it into unrecognizable small pieces, then went to the toilet and flushed the pieces down. This piece of paper had to be destroyed, it couldn''t be seen by anyone.


    He now knew where the breakthrough forpleting the mission was - the Kraken.


    If he could find out what cargo was loaded on the Kraken, and why Mechanical Dawn was so afraid of it docking in ck Sea City, then things would be clear.


    Jonathan returned to his room and sat in his chair thinking. He turned on his encryptedwork connection and searched for information about the "Kraken" online.


    "Kraken, a giant bulk carrier, was built in 2086. This is the first year of the Kraken''s service. The Kraken has a maximum load of 800,000 tons, making it thergest bulk carrier in the world."


    Bulk carriers generally transport goods that cannot be loaded into containers, such as sand, oil, and coal.


    What could be transported on the Kraken?


    Jonathan made several searches, but there was too little information about this freighter. He couldn''t find any useful intelligence, so he opened the mission chip given to him by the organization, which still had some unread content.


    He clicked through the info from beginning to end. Also nothing.


    Frustrating dead ends.


    Jonathan had a thought, and the game system popped up a light curtain.


    He blinked, surprised to find that the progress of the port bombing investigation had somehow increased.


    "Mission progress 5%."


    The proceed increase in mission progress at least proved that his direction of the investigation was correct, and he should continue along this clue.


    Jonathan took a long breath. Seeing the mission progress brought a sense of aplishment, like solving a difficult math problem... no, it was even more satisfying than solving a math problem. This sense of achievement was second only to earning money from working.


    He leaned back on the not-so-soft bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He didn''t sleep, but switched the disy content of his bracelet, checking the information of "Jonathan" and the intelligence of the Investigation Department given by the organization.


    He watched from night until dawn, while the heavy rain outside the window never stopped.


    At nine in the morning, the balcony window rattled open.


    Fox climbed in through the window in a sorry state. He was soaked to the skin, with a cut on his cheek, blood trailing from his cheek, and visibly injured.


    Fox looked at Jonathan who came out of the bedroom and opened his mouth to say, "Hey! You..."


    "I''m not ''hey'', you''d better call me by my code name." Jonathan looked at his wet footprints. "You''ve dirtied the floor."


    "R, richguy... you..." Fox''s expression twisted as he called out the codename, then quickly shut his mouth, saying self-deprecatingly, "Whatever I call, it''s all the same, I''m injured, do you have a first aid kit here?"


    Jonathan went back to the bedroom and fetched the first aid kit from the bedside.


    Fox casually took off his mask. His pure white hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, and his already colorless lips seemed even paler. Fox casually took off his coat and threw it on the floor. There were actually three huge scratches on his chest. The wounds were deep, but there he was, alive and mobile.


    Jonathan nced at the floor. The water traces he left when he came over from the balcony were clear, with no blood mixed in. The burst clothes on his chest also had only a small blood stain.


    "The number of monsters wandering in the dark has increased." Fox gritted his teeth and took off his shirt, opened the first aid kit and proficiently poured out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide for disinfection, and then applied medicine and wrapped the bandage by himself.


    Jonathan echoed with interest, "More than before?"


    "Yes, more than before, I encountered threest night." Fox gasped for a while after finishing the bandage, and said solemnly, "They took advantage of the heavy rain tond and wandered on the dock full of containers, looking for hosts..."


    Monsters? What kind of monsters?


    Jonathan anxiously wanted to bite his lip.


    The second world had too many things beyond hisprehension. Justst night he''d studied how to use face payment correctly, how to enter and exit public ces, how to shop online, and how to use portable devices... even cramming the history of this world, from the establishment to the glorious technological revolution and humans attempting to establish colonies on extraterrestrials, as well as the names and general course of some major historical events.


    The appearance of the yer Daniel reminded Jonathan that he should be more careful. He couldn''t make the same low-level mistakes as Daniel.


    He was already hard and careful, but the "monsters" mentioned by Fox once again exceeded hisprehension.


    In order to conceal his anxiety and unease, Jonathan said to Fox, "You brought in too much water. Clean up the balcony and living room."


    Fox "..."


    Fox scowled. "If it weren''t for my ability to control liquids, I would have died from excessive blood loss long ago. You don''t help me bandage, but me me for dirtying the floor." He angrily formed the water traces on the ground into a water ball and threw it into the kitchen sink.

 Chapter 10: From Detroit?

    <h4>Chapter 10: From Detroit?</h4>


    Fox finished bandaging his wounds and limped to the couch, breathing shakily as he suppressed the pain.


    "Tell me about what happened." Jonathan walked to the front of the sofa and looked down at him.


    Foxughed, "It seems the rumors are true, you are indeed ruthless."


    He shifted to getfortable and began recounting, "I arrived at the portst night and went to investigate the st site as per your instructions. There were security guards on patrol there, and it took me a lot of effort to scan the site data."


    Fox pulled a metal sphere from his pocket and tossed it to Jonathan, who caught it deftly. It opened in his palm, projecting a 3D hologram of the scene with analytical data.


    "The range of the explosion is thirty meters. The explosive is estimated to be a homemade Molotov cocktail..."


    A homemade Molotov cocktail, this is rather crude equipment. Considering Mechanical Dawn''s ability to mobilize the port warehouse, their members would not only use such shabby homemade Molotov cocktails when they act. At the very least, it would be regr military ammunition.


    By this inference, the mastermind behind this bombing might not be the Mechanical Dawn.


    Jonathan tapped the projected image, and another explosion scene appeared. The range of this explosion was smaller, less than ten meters, and the explosive was estimated to be a ss-burning bottle, with ethanol as the fuel.


    After continuously switching through the data from the st sites, Jonathan could confirm his previous spection.


    The culprit behind the previous wave of bombings was not the Mechanical Dawn. There was an invisible third party involved in the port bombing case. As for what this unknown third party aims at and whether it is rted to Kraken, further investigation is needed.


    Fox''s actions were indeed efficient, he managed to get so much data in one night.


    Jonathan tossed the metal sphere back into Fox''s arms, "Go on, what happened after?"


    "I originally nned toe back and give you the data as soon as I got it, but then I suddenly heard someone scream. By the time I got to where the sound wasing from, a security guard on patrol at the scene had already been killed by a monster. It was trying to crawl into the corpse toy its eggs." Fox''s face showed a disgusted expression, "I cleared the monster, but the security guard''s partner rushed over... He saw me, so I had to kill him along with the monster. I took care of the bodies."


    "That''s the first monster," Jonathan said, "You encountered threest night."


    "Uh-huh. The second monster actively approached me. It had parasitized a dock worker, who had be skin and bones after being parasitized and had no more nutrients for it to absorb. I guess it was eager to umte energy for the next metamorphosis, wanted to switch to a new host, and it ran into me, ready to parasitize me." Fox said ufortably, "Disgusting. It was the second one that injured me."


    "The third one," Jonathan said.


    "The third one isn''t worth mentioning, it had just crawled up the dock from the sea when I found it," Fox shrugged. "It didn''t have time to find a human host, it was a fragile juvenile."


    Monsters, a type of creature that lived in the sea, would crawl ashore to find hosts andy eggs in human bodies.


    These monsters were not weak inbat, capable of killing security guards who were far stronger than average humans, and even injured Fox, who had super abilities.


    Jonathan bitterlyughed in his mind. He should have known, in a world where cyberpunk and supernatural elementsbined, anything bizarre was probable.


    The danger level of the Second World went up another notch in his mind.


    "Why are there so many of these monsters all of a sudden tonight? We might not even encounter one in a month normally," Fox said. "We should report to the organization."


    "Yeah, we should report..." Jonathan''s voice trailed off, themunicator in his pocket was vibrating, it was the Communicator from the Investigation Department.


    The screen of themunicator showed the caller��Martin.


    He pressed the answer key. "Captain."


    "Jonathan, how are you recovering?" Martin''s voice was somewhat serious.


    "What happened?" Jonathan noticed his tone was off.


    "Rett and Taron from Team 6 were killed during dock patrolst night," Martin said. "The post at the port is now vacant and urgently needs people to go over. Jonathan, we''ve lost too many people these days and can''t spare any manpower. If you''ve recovered, it would be best toe back and execute the mission as soon as possible."


    "...Okay. I''ll be back at the Investigation Department tomorrow morning," Jonathan said.


    Martin was clearly busy, he didn''t say any superfluous words and hung up themunicator as soon as he finished exining what needed to be exined.


    Jonathan put down themunicator, his gaze focused on Fox sitting on the sofa, listening to themunication and enjoying the drama.


    Rett and Taron belonged to the Field Team, affiliated with Team Six next door. Jonathan had seen their files. Fox had witnessed one of them being killed by a monsterst night and then killed the other one who came to check.


    "If you go to patrol the port, wouldn''t it make my operation there a lot easier?" Fox excitedly said. "It would also be convenient for us to set up explosives at the port. Haha, good luck, the guy I killedst night wasn''t killed in vain, he turned out to be from your Field Team."


    "Yeah, you killed a member of our team, which left the field team short-handed, and my three-day vacation got shortened to one day," Jonathan said. "Going back to work means I have to spend long hours with my teammates, which will prevent me frommunicating with you and nning in a timely manner."


    "I didn''t think of that... purely idental though."


    "I wouldn''t expect you to." Jonathan rubbed his forehead, "No matter, idents happen. Wasn''t your fault, ns must adapt to circumstances. If anything urgentes up and you can''t contact me, handle it yourself and report after."


    "Okay," Fox nodded.


    His adjustment time has been reduced. He stayed up all night reading documentsst night, now he must go to sleep to rest and recharge.


    "I have to get busy, don''t move around until your injuries are healed," Jonathan said.


    "Wait!"


    "What?"


    "I''m hungry, is there anything to eat?" he asked seriously, "I''ve been running around all night without sleep or food, I get especially hungry after using my abilities."


    "There are no ingredients in the kitchen, order takeout for us both."


    Fox: "...Alright, I''ll order."


    The doorbell rang 30 minutester. Daniel stood there in a delivery uniform with bags of food. "You ordered delivery- oh, senpai! You live here?"


    Jonathan was surprised to see him, "Earning tuition money?"


    "Yes, I''m trying to earn money for college, but I don''t know if I can make enough... the prospects seem bleak." Daniel handed over the bag of food, "I have another order to deliver, see youter, senior!"


    Jonathan waved at him and closed the door.


    "Who was that?"


    "A guy who got into the Mechanical Department of the ck Sea College, the person I''m impersonating is also a graduate of ck Sea College." Jonathan took out the takeout box.


    "Mechanical Department? That''s a talent the organization needs." Fox''s hand, which was busy unpacking the utensils, paused, "What''s his family''s financial situation like?"


    "Not so good, his parents run a convenience store," Jonathan said.


    Fox suddenly understood, "You know so much about him? You''re already considering recruiting him, aren''t you?"


    So the Mechanical Dawn organization would recruit new members?


    "Don''t be too hasty," Jonathan replied calmly.


    "You''re right, we need to observe him for a while longer," Fox said, opening the takeout box.


    "But people from poor backgrounds are easier to recruit, they can be easily moved by money," Jonathan suddenly said, "Just a little benefit and you can bind their interests to ours."


    "Report about the appearance of the monster at the harbor, along with the name of the boy who got into ck Sea College. If he qualifies, the organization will send someone to contact him"


    "Okay, you write the report," Jonathan unceremoniously ordered him, "The boy''s name is Daniel."


    Fox held back his displeasure, and said, "I''ll write it... I don''t have anything else to do while I recover."


    After eating, Fox carefully wrote the report and gave it to Jonathan for review. Once Jonathan approved, Fox sent it off with relief.


    Fox''s report received Jonathan''s approval, which made him very satisfied. Jonathan saw the typical format for reporting to the Mechanical Dawn organization in Fox''s report, which also pleased him.


    He noticed that Fox didn''t use the word "monster" in his report, but rather "Xenobiotics creature." He thought that "Xenobiotics creature" was the formal written term for "monster."


    Jonathan returned to his room, while Fox curled up on the sofa with a thin nket to rest. With his eyes closed, a tuft of white hair poked out of the nket, like a cat that thinks it''s well hidden in a nket.


    Reviewing Fox''s words and actions, Jonathan mentally evaluated him, "Apart from being obedient and having superpowers, he''s just like a silly cat."


    He hadn''t finished reading part of the Investigation Department''s materials, and the remaining time wasn''t enough for Jonathan to go through the materials carefully. He skimmed through, looking for sections rted to "alien creature." At the end of the material, there was a section about the Investigation Department''s emergency team. The team leader and members are unknown, and the office is located on the third floor underground of the Investigation Building. The main duty of this invisible team is to secretly eliminate alien creatures that appear everywhere.


    The Investigation Department has many secrets, such as the mysterious emergency team. The Second World also has many strange things, like the "monster" or "Xenobiotics creature" Fox mentioned.


    With not much time left for rest, Jonathan put down his bracelet and forced himself to sleep.


    ...


    Jonathan slept for eight hours. After the rm went off, he got up, washed, and changed clothes. He took a handful of cold water and sshed it on his face, staring at himself in the mirror for a while before muttering, "Fear will stop people in their tracks."


    He couldn''t stop, whether, in the First World or the Second World, he had to keep moving forward.


    Jonathan pushed open the bathroom door and walked into the living room, just in time to see Fox crawling in from the balcony through the window.


    "I went to buy groceries this morning, ordering takeout is too expensive." Fox, carrying bags of food, looked expectantly at Jonathan.


    "Right, it seems like it''s time for breakfast," Jonathan said, "Put the excess food in the fridge."


    Due to Fox buying food, Jonathan''s tolerance limit for him has appropriately raised a bit.


    He prepared two simple breakfasts, and after eating, Fox took the initiative to clean up the dishes.


    As he washed, he asked, "I''ve mostly recovered from my injuries. Do we have any instructions for today?"


    That fast? Jonathan thought incredulously.


    Does every person with super abilities have such recovery power? Fox hadn''t relied on any technological recovery pod to heal his wounds, yet he had still recovered very quickly, beyond human norms.


    "No, not for now," Jonathan answered, changing his shoes at the door. "If I''m assigned to patrol the harbor area, I''ll give you instructions. Otherwise, stand by. You can move freely meantime."


    He grabbed an umbre and stepped outside.


    The rain in ck Sea City had been persistent, making it quite a rainy city. Jonathan waited for the hover rail car at the station, and one minuteter, it arrived on time.


    Without the neon lights and holographic advertisements, ck Sea City during the daytime seemed a lot more modest. Looking around, all the buildings appeared deep gray under the hazy rain, giving off a sense of oppression.


    After a few dozen minutes, Jonathan arrived at the Investigation Department building.


    "Wee back, intern security officer Jonathan. Please ce your umbre on the public rack." Moss''s voice rang in his ears.


    Jonathan did as instructed, cing his umbre on the rack before taking the elevator to Martin''s office.


    He knocked on the door.


    "Come in," Martin said.


    Jonathan''s heart skipped a beat entering the office there were four or five people in the office, all members of Squad Seven, all ncing his way.


    Martin rapped his desk, "Alright, Let''s begin to discuss our mission target."


    Jonathan walked to an empty chair, pulled it out on its casters, and sat down.


    Martin activated the holographic projector, and a lifelike three-dimensional figure was projected into the air.


    "This is our target this time. Sean, a level six citizen,mitted first-degree murder, but due to his mental illness, he isn''t serving his sentence in jail but is receiving treatment at the ck Sea City Mental Hospital," Martin exined, "Last night, he escaped after attacking his psychotherapist."


    "How did he manage to do that?" The man sitting on Jonathan''s left asked, "Is his psychotherapist alive?"


    "His psychotherapist suffered minor injuries, nothing serious," Martin responded, "As for how he escaped... ording to analysis, he likely ''awakened''."


    "''Awakened''? He became an awakened person ?" All members of Squad Seven expressed their surprise.


    "Moss judges that the power he awakened isn''t lethal. The hospital''s security devices were not damaged by violence, so he most likely used his super ability to escape," Martin exined, "Our mission is to catch him back. If he resists violently or threatens the safety of the public during the process, we have the authority to kill him on the spot."


    "I have a question," Jonathan said, "Is this patient''s mental state stable? Any signs preceding the escape and attack?"


    "Indeed there were," Martin frowned slightly, "The hospital provided us with Sean''s treatment videos. He insisted that he wasn''t ill, and he repeatedly emphasized to the doctor that he wasn''t from ck Sea City, but from a city called ''Detroit''..."


    "Sounds like he''s still quite ill," someone quipped, earning chuckles of agreement.


    However, Jonathan wasn''t in the mood to join their banter.


    Detroit, the mentally ill fugitive Sean imed he was from Detroit.


    Sean is also a yer from the First World!

 Chapter 11: "Target spotted"

    <h4>Chapter 11: "Target spotted"</h4>


    "Moss, show the footage from the hospital"


    "Yes."


    In the all-white treatment room, the chief psychiatrist was seated behind a desk, facing Sean, a mentally ill criminal, across the table.


    Sean''s face was gaunt, unshaven, his eyes hollowed and underlined with heavy bags. He was bound to a chair, straining his eyes wide, clenching his fists. "I''m not from the ck Sea city," he strained against the restraints desperately, "I am Sean, that''s true, but I haven''tmitted any crimes. I''m not a mentally ill criminal. I''m not crazy!"


    "Alright, I understand. Please try to stay calm, Mr. Sean." The psychiatrist leaned back, his tone cautious as if afraid to upset the emotionally charged Sean.


    "What do you understand?" Sean burst out. "I''m not lying! I''m no criminal! I haven''tmitted a crime! I''m not mentally ill!"


    "Mr. Sean, I understand your sentiments." The psychiatrist''s hand stealthily pressed the emergency button beneath the table, ready to summon the guards outside the door if Sean showed signs of aggression.


    "You understand nothing! I just went to sleep, and when I woke up, I found myself in this hellhole! I am Sean, from Detroit, I haven''tmitted any crime!" Sean yelled, in a state of copse. His despair and confusion were palpable even through the holographic projection, "Lawyer! Get me awyer! I want to call the police!"


    "Mr. Sean, as a level six citizen, your political rights have been stripped. You have no right to appeal, and we cannot get awyer for you."


    "Bullshit! What is this hellhole?" Sean broke free and lunged, but the psychiatrist hit the button. Guards rushed in, forcibly pinning Sean down.


    "I''m not a criminal, I''m not!"


    The psychiatrist swiftly drew a sedative from his coat pocket and injected it into Sean''s neck.


    Sean murmured nkly, "Let me...go home..."


    Sedatives quickly plunged him into unconsciousness.


    Jonathan watched this unfold with a nk expression.


    His own beginning had been dangerous enough, butpared to Sean''s, he still was the lucky one.


    Sean was extremely agitated and in an irrational state. If he could find calm, he should be able to summon the game system''s interface and understand his current status. His panic and fear had cost him his judgment.


    Jonathan wondered, how many yers had actually read the notices and documents before signing their consent to y the game? How many had remembered and decided to heed the six pieces of advice? He knew that many yers didn''t even nce at the agreement notifications before clicking confirm.


    Sean probably hadn''t read the game''s email. He was ignorant of the survival rules, and that put him at a disadvantage.


    Jonathan knew that federal capital punishment had been abolished eighty years ago. If Sean chose to stay in the mental hospital and undergo treatment, he would be safe for life, albeit devoid of freedom.


    But Sean had chosen to run.


    So the enforcement department was allowed to use lethal force during his capture, even kill him if needed.


    Jonathan had killed two robbers without facing any repercussions. If Squad Seven members were to kill Sean, they might even be awarded amendation.


    "Criminal Seancks experience in evading pursuit. After escaping from the mental hospital, he''s been spotted on the streets multiple times. The city surveincework has tracked his whereabouts," Martin stated. "Map."


    Moss presented a city map, marking Sean''s locations and routes with small red dots and lines.


    "He''s active in the northern district. An hour ago, he attempted to buy food at a convenience store, but his ount was frozen so he couldn''t make the purchase. Based on my estimations, Sean is still in the northern district. He can''t take public transport or enter public spaces." Martin zoomed in on the map. "The slums in the north district are scantily monitored, an ideal hiding ce for fugitives. We need to focus our search there."


    "Sean''s mental state is highly unstable, his superpowers don''t have lethal force, but their effects are unclear," Martin continued. "We''ll be using abination of long-range and close-range tactics. Myself, Luke, and Simon are on the ground. Robert operates drones. Jonathan, you''re sniper support. Any problems?"


    Long-range sniper? That was a big problem. He''d never even handled a gun!


    Jonathan stayed silent, and Martin took his silence as a newbie''s stage fright. He encouraged him, "If the capture goes smoothly, there won''t be a need for a sniper. Your scores were perfect, I''m confident you can do it."


    "You up for it, rookie?" The man to Jonathan''s left sized him up, provoking him.


    Jonathanbined his features with the information he''d read and recognized him as Robert, the technician of Squad Seven, responsible for repairing and operating various tech devices. He''d studied the profiles of everyone in this room thoroughly.


    "I''m ready, Captain," Jonathan gritted his teeth and epted the order.


    "Good, let''s not dy. Go change into your gear," Martin said.


    Everyone stood and exited the office one by one, turning right to approach a door marked "Equipment Room", scanning their irises individually.


    Jonathan also scanned his iris, then entered.


    Moss''s voice came, "This mission requires bulletproofbat suits, standard firearms, standard closebat knives, K80 new type long-lens sniper rifles, mini drones, data monitors, backupmunicators, explosion-resistant helmets, and emergency medical kits."


    "Please check everything before leaving the equipment room."


    The equipment room was filled with the smell of gunpowder and the scent of gun maintenance oil. Rows of firearms hung from racks, bullets, and clips gleaming coldly innumerable. Jonathan also spotted many oddly shaped pieces of equipment, the purposes of which he couldn''t discern at a nce.


    Jonathan followed his teammates to pick out a bulletproofbat suit of the right size. The ckbat suit was simple and without any extra decorations. It was slightly tight after putting it on, the fabric thin but stic. Jonathan wore a belt, which had many hidden buttons apparently designed for holding guns and magazines.


    He walked over to the gun disy after changing his clothes, learning from his teammates'' actions, and picking a standard pistol ording to the weaponbel to attach to his waist. He also picked two magazines and a short de with a sharp edge and anti-reflective treatment on the de surface.


    Jonathan came to the rack that held the explosion-resistant helmets and put one on. This helmet wasn''t fully enclosed, mainly protecting the back of the head.


    As a sniper, he needed to carry an additional K80 long-lens sniper rifle.


    Upon seeing the disassembled sniper rifle in the disy case, Jonathan''s head began to spin. This gun... was huge, and worse, it was in a disassembled state!


    He felt a prickling sensation on his scalp, staring at theponents of the K80, lost.


    "What''s up?" Robert asked,ing closer, "Assemble it and let''s go. The Captain said your shooting was perfect. I haven''t seen you assemble a gun in all the days we''ve been teammates, let me see."


    Jonathan closed his eyes and touched the gun parts.


    Shutting his eyes briefly to brace himself, Jonathan''s hands flew over theponents - barrel, receiver, stock, scope...assembling at dizzying speeds.


    Robert was dumbstruck, mouth agape.


    When thestponent was assembled, Jonathan''s fingers spasmed unintentionally.


    The god of luck was on Jonathan''s side. His inherent talent for battle instinctively covered weapons assembly. After assembling a gun a thousand times, ten thousand times, even with closed eyes, one could rely on muscle memory to assemble it.


    Jonathan hoisted the K80 onto his shoulder, asking Robert, "Well, how was that?"


    "You''re incredible!" Robert grinned, Robert sidled up to hang the sparemunicator Jonathan had forgotten on his belt."Your hands are upied with the gun, I''ll help you with themunicator."


    "Thanks," Jonathan said.


    He couldn''t rely too much on his battle instinct, without some theory in his mind it wouldn''t work. The textbooks from when "Security Officer Jonathan" studied Criminal Investigation technology in university were still in his bedroom on his desk. He definitely needed to take the time to read them thoroughly and fill in the nk spaces in his brain.


    After leaving the equipment room and entering the corridor with his teammates, Moss said, "Please, Team 7, proceed ording to the yellow indicator light. Captain Martin has arrived at the helipad."


    "Jonathan, you forgot to turn on your helmet." Robert stood shoulder to shoulder with Jonathan.


    "No hands..." Jonathan said, struggling with the weight of the K80.


    Fortunately, this body had physical capabilities far beyond ordinary people, which allowed him to walk briskly down the corridor with a several dozen-kilogram heavy gun.


    Robert, grinning, reached over, "I''ll turn on your helmet for you." He tapped on the side of Jonathan''s helmet.


    Suddenly, Jonathan saw green data imaging in front of his eyes. Moss''s voice came from inside his helmet, "Hello, Trainee Security Officer Jonathan. I will be responsible for filtering teammunication for you and collecting real-time data on wind direction, wind speed, humidity, obstacles, target distance, shooting elevation angle, Earth''s rotational deflection force, etc., to support your sniper uracy."


    ...This advanced?


    The elevator doors opened and closed, and Jonathan and the others ascended to the rooftop helipad.


    Martin stood, fully equipped, in front of a stretched police car, "Prepare to depart."


    "Yes, Captain!" Team 7 responded in unison.


    Everyone got into the car one by one, and Jonathan, with his meter-long sniper rifle, took up thest row by himself.


    The police car levitated into the air.


    At this point, the always silent Simon said, "Everyone checks your gun''s safety, don''t misfire."


    Luke responded dryly, "You say this every time we go on a mission... my ears are calloused."


    Robert turned around from the front seat to exin to a confused Jonathan, "His gun was faulty once, and nearly shot the police car. The car was flying at the time, caught fire on the spot, and almost crashed. It caused Simon to have a psychological trauma, haha..."


    After hearing this, Jonathan reflexively looked down to confirm the safety of his standard firearm was intact.


    "Don''t be too nervous, Jonathan," Martin, sitting in the driver''s seat, said. "You just need to hold your gun steady, aim at the target, and stay focused. Don''t think about anything else."


    "Yes, Captain," Jonathan replied softly.


    The heavy rain continued to pour, unceasing, reflecting the heavy mood in his heart.


    The police car''s windows were covered in raindrops, obstructing Jonathan''s view. After a thirty-minute flight, the car gradually descended.


    "We have reached the location where the target wasst seen," Moss said. "Best sniping position is the signal tower at Freedom Square in the north district. Security Officer Jonathan, please proceed there. Security Officer Robert can go to the signal tower to control the drone swarm. The signal tower is two hundred and thirty meters high, with a rtively open view from the top."


    "Go," Martin said.


    Members of Team 7 split off, Jonathan and Robert ascending the tower with the rifle and drones in tow.


    Reaching the tower top, Jonathan took a deep breath and knelt, bracing the K80 for aiming.


    Robert opened his backpack and took out a metal box. Upon opening the box, five drones, each the size of a fist, separated from the box, plunging into the rain curtain like predatory birds, flying towards the residential area below.


    "These are primarily for scanning. After all, it''s a residential area. We can''t use drones equipped with weapons as they might cause idental casualties," Robert exined, holding a control panel and guiding the drones. "


    "Moss can also control the drone swarm, but its primary function is data aggregation and analysis. Manual operation can saveputational power and allow Moss''s feedback to be faster and more meticulous. Actually, the investigation department should upgrade Moss''s core. It would save us a lot of trouble."


    Jonathan remained silent, fully focused. He was scanning the residential area below through the high-magnification sight, looking for Sean.


    He moved the K80 millimeter by millimeter, catching sight of Captain Martin and Luke and Simon, and confirming their positions. Then he moved away from the sight, his finger lightly resting on the trigger. His concentration was intense, the firearm felt like an extension of his body.


    Jonathan himself hadn''t noticed that his muzzle was subconsciously tracking everything that moved in his sight - whether it was his teammates or ordinary civilians moving about in the slum.


    Jonathan''s bat instinct" had been fully awakened. At this moment, he was like a hawk flying in the sky searching for prey, like a python lurking in a cave. He didn''t need to deliberately do anything; his hunting instinct controlled his body, making him a predator.


    For a moment... just a brief moment, Jonathan had an impulse to shoot at everything that moved in his sight.


    He took a calming breath, adjusted his mindset, and dismissed these thoughts.


    "Target spotted," Moss suddenly said.


    Robert directed the drone swarm to follow.


    Jonathan immediately swung his gun around, searching for the target under Moss''s direction - found him!


    A figure appeared in his sight, a panicked man with bread dangling from his mouth, barefoot and bedraggled as he bolted down the street. Both are pitiful and ridiculous.


    "Target is 9862 meters away, current wind strength is level 23, angle..." data streamed to Jonathan''s vision.


    He locked onto Sean, his index finger resting on the trigger.

 Chapter 12: Why is the soil deep red?

    <h4>Chapter 12: Why is the soil deep red?</h4>


    "Coordinates sent, captain. Target''s heading toward the tower," Robert reported tersely, eyes fixed on the drone footage.


    "Received," Martin said.


    Heavy breathing could be heard over the teammunication channel as the members ran, but Jonathan was oblivious to it. Moss had filtered out the noise to prevent the external environment from affecting his aim.


    There were ten bullets in the K80''s magazine, and Jonathan had brought two spare magazines, which should be more than enough. If his teammates were sessful in their capture, he wouldn''t have a chance to fire a shot.


    Jonathan kept hisposure, tracking Sean''s running figure through the scope.


    Sean was running wildly, without a target, without a direction. As he ran, he tripped and fell on the muddy and slippery ground of the slum. He scrambled to his feet, took a panicked look behind him, and, ignoring his bleeding knee and the bread that had fallen from his mouth, continued to run.


    "He''s running fast, and thankfully in the direction of the signal tower." On Robert''s monitor, the distance between the green dots representing their teammates and the red dot representing their target was closing rapidly. Martin and the others were about to catch up with Sean.


    "Wait," Jonathan, who had been silent, aiming his weapon, suddenly spoke up. "Didn''t they say Sean has no experience in evasion? How did he detect the captain from such a distance and escape?"


    Robert was taken aback. "Could it be his extraordinary ability..."


    "No, didn''t you notice? While Sean was running, he kept looking back, not towards the southwest where the captain was, but behind him." Jonathan moved his sight away from Sean and started searching for any suspicious objects behind him. "He ran not because he knew the captain was nearby��he''s not that sensitive... something else is chasing him, something that scares him, that''s why he ran."


    "Your reasoning seems usible," Robert muttered.


    Jonathan''s analysis indeed made sense. Hesitating for a second, Robert separated one drone from the tracking swarm to scan the area behind Sean.


    Environmental images, 3D imaging of buildings, the topography of a small area, and the sewage system were all scanned. Living objects had nowhere to hide under the scanning beam of the drone.


    There was nothing unusual, nothing was chasing Sean.


    "You''re overthinking, Jonathan," Robert said lightly.


    Jonathan''s lips tightened, and a clear premonition arose in his mind. His temples throbbed, his intuition warning him��things were not so simple.


    One of Jonathan''s inherent talents was "danger evasion." He could acutely sense danger and avoid it. Unbeknownst to him, this talent had been triggered.


    Danger nearby, not from Sean...


    "Unidentified object detected moving at 59 meters per second in the sewer! Unidentified object detected moving at 59 meters per second in the sewer!" Moss issued a warning, "Scanning... Scanplete! The unidentified object is a parasitic hydra! Level three alert! Repeat, level three alert!"


    Moss''s voice was ryed at double speed, quickly and clearly into the ears of all team members.


    "What the��how did a parasitic hydra get from the coast to the city?" Robert, who had always looked rxed, let out a clear expletive. His face looked grim as he manipted the data panel, directing the drone to fly along the sewer line to confirm the position of the parasitic hydra. "The captain and the others are in danger, we didn''t bring weapons and equipment to deal with Xenobiotics creatures!"


    Xenobiotics creatures? Parasitic hydras? What the hell was that?


    Jonathan''s heart rose to his throat. He moved his scope, scanning around the sewer covers on the street.


    "It''s tailing Sean through the sewers!" Robert eximed.


    Jonathan took a brief nce at the data panel in his hand. The small red dot representing Sean was desperately moving forward, while the Xenobiotics creature known as the parasitic hydra was marked as a yellow dot, hanging closely behind Sean.


    He didn''t understand what a parasitic hydra was, but he knew the situation was critical. The parasitic hydra was in the sewer, and its mere presence was enough to make Robert tense, which indicated that this creature was extremely dangerous.


    "Moss! Send a drone here with equipment and call for backup," Robert said urgently. "Captain, retreat! Your bulletproofbat suits can''t withstand the hydra''s attack, and the weapons you carry can hardly inflict substantial damage on it!"


    "No, this is a residential area, it will kill civilians," Martin said. "Luke, you go drive the police car. There''s a methrower on it. Use that to deal with it. Simon and I will continue the pursuit."


    "Understood, captain."


    Jonathan calmly wiped the raindrops off his scope and re-entered his aiming stance.


    He was high on the signal tower, the parasitic hydra was hundreds of meters away from him in the sewer. Unlike Sean and Martin, he was safe.


    Jonathan no longer tried to find the parasitic hydra among the sewer covers, instead, he focused on Sean.


    Sean was a panicked rat, a live bait.


    The bait had been cast, but what kind of monster could it lure?


    Jonathan''s palms were sweaty, but he remained fully focused. He even forgot to blink as raindrops blew into his eyes.


    Rounding a bend, the exhausted Sean slipped. At the same time, arge bump suddenly rose under the cement ground where he was, then shattered.


    A terrifying monster burst from the ground!


    Jonathan''s eyes widened, too shocked to speak.


    It was a creature iling translucent tentacles, with a deformed human body. This body was not its own, it was parasitic. The translucent tentacles were protruding from the human body''s back, mouth, nose, eyes, ears, and other parts, frantically writhing in the air.


    Sean let out a pig-like scream, "Help! Don''t eat me! I just stole some bread!"


    He was entangled by the translucent tentacles, wrapped around his neck, turning his face purple.


    Martin and Simon fired without hesitation as they caught up, the monster''s translucent tentacles were hit and then severed, the severed tentacles still twitching on the ground.


    Jonathan came back to his senses from the shock. He aimed at the human body upied by the parasitic hydra and pulled the trigger.


    "Bang!"


    The bullet spun out but went wide, hitting the concrete ground beneath the hydra''s feet, creating a pit in the concrete.


    The K80 was the currently best-performing long-range sniper rifle, capable of prating solid concrete walls.


    "Damn it," Jonathan cursed.


    "You forgot to ount for the effect of wind," Moss said. "Light rain currently, wind force 21, slightly diminished. Target distance 7223 meters."


    Robert opened his mouth to say, "Jonathan, you..."


    "Shut up, don''t distract me," Jonathan said irritably.


    Robert immediately shut up.


    Jonathan exhaled slowly, wiped his scope, and tried again.


    A tongue of fire spat out of the K80''s barrel, a bullet speared through the rain.


    With a squelching sound, the bullet hit! The rotating bullet hit the parasitic hydra''s chest. Its body was instantly pierced by the bullet, exploding a bowl-sized hole. There was no blood in the hole, just dry, scattered flesh.


    Before Jonathan could even savor the joy of hitting his target, he repeatedly pulled the trigger. One after another, bullets left the gun barrel, hitting the parasitic hydra''s head, abdomen, shoulders, waist, and leg bones! Its parasitic body looked like a broken puppet, barely humanoid.


    Only after emptying the magazine did he stop, immediately reloading to standby for more.


    Without the support of the human body, the parasitic hydra suddenly fell to the ground, releasing Sean. Gasping raggedly, nearly suffocating to death, he crawled away with hands and feet on pure survival instinct, extremely embarrassed.


    The parasitic hydra didn''t want to let go of its prey. It reached for Sean but grabbed at nothing. Sean disappeared in ce, and shed under a streetmp three meters away, avoiding the attack.


    Staggering, he stood up and cursed, "Damn it! This time the superpower worked sessfully, thank god it didn''t fail."


    Jonathan started the next round of shooting, breaking several of the creature''s thick tentacles. The parasitic hydra, unable to pursue Sean, attached its tentacles to the ground, using its strength to move back and forth, dodging Jonathan''s bullets.


    Martin and Simon were also shooting from a few dozen meters away. The two had a tacit understanding when one ran out of bullets, the other immediately took over, giving the other time to rece the magazine.


    Before the bullets werepletely depleted, Luke timely drove the police car flying in.


    The police car lowered its altitude, and a ck methrower extended from one side, spewing out hot mes. The fire scorched the parasitic hydra crawling on the ground, visibly shriveling its tentacles, no longer vigorous.


    "It''s afraid of fire..." Jonathan muttered under his breath, a tension in his heart released.


    Before Jonathan couldpletely rx, the parasitic hydra suddenly began to struggle violently. Its iling tentacles whipped the air, actually making the sound of a whip cracking.


    It stretched its tentacles to their limit, entangling the me-throwing police car in the sky, and with a mighty pull, it skewed the police car while jamming the methrower with its own tentacle!


    With a loud bang, the fuel tank connected to the methrower exploded, and the police car, billowing with smoke, fell from the sky.


    The parasitic hydra severed its own tentacle, abandoned the broken human husk, and scurried toward Sean who had just run ten meters away like a mad.


    A terrifying scene unfolded. Its soft translucent body wrapped around Sean, and the tentacles forcefully poured into his mouth.


    Sean was terrified, his mouth opened wide, unable to resist the parasitic hydra. His eyes rolled back, his neck swelled, his chest and abdomen unnaturally bulging, and his body slowly deformed.


    Martin raised his gun and aimed at Sean, but his shot was empty. He had no bullets left! Simon shook his head at Martin with a grim face. He was out of bullets too.


    "The parasitic hydra is in a vulnerable state and cannot be allowed toplete the host transition," Robert spoke rapidly, "Jonathan, kill Sean! Quick! The parasitic hydra can''t inhabit a corpse!"


    In just a few seconds, Sean''s body was unrecognizable, the parasitic hydra squeezing itself into his body.


    Jonathan pursed his lips, looked through his scope, and aimed at Sean.


    "Bang--"


    This gunshot sounded more distant to him than the previous ones.


    The bullet spun and pierced through the man''s head. The body fell heavily to the ground, blood sttering out, stainingrge patches of ground.


    "You''ve killed Walker Sean."


    "You''ve deprived Walker Sean of his super abilities."


    "You''ve obtained the super ability Shadow Travel��E grade."


    "Shadow Travel��E grade allows you to use shadows for short-range spatial travel."


    At this moment, there was nothing in Jonathan''s eyes, and it seemed as if the sound of gunfire was still echoing in his ears, and his trigger-pulling hand was twitching slightly.


    He suddenly understood why this game was called "Red Soil."


    ��Why is the soil deep red?


    ��It''s dyed red by blood.


    The world finally revealed its brutal and cruel side to Jonathan thoroughly.

 Chapter 14: A completely unfamiliar codename

    <h4>Chapter 14: Apletely unfamiliar codename</h4>


    Jonathan spent two hours in the therapy room, had three cups oftte, and even joined James for lunch in the staff cafeteria at his invitation.


    When he left, James thoughtfully handed him a whole can of coffee beans, saying, "I really like these beans, I hope you will too."


    Jonathan epted James''s kindness reluctantly and returned to the rest area with a can of coffee beans.


    It was the afternoon now, and lunch break had passed.


    Setting the tin aside, Jonathan headed to Team 7''s training area to check-in. Whether they were regr members or interns like him, they spent most of their time in training when not on missions. Combat training, such as shooting and hand-to-handbat, was of paramount importance.


    The elevator took him down a floor to the trainingplex. He scanned his iris at the entrance.


    "Intern security officer Jonathan, you can use the training equipment in areas A and B for basic training. The use of other areas is temporarily not open to you."


    There was a difference in treatment between interns and regr employees, but Jonathan didn''t care much. After all, he didn''t know how to use more advanced equipment. His purpose ining to the training room this time was to confirm his control over firearms.


    Area A included a shooting training room. Jonathan entered the room, nced around, saw that it was fairly empty, and took an open spot.


    "Please select your training weapon," Moss said.


    "Standard handgun," Jonathan replied.


    The metal table in front of him silently flipped open on both sides, and a ck guny quietly on the table.


    Jonathan picked up the gun, disassembled it after a few seconds of thought, memorized itsponents, and then put them back together one by one.


    He held the gun level and said in the mostfortable posture, "Three-meter target."


    "Yes, a three-meter target is set," Moss responded.


    Jonathan didn''t aim much, he fired by feel. With the continuous gunshots, all the bullets he fired hit the target, none missed, and each bullet was within the eight-ring.


    The recoil of this gun was slightlyrger than he expected, and his palm was a bit numb.


    Jonathan had no idea of his performance. He changed the magazine, intending to try the "ten-meter target."


    "Ten-meter target is set," Moss said.


    The target was farther this time, and people with average vision could hardly see the circles on the target.


    Jonathan steadied himself, held up the gun, and this time he aimed consciously, pulled the trigger, and fired only one bullet.


    "Bang!"


    The bullet hit the center of the target, the very center of the ten-ring!


    Jonathan''s eyebrows rxed, "Moss, fifteen-meter target."


    He made several attempts, gradually increasing the target distance from fifteen to twenty-five meters. Every time he fired, his lowest score never fell out of the seven-ring.


    Jonathan''s fingertips were numb, but his body and mind feltfortable as if all the troubles and pressures were fired out with his gunshots.


    Such results were not without the blessing of his bat instinct", but he also had great shooting talent. He improved his understanding and knowledge of guns through repeated shootings, and training was his way of familiarizing himself with these metal weapons.


    Being proficient in using guns and having strong physical abilities andbat skills, Jonathan was no longer the weakling he once was. even Among the security officers, he also was one of the more outstanding ones.


    Moreover, he has already a super ability.


    In this morning''s mission, he killed Sean, stripping him of his superpower, "Shadow Travel".


    His current status panel had significantly changed.


    Basic Attributes


    Name: Jonathan


    upation: Dispossessor


    Super ability: Shadow Travel��E-Level - You can use shadows for short-range spatial travel.


    Inherent Talents:


    Performance Persona: You are an excellent actor, able to deceive most people.


    Life Resilience: Your vitality is tenacious like wild grass.


    Danger Avoidance: You can keenly perceive and avoid dangers around you.


    Quick Learning: Your learning of any skill is twice the result with half the effort.


    Combat Instinct: Yourbat skills and tactics are engraved in your body.


    Sean escaped from the mental hospital using Shadow Travel. His superpower level was rtively low, and it seemed that it wasn''t always sessful, which is why he couldn''t escape from the parasitic hydra.


    What Jonathan was concerned about was, what was the awakening method for superpowers. Was it luck or some other factor?


    His teammates were very surprised that Sean had be an awakener, indicating that awakeners were notmonce but rather quite rare.


    When he first crossed over, Dr. Neil, who was also undercover for the Mechanical Dawn Organization, had mentioned that there were awakeners in the investigative department, and he specifically named the leader of the criminal investigation team, asking Jonathan to be extra careful.


    Because the leader of the criminal investigation team''s superability could very well be "Lie Detection".


    This suggests that the internal members of the investigative department''s awakener identities were likely kept secret. Colleagues didn''t even know each other''s abilities or identities, so Dr. Neil, who had worked in the investigative department''s medical center for a long time, only provided vague spection rather than definite answers.


    What Jonathan regretted was that he could not find a safe and hidden location in the investigative department to experiment with his newly acquired ability of Shadow Travel. At home, he had Fox, so there was even less opportunity to try out his new power.


    Shadow Travel was a great ability. If he was caught and put in jail in the future, he could use it to escape. Sean had used it to escape from the heavily guarded mental hospital.


    Being in jail would be a rather good oue. The Federation had no death penalty, so optimistically thinking, maybe he could find an opportunity to leave the prison after a while. The worst-case scenario would be having his identity exposed and being "cleaned" by his former teammates.


    Jonathan put down the gun and went to Area B.


    Area B was thebat training area, where several security officers were training in their training suits and boxing gloves. He wasn''t here to spar but to test his strength.


    In the corner of the training area, there was a boxing force tester.


    Jonathan had read in a magazine from the first world that boxing champion Tyson''s right fist power was 800 pounds, and martial arts superstar Bruce Lee''s fist power was around 350 pounds. This data was closely rted to weight; Tyson''s weight was almost double that of Bruce Lee.


    A simple fist power test could not reflect a person''sbat data, because the factors affectingbat power were never one-sided. However, a first power test could reflect a person''s level of strength.


    "What was my test datast time?" Jonathan asked.


    "Yourst punch strength test result was 215 pounds," Moss answered.


    This was the data for "Security Officer Jonathan", not the original body''s data. Jonathan thought he should be conservative with the first punch to avoid exceeding the original results too much.


    He adjusted his breathing, clenched his fist, and punched the testing post.


    With a bang, the data on the tester''s disy rapidly climbed, instantly jumping over 200 and settling at 233 pounds.


    "Your score has improvedpared tost time, specifically by 18 pounds," Moss reported.


    Sigh, he was still not conservative enough. The original body must have been a super warriorparable to Bruce Lee, right? He not only had strength but also skill, had undergone rigorous training, and was a genuine humanoid weapon.


    "Jonathan!" Robert walked into Area B and waved to Jonathan, "Are you training here?"


    "Yeah, I felt a bit rusty, so I came to touch the gun and throw a few punches," Jonathan moved his shoulder.


    "I feel off if I don''t hold a gun for a day. This thing needs regr practice. Do you want to spar? Don''t underestimate me because I''m a technician. I''m ranked in the top ten in the field team," Robert invited.


    "No, I just finished a field mission today and I''m a bit tired. My condition is not great," Jonathan smiled and declined. "How is Luke doing?"


    "He has finished his surgery, Simon is with him," Robert said, "Have you been to the psychological therapy room?"


    Jonathan answered, "I have, James is a good guy, he gave me a can of coffee beans..."


    "When I went there, he also gave me a can of coffee beans, saying that technicians need to use their brains often, and coffee can help refresh their minds and so on..." Robert shrugged.


    "Are there many people with psychological problems in the investigative department?" Jonathan asked.


    "Well, with high work pressure, you will always encounter various problems. We are constantly in danger. I had a colleague who had nightmares for a week after his first mission to exterminate the Xenobiotics creature. It was James who helped him with psychological counseling. It''s necessary to have a psychological therapy room in the investigative department," Robert said, "If psychological problems are not resolved in time, they can lead to serious consequences. I have seen such examples around me. An old colleague from the next team developed serious psychological problems because of identally killing a civilian, but others didn''t notice... In the end, hemitted suicide."


    Robert sighed, "Sometimes, people can show amazing resilience in the face of stress, but at times, the mind can be so fragile that it can''t take a hit."


    Jonathan thought for a moment, "I''ll try to avoid making such mistakes... Actually, I wanted to ask you about the formal employment procedure. Is it convenient for you to talk about?"


    "There''s nothing inconvenient about it. This is an open secret. The interviewers for each formal employment interview are always the same," Robert said, "The interviewers are usually the team leaders of various groups. Just answer the interviewers'' questions honestly. You have to be honest."


    Be honest? Jonathan immediately remembered Dr. Neil''s warning and the rumored superpower of the leader of the criminal investigation team.


    "I understand, thank you for your reminder." His mood sank slightly.


    "Trainee Security Officer Jonathan, please report to the Seventh Team office," Moss suddenly conveyed to him.


    Jonathan was slightly surprised, but Robertughed and said, "Is the captain going to discuss the formal employment process with you?"


    "Then I''ll go first," Jonathan said goodbye to him and left the training room.


    Riding the elevator, Jonathan''s thoughts were very calm. He had only been in the second world for a few days, and his mentality had undergone a radical transformation.


    He had gone from a newly graduated high school student busy looking for part-time work to a qualified undercover agent. Even his thinking had been assimted by his undercover identity. He was always worried about this or that, considering every aspect and leaving no loopholes. Dealing with people required a lot of caution, and every word needed to be carefully considered. It was mentally exhausting.


    Jonathan arrived at Martin''s office and the metal door opened.


    "You''re here, Jonathan. Fill this out." Martin said


    He handed over a paper form, and the title of the form was "Regr Employment Application".


    "Can I be promoted?" Jonathan asked.


    "If you pass the final interview, yes, it''s not difficult. You can do it," Martin said, "The interview is scheduled for nine o''clock tomorrow morning, is that okay?"


    Jonathan could only respond, "I have no problem, Captain."


    "Good, once you''re officially employed, you can move into the employee dormitory. It''s safer than Baker Street near your home," Martin said.


    After filling out the form, it was almost time to off.


    Jonathan said goodbye to Martin, went back to the rest area to pick up the coffee beans James had given him, took the elevator downstairs, and prepared to go home.


    As soon as he got on the hover rail car, Jonathan opened his bracelet. Fox had sent him several messages.


    "I went to the port again."


    "I didn''t find anything else. I encountered a few hostile gang members. They are too troublesome. Can I kill them?"


    "If you don''t reply to me, I will act freely. You said I can make my own decisions, right?"


    "I''ve already killed them."


    "I encountered the port smugglers..."


    "I didn''t kill them this time. They were smuggling liquor, not worth paying attention to."


    "Why aren''t you replying to me? Are you that busy?"


    "When do you get off work?"


    Jonathan was speechless as he read the messages and decided to switch to another page.


    The next message was from someone else, and Jonathan perked up as he read the content.


    "Midnight, at the Ruby Bar in the Harbor District, the mission execution team has a collective meeting to discuss the specific task allocation for the port bombing. All members must be present."


    The sender ���� red.


    Apletely unfamiliar codename.

 Chapter 14: A completely unfamiliar codename

    <h4>Chapter 14: Apletely unfamiliar codename</h4>


    Jonathan spent two hours in the therapy room, had three cups oftte, and even joined James for lunch in the staff cafeteria at his invitation.


    When he left, James thoughtfully handed him a whole can of coffee beans, saying, "I really like these beans, I hope you will too."


    Jonathan epted James''s kindness reluctantly and returned to the rest area with a can of coffee beans.


    It was the afternoon now, and lunch break had passed.


    Setting the tin aside, Jonathan headed to Team 7''s training area to check-in. Whether they were regr members or interns like him, they spent most of their time in training when not on missions. Combat training, such as shooting and hand-to-handbat, was of paramount importance.


    The elevator took him down a floor to the trainingplex. He scanned his iris at the entrance.


    "Intern security officer Jonathan, you can use the training equipment in areas A and B for basic training. The use of other areas is temporarily not open to you."


    There was a difference in treatment between interns and regr employees, but Jonathan didn''t care much. After all, he didn''t know how to use more advanced equipment. His purpose ining to the training room this time was to confirm his control over firearms.


    Area A included a shooting training room. Jonathan entered the room, nced around, saw that it was fairly empty, and took an open spot.


    "Please select your training weapon," Moss said.


    "Standard handgun," Jonathan replied.


    The metal table in front of him silently flipped open on both sides, and a ck guny quietly on the table.


    Jonathan picked up the gun, disassembled it after a few seconds of thought, memorized itsponents, and then put them back together one by one.


    He held the gun level and said in the mostfortable posture, "Three-meter target."


    "Yes, a three-meter target is set," Moss responded.


    Jonathan didn''t aim much, he fired by feel. With the continuous gunshots, all the bullets he fired hit the target, none missed, and each bullet was within the eight-ring.


    The recoil of this gun was slightlyrger than he expected, and his palm was a bit numb.


    Jonathan had no idea of his performance. He changed the magazine, intending to try the "ten-meter target."


    "Ten-meter target is set," Moss said.


    The target was farther this time, and people with average vision could hardly see the circles on the target.


    Jonathan steadied himself, held up the gun, and this time he aimed consciously, pulled the trigger, and fired only one bullet.


    "Bang!"


    The bullet hit the center of the target, the very center of the ten-ring!


    Jonathan''s eyebrows rxed, "Moss, fifteen-meter target."


    He made several attempts, gradually increasing the target distance from fifteen to twenty-five meters. Every time he fired, his lowest score never fell out of the seven-ring.


    Jonathan''s fingertips were numb, but his body and mind feltfortable as if all the troubles and pressures were fired out with his gunshots.


    Such results were not without the blessing of his bat instinct", but he also had great shooting talent. He improved his understanding and knowledge of guns through repeated shootings, and training was his way of familiarizing himself with these metal weapons.


    Being proficient in using guns and having strong physical abilities andbat skills, Jonathan was no longer the weakling he once was. even Among the security officers, he also was one of the more outstanding ones.


    Moreover, he has already a super ability.


    In this morning''s mission, he killed Sean, stripping him of his superpower, "Shadow Travel".


    His current status panel had significantly changed.


    Basic Attributes


    Name: Jonathan


    upation: Dispossessor


    Super ability: Shadow Travel��E-Level - You can use shadows for short-range spatial travel.


    Inherent Talents:


    Performance Persona: You are an excellent actor, able to deceive most people.


    Life Resilience: Your vitality is tenacious like wild grass.


    Danger Avoidance: You can keenly perceive and avoid dangers around you.


    Quick Learning: Your learning of any skill is twice the result with half the effort.


    Combat Instinct: Yourbat skills and tactics are engraved in your body.


    Sean escaped from the mental hospital using Shadow Travel. His superpower level was rtively low, and it seemed that it wasn''t always sessful, which is why he couldn''t escape from the parasitic hydra.


    What Jonathan was concerned about was, what was the awakening method for superpowers. Was it luck or some other factor?


    His teammates were very surprised that Sean had be an awakener, indicating that awakeners were notmonce but rather quite rare.


    When he first crossed over, Dr. Neil, who was also undercover for the Mechanical Dawn Organization, had mentioned that there were awakeners in the investigative department, and he specifically named the leader of the criminal investigation team, asking Jonathan to be extra careful.


    Because the leader of the criminal investigation team''s superability could very well be "Lie Detection".


    This suggests that the internal members of the investigative department''s awakener identities were likely kept secret. Colleagues didn''t even know each other''s abilities or identities, so Dr. Neil, who had worked in the investigative department''s medical center for a long time, only provided vague spection rather than definite answers.


    What Jonathan regretted was that he could not find a safe and hidden location in the investigative department to experiment with his newly acquired ability of Shadow Travel. At home, he had Fox, so there was even less opportunity to try out his new power.


    Shadow Travel was a great ability. If he was caught and put in jail in the future, he could use it to escape. Sean had used it to escape from the heavily guarded mental hospital.


    Being in jail would be a rather good oue. The Federation had no death penalty, so optimistically thinking, maybe he could find an opportunity to leave the prison after a while. The worst-case scenario would be having his identity exposed and being "cleaned" by his former teammates.


    Jonathan put down the gun and went to Area B.


    Area B was thebat training area, where several security officers were training in their training suits and boxing gloves. He wasn''t here to spar but to test his strength.


    In the corner of the training area, there was a boxing force tester.


    Jonathan had read in a magazine from the first world that boxing champion Tyson''s right fist power was 800 pounds, and martial arts superstar Bruce Lee''s fist power was around 350 pounds. This data was closely rted to weight; Tyson''s weight was almost double that of Bruce Lee.


    A simple fist power test could not reflect a person''sbat data, because the factors affectingbat power were never one-sided. However, a first power test could reflect a person''s level of strength.


    "What was my test datast time?" Jonathan asked.


    "Yourst punch strength test result was 215 pounds," Moss answered.


    This was the data for "Security Officer Jonathan", not the original body''s data. Jonathan thought he should be conservative with the first punch to avoid exceeding the original results too much.


    He adjusted his breathing, clenched his fist, and punched the testing post.


    With a bang, the data on the tester''s disy rapidly climbed, instantly jumping over 200 and settling at 233 pounds.


    "Your score has improvedpared tost time, specifically by 18 pounds," Moss reported.


    Sigh, he was still not conservative enough. The original body must have been a super warriorparable to Bruce Lee, right? He not only had strength but also skill, had undergone rigorous training, and was a genuine humanoid weapon.


    "Jonathan!" Robert walked into Area B and waved to Jonathan, "Are you training here?"


    "Yeah, I felt a bit rusty, so I came to touch the gun and throw a few punches," Jonathan moved his shoulder.


    "I feel off if I don''t hold a gun for a day. This thing needs regr practice. Do you want to spar? Don''t underestimate me because I''m a technician. I''m ranked in the top ten in the field team," Robert invited.


    "No, I just finished a field mission today and I''m a bit tired. My condition is not great," Jonathan smiled and declined. "How is Luke doing?"


    "He has finished his surgery, Simon is with him," Robert said, "Have you been to the psychological therapy room?"


    Jonathan answered, "I have, James is a good guy, he gave me a can of coffee beans..."


    "When I went there, he also gave me a can of coffee beans, saying that technicians need to use their brains often, and coffee can help refresh their minds and so on..." Robert shrugged.


    "Are there many people with psychological problems in the investigative department?" Jonathan asked.


    "Well, with high work pressure, you will always encounter various problems. We are constantly in danger. I had a colleague who had nightmares for a week after his first mission to exterminate the Xenobiotics creature. It was James who helped him with psychological counseling. It''s necessary to have a psychological therapy room in the investigative department," Robert said, "If psychological problems are not resolved in time, they can lead to serious consequences. I have seen such examples around me. An old colleague from the next team developed serious psychological problems because of identally killing a civilian, but others didn''t notice... In the end, hemitted suicide."


    Robert sighed, "Sometimes, people can show amazing resilience in the face of stress, but at times, the mind can be so fragile that it can''t take a hit."


    Jonathan thought for a moment, "I''ll try to avoid making such mistakes... Actually, I wanted to ask you about the formal employment procedure. Is it convenient for you to talk about?"


    "There''s nothing inconvenient about it. This is an open secret. The interviewers for each formal employment interview are always the same," Robert said, "The interviewers are usually the team leaders of various groups. Just answer the interviewers'' questions honestly. You have to be honest."


    Be honest? Jonathan immediately remembered Dr. Neil''s warning and the rumored superpower of the leader of the criminal investigation team.


    "I understand, thank you for your reminder." His mood sank slightly.


    "Trainee Security Officer Jonathan, please report to the Seventh Team office," Moss suddenly conveyed to him.


    Jonathan was slightly surprised, but Robertughed and said, "Is the captain going to discuss the formal employment process with you?"


    "Then I''ll go first," Jonathan said goodbye to him and left the training room.


    Riding the elevator, Jonathan''s thoughts were very calm. He had only been in the second world for a few days, and his mentality had undergone a radical transformation.


    He had gone from a newly graduated high school student busy looking for part-time work to a qualified undercover agent. Even his thinking had been assimted by his undercover identity. He was always worried about this or that, considering every aspect and leaving no loopholes. Dealing with people required a lot of caution, and every word needed to be carefully considered. It was mentally exhausting.


    Jonathan arrived at Martin''s office and the metal door opened.


    "You''re here, Jonathan. Fill this out." Martin said


    He handed over a paper form, and the title of the form was "Regr Employment Application".


    "Can I be promoted?" Jonathan asked.


    "If you pass the final interview, yes, it''s not difficult. You can do it," Martin said, "The interview is scheduled for nine o''clock tomorrow morning, is that okay?"


    Jonathan could only respond, "I have no problem, Captain."


    "Good, once you''re officially employed, you can move into the employee dormitory. It''s safer than Baker Street near your home," Martin said.


    After filling out the form, it was almost time to off.


    Jonathan said goodbye to Martin, went back to the rest area to pick up the coffee beans James had given him, took the elevator downstairs, and prepared to go home.


    As soon as he got on the hover rail car, Jonathan opened his bracelet. Fox had sent him several messages.


    "I went to the port again."


    "I didn''t find anything else. I encountered a few hostile gang members. They are too troublesome. Can I kill them?"


    "If you don''t reply to me, I will act freely. You said I can make my own decisions, right?"


    "I''ve already killed them."


    "I encountered the port smugglers..."


    "I didn''t kill them this time. They were smuggling liquor, not worth paying attention to."


    "Why aren''t you replying to me? Are you that busy?"


    "When do you get off work?"


    Jonathan was speechless as he read the messages and decided to switch to another page.


    The next message was from someone else, and Jonathan perked up as he read the content.


    "Midnight, at the Ruby Bar in the Harbor District, the mission execution team has a collective meeting to discuss the specific task allocation for the port bombing. All members must be present."


    The sender ���� red.


    Apletely unfamiliar codename.

 Chapter 15: "Drunken Deep Blue"

    <h4>Chapter 15: "Drunken Deep Blue"</h4>


    "What are you holding?" Fox asked Jonathan, his face etched with confusion as he peered at the ss jar tucked under Jonathan''s arm.


    "Coffee beans. A gift from a colleague," Jonathan said, propping himself against the door frame to change his shoes.


    "So you''re gaining their trust?" Fox questioned with interest.


    With an impatience gesture, Jonathan ced the jar of coffee beans on the kitchen counter. "Don''t bother prying; I am under no obligation to report to you."


    "fine," Fox said."Why didn''t you reply to me?"


    Because you talk too much... Jonathan thought.


    "My teammates were around, no chance."


    Fox choked slightly, rummaged in his pocket, and threw him a metallic sphere. "Here''s the intel I found today... good news, I hacked the Coastal Security officework and copied their data. The bad news is, I identally damaged the data reader. Now it only has a viewing function; its showing function is out. It contains a record of port personnel movement for the past month. Take a look."


    "Not bad, quite efficient," Jonathan praised him in a lukewarm manner. "Do we have a spare data reader?"


    "No, we''ll need to resupply at the centralb, and update other gear too," Fox said dejectedly.


    The centralb? Jonathan recalled reading about it in the mission briefing - the Rick Technology Company''s third-floorb that provided technological support for operatives. Was the "centralb" that Fox referred to actually the Rick Techb?


    The usual knock-off time for the investigation department was half-past six. Jonathan had arrived home a bit early today; his bracelet disyed the time as forty minutes past seven.


    "Let''s eat," Fox suggested. "I bought some fresh meat; it''s expensive, but synthesized meat just doesn''t taste as good..."


    Jonathan gave him a sidelong nce. Since when did this man care about the taste of food? Fox was not picky, even if the food was terrible, he would still clean his te. Jonathan had always assumed hecked a discerning pte.


    Feeling hungry himself, Jonathan headed to the kitchen to cook.


    Fox settled down at the dining table, watching Jonathan fill the pot and light the stove with rapt attention. His light pink eyes, filled with urgency, reminded Jonathan of a cat waiting for its owner to open a can of meat.


    "Did you receive the message?" Jonathan asked Fox abruptly.


    Fox contemted for a moment. "Are you referring to Red?"


    "Mm-hm," Jonathan confirmed, keeping his gaze on the pot of water bubbling away, waiting for Fox to continue.


    "Yes, I received it," Fox said listlessly. "He''s always like this, waits till thest moment before notifying us about a meeting, iming he''s afraid of leaks if the notice is given too early... He''s just like you, overly cautious, constantly suspecting everyone and everything."


    Jonathan''s thoughts raced as he deliberately said "So that''s your view of Red, huh?"


    "You''re not going to badmouth me to him, are you?" Fox said, sounding wary.


    "Do I look like I have time to spare?" Jonathan asked.


    Fox studied Jonathan, confirming he wasn''t intending to tattle, then admitted, "Working under you is far better than under him. He assigns me tasks that keep me so busy, I hardly have time to eat."


    "So, by your logic, you prefer working for me because I provide meals?" Jonathan questioned.


    Fox paused, "...Can it be put that way?"


    After dinner, as usual, Fox cleaned up the kitchen.


    As Jonathan retreated to his room to review the data, he instructed, "After you''re done cleaning, water the nts. They''re almost dead. The living room floor needs mopping. It would be a shame not to use your super abilities for such a task. Keep an eye on the time; call me when it''s time to leave."


    The dishes ttered a bit louder in Fox''s hands. "no wonder, you and Red are old partners, really good at bossing people around."


    In response, Jonathan merely shut the door with a sharp click.


    Lying on his bed, staring nkly at the ceiling, Jonathan reflected. So Red was his former partner. How deep did their rtionship run? How well did Red really know him?


    By Fox''s ount, Red was extremely cautious. Would he notice anything amiss? Tonight at the Ruby Bar could prove highly dangerous.


    Half-sitting against his pillow, Jonathan checks the data reader. It contained detailed records of all personnel tied to the harbor bombings - suspects, frequent visitors, known gang members, and surveince targets.


    Suspects and surveince targets were in red font. Witnesses and suspicious individuals were marked in yellow, while those associated with the bombing but less suspicious were indicated in green.


    ck Sea City''s surveince system was like a silent eye, observing everyone and recording their activities. The data were funneled into the investigation department where the super AI Moss judges suspicion levels and necessitate tracking.


    However, ck Sea City also had surveince blind spots; the investigation department couldn''t reach every corner.


    ck Sea City was clearly divided into two halves - the glittering facade of prosperity, and the rot festering beneath it.


    These two contrasting parts somehow coexisted.


    The data was overwhelming andplex, and Jonathan can''t analyze it in a short time. so He set down the data reader and picked up a criminology textbook from the ck Sea Academy from his desk. Hoping to give his mind a change of pace, he began to read.


    As he read, he frequently paused to search the inte for various peculiar terms and high-tech equipment names. Without these searches, he wouldn''t understand the jargon or the functions of the devices mentioned.


    soon it was eleven o''clock. There was a knock on his bedroom door.


    "It''s time to leave," Fox said.


    Jonathan put down his book, found a ck hoodie from his wardrobe to put on, and donned a face mask and goggles to conceal his face before stepping out of his room.


    Fox was already wearing his mask. "I know where the cameras are, I''ll lead the way... Wait, why are you dressed as?"


    "Might run into colleagues."


    "I see, as a security guard, you can''t go without a disguise." After thinking for a moment, Fox said, "Tonight, the mask will have to do, but we''ll get theb at headquarters to custom-make a professional disguise mask for you."


    "Let''s go," Jonathan said.


    Fox walked towards the balcony. "There''s a small alley beneath the balcony. It''s not surveilled. We''ll take that route."


    No wonder Fox always through the balcony toe and go. Jonathan walked over, opened the window, and looked down. It was about ten meters from the third floor to the ground, which was extremely dangerous.


    "you can handle it?" Fox asked, crossing his arms. "Normal people who haven''t awakened their abilities might struggle."


    Jonathan nced at the wall. There was an old water pipe near the window. As a warrior with physical abilities on par with Bruce Lee, he figured he could take the risk.


    "Don''t forget to close the window after youe down," Jonathan said as he climbed onto the windowsill. Holding onto the pipe attached to the wall, he effortlessly leaped down, using the pipe to quickly descend to the first floor.


    Letting go while still two meters up, hended lightly, the rain''s patter covering the faint sound.


    Fox, on the other hand, didn''t need the help of a pipe. His body was wrapped in a stream of water as he jumped straight down from the third floor. The water cushioned hisnding.


    "I underestimated you," Fox said. "Let''s go."


    He led the way, not slowing his pace, testing if Jonathan could keep up.


    He climbed up a low building using a trash heap in the alley and turned around to look at Jonathan. He saw Jonathan effortlessly climb up the same way. Jonathan''s hand was on the edge of the roof, his strong arm muscles propelling his body upwards. His well-coordinated limbs allowed him to make the most precise movements.


    Seeing Jonathan''s agile movements, Fox couldn''t help but feelpetitive. He jumped across the not-too-distant rooftops of two buildings.


    Jonathan tailed him closely, sprinting and leaping the three-meter divide to Fox''s side.


    He raised an eyebrow, "Trying to race me in parkour?"


    "Not at all," Fox quickly denied, feeling a bit guilty. "Your physical fitness is on par with some of those who have awakened."


    After that, Fox was much more behaved. They crossed a few more buildings before walking on the ground, weaving through narrow alleys.


    Half an hourter, Fox stopped and pointed to a neon-lit alley not far away. "We''re here. The bar is there, we''ll enter through the back door."


    The Ruby Bar''s garish sign assaulted the eyes with vulgar bright colors and crude graffiti. No ss whatsoever on the exterior - gaudy to the point of distaste. Nothing like Jonathan had pictured.


    Even before they entered, they could hear the noisy sounds and loud music from inside the bar.


    The two entered through the back door of the bar, where a waiter came up to them. Holding a tray, he said, "The theme tonight is a masquerade. Would you like to choose a mask to wear?"


    Jonathan had been worried that his goggles didn''t cover his forehead. He chose a mask painted with a spider pattern from the tray, turned around, removed his goggles, and put the mask on.


    "Aren''t you going to take off the mask?" Fox muttered.


    "Double insurance," Jonathan replied.


    They made their way to the dance floor, where dancers were fervently moving in the dance pool. Some men in ck shorts and shirtless with muscr bodies were pole dancing amidst cheers from the crowd.


    The deafening music made Jonathan''s ears ring. He clucked his tongue in annoyance.


    A drunken burly man holding a ss of alcohol approached and said, "Hey...*hic*...wanna drink with me...?"


    Jonathan took less than a second to consider how to deal with the drunkard. But when the man''s hand began to reach for him, he abandoned thinking and punched the man in the nose, knocking him out on the spot.


    His nose was bleeding profusely, and he fell unconscious to the ground.


    Being strong made things easier, and Jonathan had already learned how to use violence.


    No one noticed the minor incident in the corner. Jonathan stepped over the drunk man and walked to the bar.


    A male bartender in uniform asked, "What would you like to drink, darling?"


    "Give me a Drunken Deep Blue," Jonathan said the secret code.


    "Alright." The bartender served him a drink with a grin and whispered, "Floor minus two, Room 206."


    "I''m going to go deaf," Foxined as he followed Jonathan downstairs. "Why did they have to choose this ce?"


    "You should ask Red about that," Jonathan said nonchntly, dumping his untouched drink on a random table.


    Now standing outside Room 206, it appeared that the second basement level was being used as a wine cer. There was much quieter here. There were no peopleing and going, no dazzling lights, just cases and cases of fragrant wine.


    Jonathan grabbed the doorknob.


    "Biological information confirmed."


    The door opened.


    As soon as Jonathan stepped inside, he heard a sarcastic voice from within the room. "You''re too early. The meeting doesn''t start for another half hour."


    A man, heavily made up and wearing a shy purple suit, sat at the table''s end. He was diligently applying eyeshadow to himself. Once he finished his makeup, he pursed his brightly colored lips in the mirror, apparently satisfied with his appearance.


    Fox seemed ustomed to the man''s behavior. He walked over to the conference table and casually picked a seat.


    "Red, do you have any spare data readers here?"


    Red twisted around, his eyebrow knitted in a re at Fox. "No, did you break another one? How many have you broken? I''ve told you numerous times, these things aren''t cheap."


    "Unavoidable mission wear and tear."


    Jonathan also took a seat, trying his best to look natural.


    Red, sitting in an indolent manner on his chair, turned up the corners of his lips towards Jonathan. "Well, how''s Fox working out for you?"


    " not bad, just a bit Dumb," Jonathan said, offering his honest assessment.


    Fox red at Jonathan, looking rather displeased.


    Red, speaking slowly, asked, "How''s the undercover life?" His mouth opened as if he was about to say something else, but then he stopped. "Almost forgot, you don''t use your old codename anymore... what''s your new one?"


    Jonathan paused for a moment before responding, "Richguy."


    Red: "...?"


    He candidly assessed, "Aedic codename like that certainly makes it difficult for people to associate it with you."


    Members of other mission squads hadn''t arrived yet, so Red, in a contrived fashion, took out a bottle of perfume and sprayed it all over himself. Honestly, the perfume didn''t smell bad, but Jonathan was in a highly tense state at the moment. Watching others being at ease was irksome to him.


    As Red sprayed the perfume, he said in surprise, "Richguy, you didn''t tell me to get lost this time. Have you changed your ways?"


    Half genuinely and half to fit his persona, Jonathan retorted, "Your makeup is so ugly, I don''t want to talk while looking at your face."


    Expecting Red to fly into a rage, he was surprised when Red turned around satisfactorily and continued to spray his perfume to say "Now that tone sounds right."


    Could it be that this Red Was Red a masochist?


    Once Red finished spraying perfume, he took out a small box and threw it to Jonathan, "Use this when speaking. Your identity needs to remain confidential when facing members of the organization. Since you already have a mask, I won''t give you another one. Just stick the voice changer to your throat."


    Jonathan opened the box and ced the thin, skin-colored voice changer on his throat. He cleared his throat and immediately, the sound he produced was different from before.


    After adjusting the voice changer, the door was pushed open again, and a man and a woman entered.

 Chapter 16: “Someone wanted to kill him!”

    <h4>Chapter 16: ��Someone wanted to kill him!��</h4>


    The woman was dressed in a revealing ck leather skirt, her wheat-colored skin almost entirely covered by tattoos. A thorny rose was inked onto her face, making her look dangerous and captivating. The man was bald, his entire scalp adorned with a ck snake tattoo. He was burly, his arms thicker than Jonathan''s thighs. The man was sorge that he took up two seats when he sat at the conference table, the chair groaning beneath him as if it could barely support his weight.


    "Damn it, how many times have I said it? Can''t we get a bigger chair? I''m about to get wedged in this one," the manined loudly.


    e on, not everyone has a butt as big as yours," Red retorted.


    "My butt is a muscle, and others are fat. Of course, I have a bigger butt with more muscles," the man protested vehemently.


    "Enough, Snake Python," the woman with the rose tattoo on her face said impatiently. "Show some refined. Enough with the constant talk about your ass."


    "All the chairs in the conference room are this size. If you don''t want to sit, squat on the floor."


    With an aggrieved expression, the man code-named ''snake Python'' slumped in his chair. "Rose, not only are you not helping, you''re telling me to shut up... . This chair is really too small, my butt..."


    Rose cut him off, "If you mention your butt again, I''ll chop it off and feed it to the sharks."


    Snake Python quickly shut up, not daring to utter another word.


    Rose looked at Fox and Jonathan before turning to Red. "Perhaps you should introduce the new faces."


    "Fox, you know," Red said, "and the other one, you also know, no need to mention his old code name. He has a new one; from now on, call him richguy."


    Rose''s eyebrows furrowed. "Richguy?" She eyed Jonathan thoughtfully, then broke into a smile. "Ah, it''s you. With you always hiding your true face, it''s a bit difficult to recognize you."


    Jonathan gave Rose a cold nce without responding.


    Snake Python was getting impatient waiting for the meeting to start, pulled out a cigar, and started to puff away, blowing out a circle of smokefortably.


    With a flick, Fox lifted his right hand and tossed a ball of water that doused the cigar.


    Snake Python was about to explode in anger but seemed to remember something and nced at Rose. He decided to hold his tongue and sat quietly.


    Just then, the door to the conference room opened again, and two men walked in... no, boys.


    They were obviously quite young and looked exactly alike - twins. They moved in unison, and their strides matched; even their movement in pulling out the chairs and sitting down was synchronized.


    They were very quiet, not greeting or making eye contact with anyone after entering the room, but just sitting there with their heads down, as if immersed in their world.


    Thest one to enter was a man dressed as a waiter. He pushed the door open, elegantly adjusting his sleeve and bow tie, and sat leisurely, "The bar business is booming tonight; I''m a bit reluctant to leave the counter."


    "Stop talking about your little cocktail hobby when discussing business," Red said. "Alright, all four core teams are here; some of you are meeting for the first time. As per tradition, let''s introduce ourselves."


    The waiter-dressed man led, "My code name is ''Bartender,'' Red''s partner."


    "My code name is ''Rose,'' my teammate is that bald man."


    "I''m ''snake Python,'' not the bald one. Don''t get it wrong!"


    The identical-looking twins raised their heads.


    "I''m ''Crystal,''" said the one on the right.


    "I''m ''Meteor,''" the one on the left followed up.


    Thest to introduce themselves was Jonathan''s team.


    "My code name is ''Fox.''"


    "Richguy," Jonathan simply said.


    The Bartender looked at Fox and suggested seriously, "You could consider changing your code name to ''Pretty Boy.'' It''d pair well with your teammate, Richguy."


    Fox didn''t catch the joke immediately.


    Snake Python, however, burst into raucousughter, pping the table with abandon. Finally understanding the Bartender''s joke, Fox quickly retorted, "I refuse; I''m quite satisfied with my code name."


    Rose looked at Snake Python, who wasughing uncontrobly, turned to Red, and asked, "Is it toote to request a new partner? He''s too noisy."


    "No, that won''t do. You two have been working together for a year now; it would be a waste to switch partners," Red blew on his nails, "If there are newbies who need training, I can assign one to you."


    "Fine," Rose reluctantly agreed.


    "That''s enough pleasantries and nonsense," Red turned serious, "Let''s start the mission briefing."


    He tapped the table, and a small round hole opened in the surface, from which a holographic projection device rose.


    As the lights shifted, arge map materialized clearly before them. A blinking red dot on the blue representing the ocean caught everyone''s attention. A smallbel above it read "Kraken," and a red dashed line traced its projected course.


    "This cargo ship started from the South Pole, stopping at Whalesburg and Leighton. After a month-long voyage, it will enter the waters of ck Sea City on August 11 and unload its cargo here," Red''s coquettish face was particrly serious, "The shippingpany ims that the ship is loaded with clean energybustible ice. Still, we all know that''s just a cover."


    "We must iste the threat at all costs, preventing them from unloading their cargo in ck Sea City," Red said. "Our informant on the freighter suggests that the Coastal Security Team from the investigation department is highly likely to take over the ship''s security before it enters ck Sea City. Blowing up the freighter under their tight security would be unfeasible. Therefore, our best is to target the port. If we blew the port in ck Sea City, the ship would be forced to reroute to another city."


    "The port is toorge. We need to split up," Rose pointed out, "Only Dock 2 and Dock 5 can amodaterge cargo ships; the others are for smaller vessels. But even if we only destroy those two docks, we still need a huge amount of explosives."


    "We don''t need to worry about the weapons. The boss will take care of it," Red assured, "Today is July 30. In the next five days, your job is to gather data on the port''s infrastructure and send it back to headquarters. The HQ will calcte the positions of the load-bearing columns, and then we can install the bombs on those columns for targeted detonation."


    The Bartender mused, "Sounds simple, as if there are only two steps... but both gangs and the investigation department control the port, and they''re in a tug-of-war."


    "The mission is highly risky," Crystal suddenly spoke, "But we are all Awakened."


    "The gangs at the port are nothing; as long as the investigation department doesn''t send out any Awakened, we have a chance ofpleting the mission," Meteor added, "Unfortunately, that''s unlikely. Their Awakened aren''t for show."


    "It''s okay, we have richguy." Red smiled at Jonathan, "richguy will keep you updated on the investigation department''s movements; you just need to follow his instructions."


    "He''s a mole? Richguy is an undercover sent by the organization?" Snake Python craned his neck.


    "Mind your own business," Rose snapped, irritated. "When will you learn not to pry into matters that don''t concern you?"


    "No wonder he''s wearing a mask..." the Bartender chuckled.


    "The mask is a personal preference of richguy and Fox," red neatly deflected, "I didn''t say richguy is a mole, nor did I say what the source of our information is. Don''t guess what you shouldn''t; it might get you into trouble."


    What richguy''s identity is, whether the information is first-hand or second-hand, whether richguy is a middleman or directly obtains the information, how to track and notify movements��these are not things the organization''s members should worry about.


    Red had Jonathan wear a mask and use a voice changer, not because the people in the meeting room were untrustworthy, but because if they were captured while on a mission, there was a high probability they would involuntarily leak sensitive information. In such cases, maintaining secrecy about the identity bes necessary.


    As a mole, Jonathan had the highest level of identity secrecy. Other members didn''t need to be as cautious, as tonight''s meeting was intended to be a "meet and greet" amongst unfamiliar members.


    Everyone in the meeting room turned their gaze to Jonathan.


    "Richguy is the deputymander for this operation. If something unexpected happens to me and you can''t contact me, follow richguy''s arrangements. When ites to nning and decision-making, richguy is professional."


    Jonathan thought to himself, "You really trust me, don''t you? Piling all these tasks on me."


    He was an outsider who knew nothing about the situation, relying solely on his acting skills and ruminating over the limited intel to get this far.


    At this point, Jonathan had no choice but to pretend he had everything under control and said, "In addition to reporting to Red, you''ll report to me so I can assess the situation."


    "Understood, Deputy Commander," Rose replied with a smile, while the others echoed in agreement, indicating their willingness to follow Jonathan''s orders.


    Jonathan rxed a little. So far, his act had been wless; no one suspected he wasn''t who he imed to be.


    He had boldly issued an order for the others to report to him earlier, and Red did not object, nor did the others resist. This indicated that he could be more assertive. As a deputymander, it was perfectly normal for him to issue directives to the teams.


    Jonathan could use the reports from the various teams to supplement his intelligence, gain a deeper understanding of the Mechanical Dawn, and investigate the Kraken.


    "Next is the grouping," Red stated, "The Bartender, Crystal, and I, along with the Meteor, will be responsible for data collection and bomb instation at Dock 2. Richguy, Fox, and Rose, Snake Python, will handle dock 5."


    "If any of us run into trouble, the other team needs to provide immediate support. This might be the most dangerous mission we''ve ever undertaken, so be extra careful. Report anything unusual promptly, and share all intelligence obtained."


    Fox raised his hand. "This is n A, but there''s also n B. Of course, it would be great if we couldplete the mission using n A, but we still need to prepare a backup n."


    "Yes, if n A goes smoothly, we can detonate the port by August 7, leaving us with an extra three days," Red said, "If things don''t go as nned, we use these three days to execute n B... Executing n B means we have to be prepared to make sacrifices."


    Fox replied, "I am always prepared to make sacrifices."


    "Don''t speak lightly of sacrifices. The organization still needs you," Red looked around the room, "Everyone here is an indispensable talent. You all have powerful super abilities and brilliant minds. You are the core of the organization. Surviving to create more value for the organization and aplish our great mission �� these principles should be engraved in your hearts."


    Red ced a hand over his heart, his borately made-up face surprisingly solemn. "All for the Dawn."


    Everyone echoed in a low voice, "All for the Dawn."


    Jonathan, trying to blend in, also repeated the phrase, "All for the Dawn."


    But it gave him the creeps.


    What kind of cult was this? The brainwashing abilities of the Mechanical Dawn were too strong. Everyone was fiercely loyal eager to devote their lives to the organization. It was unnerving.


    If he had the chance, he would leave the Mechanical Dawn. Let whoever wants to stay; he wouldn''t.


    ...


    The meeting stretched for over an hour, during which Red disyed current intelligence and dissected every detail of the mission. Jonathan listened with utmost concentration, offering some short, sensible, yet nonmittal opinions to maintain his facade of aloof intelligence.


    By the time the meeting concluded, Jonathan was covered in a nervous sweat.


    The other teams gradually left the conference room. Fox also went to wait outside at Red''s request because he had something to discuss with Jonathan separately.


    "Boss had me bring you this reader, freshly made just yesterday," Red said, sliding a sleek ck device across the table. "Find a way to ess the core database of Moss, the AI from the investigation department. Plug this reader into its system, and our organization''s virus will embed itself within Moss''s database, providing us with a backdoor for gathering intelligence."


    "Okay." Jonathan calmly put away the reader, "But it may take some time toplete this task. I don''t currently have the opportunity to ess the database."


    "Right, the Kraken is still our primary objective," Red noted. "Don''t be hasty at the investigation department; you''re on a long-term infiltration mission."


    "I don''t need you to remind me, red," Jonathan said, now well-versed in maintaining his disguise. "I know what to do."


    Red grins, "You really should change that bad temper of yours. Fine, let''s go. Seeing you is starting to annoy me."


    Jonathan pushed open the conference room door. Fox dozed against the wall, startled awake and quickly rallying, "Heading home?"


    They left the underground bar''s negative two floors, reemerging in the lively dance hall. Spotting trays of snacks and fruits, Fox swiped two, muttering, "Our turf anyway, free food."


    "Others leave already?" Jonathan scanned the bar''s dance floor.


    "Yeah, long gone. The Bartender is the person in charge here, so he''s still here bussing," Fox gestured.


    As soon as Jonathan stepped out of the bar, he couldn''t help but take a deep breath. The air inside was stifling: a mix of cigarette smoke, alcohol fumes, perfume, and sweat that made breathing hard.


    Fox also took a deep breath of relief, "Almost suffocated by the smell inside."


    "Really? I saw you happily eating with your mouth wide open."


    They embarked on the journey home.


    The rain had lessened considerably and turned into a drizzle. The tiny droplets felt soothing on the face, unlike the furious downpour that would make one want to hide.


    Fox led the way, but Jonathan called out to him, "Hold on, let''s take a different route home; it''s too easy to be tracked."


    "Sure... you''re the boss," Fox turned down a different street.


    "This route will probably take about forty-five minutes to run, the original one takes thirty minutes," Fox said.


    "Time and distance don''t matter," Jonathan said, "We can''t make a mistake."


    Fox went to the side of a small building and used his water-controlling ability to leap onto the roof. Jonathan had no footholds to climb, so Fox swung a whip of water around his waist and pulled him up.


    The soft and formless water gained a new characteristic in Fox''s hands. Like a real whip, the water whip was resilient, making it easy for him to exert force.


    Jonathan followed closely behind the fox, exploring this new route. At the same time, he was consciously scanning the surroundings, avoiding windows of buildings and areas illuminated by lights, sneaking around in the dark.


    His body was flexible and agile, able to climb using a single hand for leverage, and he could adjust his posture to soften thending when jumping down from several meters high. He was a hunter of the night, with the city being his hunting ground.


    After leaping over several buildings and avoiding surveince, Foxnded, "From now on, we can walk on the ground."


    Jonathan nodded, feeling extremely rxed with each breath he took. His heart was pounding in his chest, and sweat was pouring out of his body, a satisfying sweat after a strenuous workout.


    The meeting with the members of the Mechanical Dawn in the Ruby Bar left him on edge. Now, his mood had calmed, and his thoughts had returned to a state of cool-headedness.


    Since Red had entrusted him with the reader and assigned him the task of nting a virus in Moss'' system, it was clear that Red harbored no suspicions about him. As for the other members of the organization, aside from Rose, who seemed to recognize him faintly, the rest had a lukewarm response towards him, their interactions like strangers.


    For the next few days, the organization''s members would be busy with their tasks, and Jonathan wouldn''t see Red, significantly reducing his risk of exposure.


    Jonathan gradually felt at ease. He slowed his pace and walked along the streets and alleys.


    A night stroll was indeed rxing.


    While he was walking, his heart suddenly skipped a beat. An ominous premonition unceremoniously dominated his mind.


    Jonathan''s heartbeat skyrocketed; his heart rate was even higher than when he was exercising. His inherent talent for danger avoidance was suddenly triggered; his intuition sent him frantic warning signals - the danger was approaching!


    In the blink of an eye, Jonathan''s body followed his intuitive warning and made a ducking maneuver.


    But at the same time, in a blind spot of his vision, a bullet spun out of the barrel of a gun with a silencer installed!


    How could a human''s speed possiblypare to the speed of a bullet? Before Jonathanpleted his evasive move, the bullet hit his forehead!


    "ng!"


    When the bullet hit Jonathan, the spider mask on his face shattered, and a clear sound of metal resonated from his head. His enhanced alloy skull had blocked the bullet.


    Jonathan was knocked backward by the bullet''s momentum, his head buzzing and blood trickling down his forehead. The deformed bullet was lodged in his alloy skull.


    Fox reacted instantly, arge water screen erected just in time to intercept a few more bullets shooting toward them. The soft and stic water screen blocked the bullets and rattled onto the ground.


    Jonathan picked up the deformed bullet lodged in the middle of his forehead. Beneath the bullet hole, his silver skull was exposed, gleaming with a metallic sheen.


    "Who the hell..." Jonathan seethed with anger.


    So close, so very close! If the bullet hadn''t hit his head and instead hit his heart, he would have been a fresh corpse by now.


    "Someone''s trying to kill you!" Fox warned.


    "I know." Jonathan wiped the blood from his face, ring toward where the bullet hade, his teeth grinding in anger. The slight concussion made his vision slightly blurry.


    Someone wanted to kill him!


    Who wanted him dead?

 Chapter 17: "You think there’s a mole in our team?"

    <h4>Chapter 17: "You think there''s a mole in our team?"</h4>


    Fox shifted intobat mode, his demeanor turning icy, like a de unsheathed. Under his mask, his pale pink eyes cautiously scanned the darkness. The mask itself was also a piece of equipment equipped with night vision capabilities. Activating the night vision mode, he continuously searched for any suspicious figures.


    "At three o''clock, in the abandoned residential building, sixty meters away." Fox located the sniper''s position based on the bullet''s trajectory.


    He refrained from pursuing, knowing that Jonathan was not Awakened�� a single bullet could end his life. There was no telling if any other assassins were nearby, so he had to protect him.


    Though Jonathan had a skull made of alloy, the rest of him was still flesh and blood, susceptible to injury and bleeding.


    "Use your super ability; don''t let my blood touch the ground."


    Jonathan''s biological information matched the information in the Investigation Department''s records. They could verify his identity if they obtained anything containing his biological information.


    Fox spread his fingers wide. The shards of the broken mask and the blood-stained on it disintegrated under his control, merging into the water. The blood seeping between Jonathan''s fingers and trickling down his chin was also suspended in mid-air under his control, not a single drop reaching the ground.


    "As long as I''m here, they won''t get your blood."


    "Go after them." Jonathan regained his strength, and his vision no longer blurred. "We''ll go together. Be careful."


    The abandoned residential building didn''t even have ss in the windows. The bullet hade from that building. Many streetmps were broken in the poverty-stricken and chaotic Harbor District, and without illumination, no one could see clearly in the dark without technology.


    Fox''s body transformed into a transparent liquid while Jonathan started running.


    The 100-meter sprint champion in the First World could finish the race in less than ten seconds, with an average speed of ten meters per second. Jonathan''s speed wasn''t far behind that of a sprint champion.


    He had never run so fast before!


    The wind was left behind him.


    With a swift step, Jonathan propelled himself off the ground,nding on the windowsill of the first floor of an abandoned residential building. Using it for leverage, he swung his arm up to grab hold of the second-floor ledge, just like a gymnast performing on the high bar.


    Jonathan heard footsteps. Someone was running down the stairs in a panic, their footfalls echoing repeatedly in the empty building.


    The person was close to Jonathan, and he saw a figure sh past the corner of the staircase.


    Jonathan swiftly jumped down from the window sill, snapped off a rusty pipe from the decayed security window, took a couple of strides, and hurled it like a javelin thrower.


    "ng "�� the steel pipe found its Target!


    "Ahhh..." The shadowy figure fell to the ground with a scream, his shoulder pierced through, and a rifle dropped from his embrace.


    A whirlpool of water appeared out of nowhere, enveloping the enemy whose shoulder had been pierced by the steel pipe.


    Foxnded next to Jonathan, a rope of water pulling at the enemy''s body, dragging him to Jonathan''s feet.


    The man, bearded and unkempt, fell awkwardly to the ground. Blood flowed from the prating wound in his shoulder, mixing with the water of Fox''s whirlpool. The man was curled up in pain, his semi-long hair covering his face.


    Jonathan confirmed that it was someone he didn''t recognize. Activating the photo function on his bracelet, Fox deftly parted the man''s hair with a stream of water, clearing the way for Jonathan to snap a picture.


    The man used a limited-range rifle, so he didn''t snipe from hundreds of meters away but from a closer range. The Harbor District was poor, and most buildings were low and riddled with obstacles, making it hard to find a suitable sniping spot. His sniper spot wasn''t on the second floor; it should be on the fourth or higher floors. After firing and realizing he didn''t kill the target, he fled down the stairs. However, he wasn''t as fast as Jonathan and was caught red-handed.


    "Have you ever done an interrogation?" Jonathan asked Fox.


    "Leave it to me."Fox pulled out the steel pipe from the man''s shoulder, and blood didn''t spurt under his control, preventing the man from bleeding to death.


    "Who are you? Who sent you?" Fox asked.


    The man was panting with a contorted expression, but he didn''t answer. Fox spread his fingers, and a blob of water enveloped the man''s head, bubbles escaping from his mouth. His lungs contracted violently from the water, his limbs iling in the struggle.


    A minuteter, the man''s struggle weakened. Fox dispersed the water ball and asked again, "Who sent you?"


    The man coughed up the water in his lungs, pleading in terror, "I don''t know, please, I don''t know!"


    Fox ruthlessly kicked the man''s jaw, two teeth flying out of his mouth.


    "Who sent you?"


    "I truly don''t know!" the man said in utter panic.


    No sooner had he said than his head was again wrapped in a ball of water. This time, Fox let him struggle longer before dispelling the water ball to allow him to breathe.


    "Still iming you don''t know?" Fox ground his heel into the man''s shoulder wound, ensuring he remained lucid through the pain.


    "I''m a second-rate assassin, and I was just drinking at a bar; I wanted to buy some drugs and followed a dealer into the bathroom. I don''t remember what happened after that, please! I''m not lying!" The man''s face was ashen, "I..."


    Suddenly, the man fell dumb. His eyeballs bulged, then popped with a snap; two thin, dark red tentacles emerged from his eye sockets. A creature resembling a spider but with long, slender mouthparts and a pair of pedipalps burrowed out from his skull, and its tentacles stretched out with satisfaction.


    This unknown creature had eaten half the brain protected by his skull! Yet he was still alive, his limbs spasmodically twitching, ckened blood slowly seeping from his nose, mouth, and ears.


    Even Fox took a step back, shocked by this grotesque sight.


    Jonathan swiftly raised his bracelets and captured a photograph of the unidentified creature. His quick response proved timely, for the convulsing man and the grotesque creature melted into a puddle of bloody liquid in the next second.


    The man''s skin began to bead with blood, then withered. Skin clung tightly to the bone like a mummy until the bones and skin finally melted away, leaving only his clothing soaked in blood.


    The process was rapid and silent.


    "I''ve never seen it before," Fox stated gravely.


    There are many types of Xenobiotics creatures. Parasitic hydra is one type, and the blood-red spider-like monster they''d just witnessed was another.


    Fox had seen a lot, but this was his first encounter with this particr species of Xenobiotics creature.


    Jonathan smelled the nauseating stench of blood. Suppressing his difort, he used the steel pipe to poke through the blood-soaked clothing. Ultimately, he found a still onlinemunicator shining brightly in the clothes.


    He exchanged a nce with Fox, both thinking the same question �� Who was on the other end of themunicator?


    Jonathan crouched and spoke to themunicator, "Your man is dead."


    The next second, the light on themunicator went out; the person on the other end had disconnected themunication.


    From the moment Jonathan caught the assassin to Fox''s interrogation, themunicator had remained active.


    That is to say, the person on the other end of themunicator had heard Jonathan''s and Fox''s conversation and the interrogation.


    If he and Fox had rxed their guard and talked about things they shouldn''t have after capturing the assassin, revealing identity information that should not have been leaked, the other side would have known through themunicator, and his identity would have been exposed.


    For the first time, Jonathan felt like he was being set up.


    The adversary''s n was meticulous, controlling the assassin to shoot at him, never revealing themselves from beginning to end. This unexpectedmunicator made Jonathan more than a little afraid.


    Fortunately, after finding the murderer, he and Fox did not chat needlessly but were directly interrogated, not revealing any information. Furthermore, Jonathan''s voice changer was properly attached to his throat and hadn''t been removed, so the other side hadn''t heard his real voice.


    Fox raised his hand and tapped on his mask. The invisible light beam scanned the area. After reading the environmental data feedback from the mask, he said, "There are no extra listening devices."


    Jonathan said, "Fox, wash themunicator and keep it; it''s evidence. The assassin didn''t say which bar he met the dealer in, and I need to find out his detailed information and the bars he frequently visits... that dealer might be the key."


    "What''s going on, howe we were attacked?" Fox couldn''t understand, "We clearly changed our route and chose the safe one."


    "No," Jonathan bit his lip. "The attack wasn''t aimed at ''us''; it was aimed at ''me.''"


    Fox looked at him with a jolt of surprise.


    "The assassin had a clear target; he came specifically for me. The first bullet was aimed at my head, not yours," Jonathan said. "I am the prey he was hunting, not you."


    Fox said, "Maybe it''s a coincidence..."


    "In this kind of thing, there''s no coincidence; even if it''s a coincidence, we can''t treat it as one." Jonathan raised his bracelet again and took several photos of the puddle of blood on the ground. He zoomed in on the photos and adjusted the brightness and contrast, looking for details not observable in the dark.


    "Didn''t you notice? The assassin immediately fired a few more shots after the first failed to kill me, but you blocked them." His brain turned, analyzing little by little, "If I were in his shoes, if I had multiple targets to kill, I wouldn''t observe the results after the first shot; I would quickly aim at the next target. Because when I fire at the first target, the other targets would be alerted. To ensure the overall hit rate, it''s wise not to look back after the first shot, and it''s more prudent to hurry up and shoot the other targets. If the first escapes, hitting the second one is still a gain."


    "But his second shot wasn''t aimed at me; every shot he fired was aimed at you, only you." Fox realized something was wrong, "You were the main target!"


    Jonathan quickly wrote a brief report of a few dozen words, attached the photos, and sent it to the headquarters of Mechanical Dawn.


    Jonathan hesitated for a moment before contacting Red.


    "Hello?" The background noise was loud music.


    "I''ve been attacked; there''s a new form of Xenobiotics creature. I''ve sent the news back to the headquarters," Jonathan said, "Could youe over and bring a healing potion for me? I''ve been a bit injured."


    "Damn!" Red said, "Wait for me; I''ming over now; send me your location."


    Jonathan sent his location, then dialed Rose''smunicator.


    "Anything wrong, deputymander?" It was very quiet on Rose''s side.


    "Where are you?" Jonathan asked.


    "At the beauty salon at 56 Forest Road." Rose said, "What happened?"


    Jonathan: "And where''s snake Python?"


    Compliantly, Rose replied, "He''s eating ate-night snack next to the Ruby Bar. I don''t know if he''s finished yet."


    Jonathan said, "Send me your current location without wasting a word."


    Rose hung up the call, and the next second, she sent her location over, which confirmed she was indeed at 56 Forest Road.


    Jonathan immediately dialed Snake Python''smunicator, "Send me your location."


    "Oh, okay, deputymander." The sound of snake Python slurping noodles on the other end stopped, and after a little while, he also sent his location.


    The location showed he was near the Ruby Bar, matching what Rose said.


    In the next minute, Jonathan dialed themunicators of all team members one by one, asking them to send their location information.


    He looked over all the locations and found none were close to him. He switched to the map and searched for bars; all the nearby bars were marked with red dots.


    Jonathanpared the locations sent by his team members with the locations of the bars.


    "Why did you ask everyone to send their locations?" Fox asked, puzzled.


    "Use your brain a bit, Fox," Jonathan temporarily put away his bracelet, picked up the rifle the assassin had dropped on the ground, and began to climb the staircase to the second floor.


    Fox pondered hard and suddenly realized, "You think there''s a mole in our team?"

 Chapter 18: "High-end player"

    <h4>Chapter 18: "High-end yer"</h4>


    "Yes," Jonathan touched the spider mask on his face that had been half shattered, "We just returned from a meeting, and someone tried to kill me on the way. There''s no such coincidence in this world."


    "Ourpanions can''t possibly betray us!" Fox eximed in shock.


    "Then why do you think someone wants to kill me? Just me?"


    Fox stammered, pondering for a long time, "Because you are an undercover?"


    This was his most special identity, Jonathan. He was the deputymander of the port bombing mission, but others also yed important roles in this mission. There was no reason for him to be the primary target. He was an undercover agent of the investigation department, only this identity was unusual and eye-catching.


    "I specte that there is a mole among those who attended the meeting tonight, and this mole is involved with the investigation department. The mole noticed my unusual identity from the meeting and decided to assassinate me," Jonathan said, "But there''s a contradiction."


    "What contradiction?" Fox couldn''t follow Jonathan''s train of thought.


    Jonathan said, "One of the responsibilities of the investigation department is to eliminate Xenobiotics creatures, so how can they drive Xenobiotics creatures to parasitize the killer?"


    The disgusting spider-like Xenobiotics creature parasitized the killer''s brain. When the killer failed toplete the assassination mission, the Xenobiotics creature immediately killed him and ate his brain, liquefying his body without a trace. The Xenobiotics creature also dissipated with the death of the killer.


    He had seen parasitic hydra before. The human body, parasitized by the parasitic hydra, is deformed, but tonight''s killer could still talk normally after being parasitized and only died when the Xenobiotics creature came out.


    Jonathan had reason to believe that the killer was a puppet controlled by the parasitic alien creature. Someone put the alien creature into the killer''s body, so the killer did these things involuntarily under the parasitism of the alien creature.


    Fox said he had never seen this type of spider-like Xenobiotics creature before.


    Who was controlling this Xenobiotics creature? Who put the Xenobiotics creature into the killer''s body?


    Jonathan pondered this as he ascended to the third floor and checked near the window without ss. The view from the third floor was not wide, and the killer did not fire from there. He checked around the fourth floor again. When he got to the fifth floor, his instinct to avoid danger stopped him.


    Jonathan thought momentarily and said to Fox, "I''m going over there. The window on the fifth floor is too open, and there''s no cover; you shield me with a water curtain."


    "Alright," Fox said.


    He walked up the stairs to the window, bent over to search, and found a shell casing.


    The killer fired from the second window on the west side of the fifth floor. Jonathan walked closer and found more shell casings under the window.


    Fortunately, the killer was using a rifle. A single bullet could prate his alloy skull if he had used a high-performance sniper rifle like the K80.


    Jonathan stood in front of the wide-open window,pletely exposed.


    Suddenly, the "Danger Avoidance" was triggered again! The red dot of aser sight assisting a firearm appeared on Jonathan.


    Still a suppressor, the bullet silently fired. This time, Fox was prepared at Jonathan''s prompt. The water curtain extended instantly, and the bullet hit the water curtain, spinning and stopping, losing its kic energy.


    Fox''s water curtain wrapped Jonathan in a 360-degree, no-blind-spot manner, afraid he would be hit.


    "Serial ambush!" Fox was taken aback, "Someone is still ambushing you!"


    He shivered.


    Jonathan was shot on the road but survived and went to the abandoned residential building to chase the killer. The killer died, and Jonathan examined the crime scene in the abandoned residential building. At this moment, another bullet was fired diagonally.


    If Jonathan was slightly ckened by the killer''s death and thought he was out of danger, he would be a dead man now!


    "Let''s go after them!" Fox said.


    "Did you see the red dot that appeared on me? This time, it''s not a rifle; it''s a sniper rifle. It''s too far, and we can''t catch up." Jonathan calmly chose to give up, "The mastermind behind the scenes is very, very cautious."


    He and Fox left the window and withdrew from the abandoned residential building, finding a rtively safe corner to wait for Red''s arrival.


    "Among all the people who attended the meeting tonight, who would it be if I asked you to choose the person you trust the most?" Jonathan looked at Fox.


    "Red." Fox said, "He''s one of the oldest members."


    "What if I asked you to choose the person you trust most?"


    Fox said, "I''m unfamiliar with some people, so I can''t judge."


    Jonathan said, "They might not have betrayed, but were parasitically controlled. If Xenobiotics creatures can parasitize awakened beings..."


    "The headquarters will figure out what that Xenobiotics creature is," Fox said, his eyes sinking.


    Jonathan tightened the hood of his sweatshirt, covering his face as thoroughly as possible. His mask was damaged, but only a small portion of his forehead was exposed.


    In the dark night, the gunman was far away. Night vision devices could see the figure but not the face. Jonathan didn''t know if his metal skull was exposed when the first shot hit. Was the mastermind observing secretly nearby or manipting from afar? Did he guess the way he blocked the bullet?


    He understood that letting all team members send real-time locations was not an absolutely rigorous practice. Locations could be manipted, and a qualified mastermind would not expose himself in minor details. He called to check everyone''s status, bluff the opponent, and he could lock the mastermind''s identity if the opponent made a mistake.


    Unfortunately, this time, the mastermind was a "high-end yer," hiding very well, even setting up a series of ambushes.


    Five minutester, Red arrived. He was racing on a motorcycle on the street with the bartender in the back seat. Both of them were wearing disguise masks.


    The bartender was the first to get out of the vehicle. The pupils of his eyes under the mask turned Red. He looked around, "No surveince devices, no suspicious people carrying weapons, safe for now."


    Red flicked his wind-blown dyed hair, looked Jonathan up and down, and threw him a potion. "Here, for external use. So the wound is on your head, indeed conspicuous. This new type of drug will heal in three hours after application, don''t worry."


    Jonathan opened the packaging of the potion, reached into the hood, and applied the medicine to his forehead. "I''ve sent the report to headquarters."


    "Did you catch the person?" Red asked.


    "He''s dead. I was investigating the scene while waiting for you and then attacked again. I didn''t chase during the second attack, and the gunman was too far away." Jonathan took out his bracelet and sent the photos he took to Red, "All the photos are here. The physical evidence consists of amunicator and a gun, which Fox holds onto."


    "Xenobiotics creature I''ve never seen before." Red disgusted, "Only you would take such disgusting pictures."


    The bartender leaned in to take a look and also frowned.


    "The killer''s body is on the second floor... Of course, it''s now only blood and water; only a sample can be taken. During the second attack, the abandoned residential building was used as an observation point; the gunman''s position should be between four o''clock and five o''clock... if you go now to investigate, you should be able to find some bullet casings or something."


    "We have a traitor among us." Red came to the same conclusion as Jonathan without needing any further details, "It''s too much of a coincidence; there can''t be such a coincidence..."


    Although Red''s outfit was weird, his mind was still sharp.


    "I deliberately changed my route home with Fox, but the enemy tracked me down," Jonathan said.


    "How did the enemy track us? Manual tracking? Micro-mechanics?" Fox said gravely, "Our situation is too dangerous."


    "I didn''t sense any tracking devices. The opponent did not track us with technological equipment. As for manual tracking, Fox and Richguy would certainly detect. It''s not ruled out that the opponent has an extraordinary ability in tracking and surveince," the bartender said.


    Jonathan nced sideways. The bartender''s super ability seemed to be rted to sensing and surveince, and could detect high-tech devices?


    "Don''t go home, it''s too dangerous. Returning before understanding the enemy''s tracking methods can expose the address easily. Richguy, you and Fox go back to the safe house to rest," Red said, "I''ll contact headquarters in a while to get a few auxiliary teams to investigate the scene."


    The members of the auxiliary teams are generally ordinary people without super abilities, often engaged in logistics such as cleaning the battlefield, assembling weapons, technical analysis, and so on. Not having super abilities doesn''t mean they are cannon fodder; each team member has received rigorous training and is proficient in their expertise.


    Ordinary people make up most of the Mechanical Dawn organizationpared to the awakened.


    "I''ll leave the rest to you. Unlike you, I have to go to work, who can arrange time flexibly," Jonathan said.


    "Okay," Red said, "You focus on dealing with the investigation department, and I''ll handle the traitor behind us."


    There was a murderous aura about him.


    "Bring him to me alive if you can," Jonathan said. "I want to know who he is."

 Chapter 19: "Heterobloods!"

    <h4>Chapter 19: "Heterobloods!"</h4>


    The hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly. He took a deep puff of the cigar and said softly into themunicator, "I''m not doing it anymore."


    "That ''Richguy'' is too sharp. The killer fired, and in half a minute... maybe even less than half a minute, Richguy caught him. ''Fox,'' who is with Richguy, is at least B-level, possibly close to A." He repeated, "I''m not doing it anymore! I don''t want to lose my life!"


    "I overestimated you. I thought you''d have more courage," came a hoarse voice from themunicator, a voice disguised by a voice changer, "I promised you, after it''s done, I will arrange a new identity for you and let you leave ck Sea City to live somewhere else."


    "I will lose my life before I embrace a new life," Snake Python said, "It''s too dangerous. Damn it, damn it! I shouldn''t have been stupid enough to agree to kill Richguy! Red''s methods are more terrifying than you imagine, and Richguy isn''t easy to mess with, either. They will suspect me... they are already suspecting me! After Richguy was shot, he called me to ask where I was, This guy is definitely testing me!"


    "The risk I''m taking is a lot bigger than you described. I can''t take the risk anymore," Snake Python said anxiously, growing more fearful as he thought about it.


    "Don''t shirk responsibility. You failed to attach sufficient scent markers on your teammates, which is the main reason for the current passive situation. If the scent markers were sessful, everyone who attended the meeting tonight would have been easily tracked, and we would have started beheading operation one by one. You wouldn''t have to be so nervous," the other person said coldly, "But you only marked a few people with your scent, and the amount was too small, it onlysted for two hours and then dispersed, making it difficult to track them."


    "If it wasn''t for the tight schedule, the opportunity too good to pass, and ''Richguy''s'' identity and the ''important'' role he yed in the meeting, I wouldn''t have asked you to make a move tonight. You know how much damage a well-trained mole can cause to an organization. Richguy must die, and if we miss the scent marker tonight, we won''t be able to track him! We don''t even know who Richguy is! You failed to kill Richguy as I instructed and didn''t even manage to get a sample of his body tissue. This is your mistake."


    "Red didn''t explicitly admit that Richguy is a mole; not admitting means there''s a suspicion and needs in-depth investigation. What use is it for you to determine that Richguy is a mole? You hastily made a wrong decision, but I have to bear the consequences," Snake Python argued, "And about that scent marker... I just took out a cigarette and puff, and Fox extinguished it. What could I do? I only had one specially made cigarette doused with water and couldn''t be lit."


    Just thinking about it made Snake Python tired.


    He had walked into the meeting room and lit a cigar, a specially made mission prop. The scent particles released when it was lit could stick to people for a long time, forming a scent marker that humans couldn''t see or smell; only a certain kind of nocturnal insect would follow the scent marker.


    Snake Python had timed it perfectly. He lit the cigar before the meeting started and waited for the smoke to fill the meeting room. Everyone who entered the meeting room would be marked. After the meeting, he released the insects, and by watching the direction the insects flew in, he could roughly locate the position of those marked. The insects were also specially processed; if you put on night-vision goggles, you could see them emitting conspicuous fluorescence.


    He had considered everything thoroughly, knowing the bartender''s super ability. He didn''t use any high-tech tracking devices.


    But man proposes God disposes.


    Just as he lit the cigarette, Fox sshed water and extinguished it, extinguishing the hope and Snake Python''s ns.


    Originally, Richguy and Fox had some scent marker on them. After Snake Python reported the content of the meeting to his contact, the contact offered a high code price, asking him to shoot Richguy.


    Snake Python set everything in motion, released the insects, estimated the route, went to a bar, and nted parasitic Xenobiotics creatures in a few scapegoats to control them, thinking everything was foolproof.


    But the assassination mission failed, utterly failed.


    "I don''t want to take any more risks," Snake Python said.


    "What do you want to do if you don''t want to take risks? You''re in too deep; do you want to stay under the control of the Mechanical Dawn, being brainwashed by them?" the voice in themunicator asked. "Listen to me. Stay undercover until the right moment arrives. I can help you be yourself again. You''re not called ''Snake Python.'' You haven''t used your real name for so long. Haven''t you forgotten what it is?"


    Snake Python fell silent.


    "If you feel threatened, you can stop your actions for now and focus on transmitting information," the voice softened. "Richguy is a threat to our side, so I was eager to deal with it and failed to urately assess the abilities of Richguy and Fox, which led to the mission failure. I share the responsibility, and it was my mistake."


    Snake Python was still hesitating, "But I..."


    "An additional five million," the voice was calm, "once your mission isplete, you can take this money and go wherever you want."


    "What Ick is not money, you don''t understand," Snake Python said.


    The person on the other side of themunicator paused momentarily before saying, "One vial of God''s Blood added."


    Snake Python was stunned.


    "Your talent has reached its limit. The path of the awakened stops here; you''ll forever be a C-ss, unable to touch higher levels," the voice coaxed, "When you can''t see hope on the path of the awakened, you can choose to start over on a different path... You know what path that is."


    "Heterobloods!" Snake Python''s eyes widened.


    "Yes. Take God''s Blood, be Heterobloods, you can be stronger," the voice said, "If you''re strong enough, the Mechanical Dawn won''t be able to do anything to you."


    "I''ve heard that Heterobloods will turn into monsters..."


    "The safety of God''s Blood greatly increases after it has been diluted and filtered, and the chance of mutation is much less. You can''t avoid all risks."


    Snake Python was silent for a long time before saying, "Fine, I''ll continue to be a mole. As you said, I''ll only ry information; I won''t get involved in anything else. Don''t expect me to kill for you again."


    "No problem," the voice said generously. "You must give me more information about Richguy, height, body features, and voice. The more detailed, the better."


    Snake Python thought for a moment, "Richguy uses a voice changer, real voice unknown, height appears to be around 1.75 meters, gender also unknown..."


    "Gender unknown?" The person on the other end was taken aback.


    "The codename ''Richguy'' points too obviously to gender. It might be a smokescreen, but the true identity of Richguy could be a woman. You see, a height of 1.75 meters could either be a man or a woman. What if Richguy is disguising by wearing breast-binding? There are many mad people in Mechanical Dawn, most of whom have strange habits, like Red, who has a quite strange hobby." Snake Python said very cautiously. "In my experience, even if the codename ''Richguy'' sounds like a man, you can''t really consider this person as a man! What if Richguy''s super ability is rted to disguise, then what?"


    "...Your information is not virtually valuable. I can''t pinpoint a target." The person said.


    "As an undercover agent, of course, I was overthinking." Snake Python was very nervous.


    "You used to think too much but never this much. Did Richguy scare you out of your wits tonight to make you have such wild thoughts?" The person sneered.


    Snake Python was about to retort when he noticed his bracelet shing. Rose had sent a message.


    "I have to go. My teammate is looking for me." Snake Python closed themunicator, opened his bracelet, and said loudly, "Hey, boss!"


    "Finished yourte-night snack yet? If so, get over here and start working," Rose said icily.


    "Yes, yes, I''m on my way! I''ll be there in five minutes!"


    After ending themunication, Snake Python pped his thick face, straightened his back, and his whole person returned to a spirited state like a crowing rooster.


    He left the spot, hopped on his motorcycle, and drove off to find Rose.


    ...


    "This room is not bad," Fox was looking around.


    Jonathan opened the cab and found it filled with various types of clothes, from hip-hop wear to suits; everything was there. The smallpartment next to it was filled with all kinds of cosmetics, probably for the organization''s members to disguise themselves.


    He pulled out clothes and knocked on the bottom of the cab. The wooden board made a hollow sound. He lifted it to see a secret passage underneath. Red said this passage led directly to the intricate city sewer, an escape route.


    They had returned to the Ruby Bar again, this time on the third basement level, in a safe house for organization members to rest and heal.


    Fox tore open a can of fruit and began to eat, sitting cross-legged on the floor.


    All the emergency food in the safe house was canned, and there were separate boxes for medicines and weapon supplies. Behind a painting on the wall, there was a safe filled with gold bars. The Second World was a cashless society, but gold, as a precious metal, was still in cirction and was a hard currency in ck market transactions.


    "How are you going to work tomorrow morning?" Fox asked.


    "I''ll take the secret passage," Jonathan said, sitting on the bed and studying the sewer lines on a map.


    He nced at the time; it was three o''clock in the morning. If he continued like this, day and night, he would eventually die from exhaustion.


    "Where should I sleep?"


    "On the floor?" suggested Jonathan.


    Fox had no objection. He slept on the couch while resting at Jonathan''s house and never expected to sleep in a bed.


    After finishing his can of fruit, Fox grabbed a nket, spread it on the floor, andy down, wrapping himself in it, ready to sleep.


    Jonathan turned off the lights andy in bed. Out of all the people he knew, Fox was the most reliable.


    If Jonathan had to pick the person least likely to kill him among all the people who attended the meeting, it would be Fox. His super power was strong, and killing Jonathan would be effortless for him. A mere flick of his finger would end Jonathan''s life. Fox was a pure person with few thoughts on his mind. This was the main reason why Jonathan trusted Fox.


    The second one would be Red. Red knew Jonathan''s identity, his mission, his home location, and his position in the investigation department. If Red wanted to kill Jonathan, it would also be simple.


    If Jonathan had to pick someone he found most suspicious...he would choose Snake Python.


    Because he was too conspicuous and acted too foolishly.


    Snake Python did not seem to be deliberately ying the fool; all his behaviors were natural, and there were no traces of performance. But Jonathan just found him suspicious, without any logical reason.


    Jonathan thought back and forth, self-analyzing, trying to figure out when he started to have a bad impression of Snake Python. He remembered that the most displeasing thing about Snake Python''s smoking habit.


    Jonathan dislikes the smell of cigar smoke.


    He was lying in bed, unable to sleep, when Fox asked softly, "Why aren''t you sleeping yet?"


    "Your breathing is too loud," Jonathan replied.


    Fox said, "I''ll try to breathe lightly."


    Jonathan thought calmly for a moment, then reached out and messaged Red, "Focus on Snake Python. I think something''s off about him."


    Soon, Red replied, "Received."


    It was nearly four in the morning, and he had to sleep.


    Tomorrow, Jonathan would have to face a new challenge - he needed to go through a formal interview with the various group leaders in the investigation department.

 Chapter 20: "Go take a look, the secrets of this world are much more than you can imagine"

    <h4>Chapter 20: "Go take a look, the secrets of this world are much more than you can imagine"</h4>


    Jonathan felt like he was stepping out of the tiger''s den and into the wolf''sir when he stood in front of the Investigation Building.


    In the morning, he had entered the city''s sewer through a secret passage under the wardrobe in the safe house, climbed out of a manhole in a small alley a block away, and then took a hover rail car.


    ck Sea City is a coastal city with a developed drainage system. The sewers are wide enough for two sports cars to race side by side. The water level in the sewers had risen due to frequent heavy rains in the past few days, but the rain had stopped today, and the water level was gradually dropping.


    To avoid the smell of the sewer sticking to him, Jonathan had asked Fox to create a water curtain to iste the smell and divert the sewage, delivering him to his destination.


    "I always feel that I''ve discovered a lot of new uses for my super abilities by following you..." Fox said in a mncholy tone.


    Washing dishes, watering nts, mopping the floor, and using water to create a protectiveyer to iste smells, his super ability had truly been fully utilized by Jonathan.


    After Jonathan got on the rail car, Fox left.


    At five in the morning, when he was sleeping, Red sent a message asking Jonathan to go to work as usual, not to worry about the traitor, as he had already found some leads.


    Jonathan''s decision to go to work was not because of Red''s words but because he had to make this choice.


    If he chose to avoid work and disappear, the Investigation Department would be suspicious of him. If the mastermindst night was a mole from the Investigation Department, they could deduce his real identity from Jonathan''s disappearance. Suspicion would then turn into certainty, and he would have no choice but to take the risk.


    Jonathan was a key member of the Mechanical Dawn Organization, but he didn''t know how much weight and value he held within the organization. Was his life more important, or was his mole identity and intelligence more important? Would Mechanical Dawn sacrifice his life for thetter?


    If his full value of Jonathan was based on his identity as a mole, then losing that identity meant he lost his value. A person without value would not be taken seriously and would be abandoned by Mechanical Dawn.


    Jonathan was already aware of Mechanical Dawn''s iron-blooded and cruel nature, and he couldn''t let himself lose his value.


    As for the option to run away, Jonathan had thought about it, but it was unfeasible.


    His biological information, his ID, everything about him was in the hands of Mechanical Dawn. Sean had escaped from the psychiatric hospital, but he could barely move in this highly advanced society. Surveince cameras watched over the city, high-tech devices traced his every move, his ount was frozen in the cashless society, and he couldn''t even buy food.


    Through Sean, Jonathan could anticipate his situation if he decided to run.


    In addition to these, Jonathan would also have to face assassination. Fox was a bit naive, but he was also a qualified killer. His obedience stemmed from Jonathan being his superior and a core member of Mechanical Dawn. If Jonathan were to run away, Fox would definitely not let him go. He would go from being a useful tool to a de pointed at him.


    The intern security officer and member of Mechanical Dawn - these two identities were Jonathan''s umbres in the Second World.


    Before he had enough power to protect himself, he needed to maintain his identity and y the roles he should y.


    "Wee back, intern security officer Jonathan," Moss greeted as usual when Jonathan walked in.


    "Good morning," Robert said behind him.


    "Morning," Jonathan turned around to look.


    "You have heavy dark circles. Didn''t you sleep wellst night?" Robert asked with concern.


    "Yeah, I hardly slept all night." Jonathan yawned and walked into the elevator area.


    "I have coffee there. Shall I make some to refresh you?" Robert offered.


    "No need, it''s too bitter." Jonathan pressed the elevator button, "There are tea bags in the break room; I''ll just make some tea."


    "Are you having trouble sleeping because of the uing interview?" Robert joked.


    "That''s part of it." Jonathan sighed.


    There was an electronic screen in the elevator showing the time as 07:58. The working hours of the Investigation Department started at eight. In about an hour, he was going to have the interview.


    Jonathan walked out of the elevator area, and themunicator in his pocket beeped.


    Robert''smunicator also rang. He took it out to check. "Moss sent today''s work schedule. Let me see... Great, no tasks, no need to go out."


    Generally speaking, when the squad needs to carry out urgent tasks, Moss will immediately notify the squad members through the building''s internal broadcasting system. If there are no tasks, the day''s work schedule and training n will be sent to the members'' personalmunicators via emails for them to check.


    Jonathan opened his email, and as expected, he saw the day''s schedule - an interview.


    No training, no fieldwork, just the interview.


    Jonathan will lose this job if he fails the interview, so there''s no need to send the next task schedule.


    "I''m going to the tech room for my shift. Good luck with the interview." Robert raised his hand.


    Jonathan took a moment to realize that Robert wanted a high-five, so he also raised his hand.


    "p!" Their palms met.


    Robert turned and left while Jonathan considered whether to use the spare hour to practice shooting in area A or catch up on sleep in the break room.


    Before he could decide, Moss said, "Intern security officer Jonathan, your interview time has been changed. Please report to room 5313 on the fifth floor immediately. Your interviewer is waiting for you."


    Jonathan was surprised. "Why was it changed?"


    "There was a temporary shift in work arrangements. I''m sorry I can''t exin the specifics to you. Please immediately go to room 5313 on the fifth floor for your interview."


    "Okay." Jonathan turned and pressed the elevator button.


    Temporary tasks and emergencies aremon in the Investigation Department. Perhaps the time of Jonathan''s interview shed with an interviewer''s schedule, causing the interview time to change.


    The elevator ascended, and Jonathan gently adjusted his breathing. After the elevator door opened, he walked out steadily and headed to the corridor.


    "Please follow the green indicator light," Moss pointed out the direction and route to room 5313 for Jonathan.


    Crossing the long corridor, Jonathan stopped in front of room 5313. The metal door opened silently, and he walked in.


    A long ck table came into view. Behind the table sat four people, two men and two women.


    A man with half-white hair and steady eyes, a young man in a suit with neatlybed hair and gold-rimmed sses, a middle-aged woman who was efficient, serious, and resembled a headteacher, and a woman with dyed red curly hair who was elegant and intelligent.


    Jonathan immediately matched the information in his mind. The man with white hair was Engapes, the leader of the Logistics Support Group. The young man with the gold-rimmed sses was Rinaldi, the leader of the Information Technology Group. The woman who resembled a headteacher was Grolberna, the leader of the Field Group and Jonathan''s and Martin''s direct superior.


    Thest red-haired woman was the famous leader of the Criminal Investigation Group, Beyema.


    "Jonathan, right?" Grolberna said, "Please, take a seat."


    "Yes, hello, leaders." Jonathan sat down on the chair, facing the four interviewers.


    Grolberna nodded, formally saying, "Martin submitted your application for promotion to me. I have seen your achievements and fieldwork records during your internship. You''re good, but whether you can stay in the Investigation Department depends on your performance in this interview."


    "I understand, I''m ready."


    Not only did Grolberna resemble a headteacher in her demeanor, but she also spoke like one. Jonathan had adjusted his emotions to be calm, but Grolberna''s speech made him unconsciously nervous.


    Beyema thenughed and said, "Don''t be so nervous, rx, we''ll ask, and you just answer, like a small talk."


    Beyema''s way of speaking reminded Jonathan of James from the psychological therapy office. Looking closely, Beyema and James looked somewhat simr... could they be rted?


    Engapes, the Logistics Support Group leader, asked, "Are you adapting well in the Investigation Department, Jonathan?"


    When he didn''t speak, he seemed like a high-ranking individual, but once he spoke, he sounded like an elder, like an uncle.


    Jonathan felt some of the tension inside him rx.


    He should just tell the truth, only the truth.


    "I think I''ve adapted quite well. I can handle most of the work, and there''s just a small part I didn''t do perfectly because it was my first time. My mentality may not have been the best either," Jonathan said, "I will strive to ovee these areas."


    "Do you want to stay and work in the Investigation Department?" Rinaldi asked.


    "Yes," Jonathan thoughtfully replied, "but this job sometimes involves great danger. Sometimes, I worry about getting hurt or even losing my life..."


    Beyema asked, "You''re worried about losing your life, but you still want to stay and work here?"


    "Without considering the risks, I think being a security officer is a very good job. Thepensation is high, there are plenty of opportunities for promotion, and the colleagues are quite kind," Jonathan said honestly.


    Jonathan would be over the moon if he were in the first world and had a secure civil service job. The Investigation Department belongs to the federation and is an official department; the sry is much higher than other ces. If Jonathan were a native of the second world, then this job at the Investigation Department would truly be his best option.


    "We''ve reviewed your family background information," Engapes, the leader of the Information Technology Group, stated, "You took out quite a few loans for college, didn''t you?"


    "My family isn''t well off..." Jonathan seemed to answer, but in fact, he avoided the question.


    He did not answer yes or no explicitly.


    Engapes pointed out, "Your motivation to stay and work in the Investigation Department is money, right?"


    Jonathan momentarily thought, "As someone from a not-so-well-off family, I know how important a stable and high-paying job is... But the pay is not the main reason I want to stay."


    "Please borate," Engapes said.


    "I want to stay because this is the best choice for me. In the Investigation Department, I can learn and improve myself, I get paid, colleagues look out for each other, and the work environment is good. Apart from the high work risk and psychological pressure, I''m quite satisfied with everything else... I can''t find a better alternative, so I want to stay." Jonathanughed a little shyly, "Sorry, I was being blunt. I''m a pragmatist."


    "Most people in the Investigation Department are pragmatists, and so am I," Engapes adjusted his gold-rimmed sses, "The glory of idealism is certainly dazzling, but only by keeping your feet on the ground can you go further."


    The expressions of the four interviewers did not change, which steadied Jonathan''s state of mind. He believed that his answers were good so far, and he did not show any suspicious points.


    Jonathan was a transmigrator, and he could tell part of the truth. If it were his original self, he wouldn''t have been able to answer the previous questions truthfully.


    Engapes was asked why he wanted to stay on in the investigative division. Could he respond, "The organization has nted me as an undercover agent, so I wish to remain?"


    Such an answer was absolutely uneptable. However, he would have to lie if he couldn''t tell the truth. But lies cannot escape the "lie detection" superpower.


    Rinaldi said, "We have a set of standards to determine whether an intern qualifies to be a formal employee, and psychological evaluation is paramount."


    "Do you mean the ability when handling stress and mental health?" Jonathan asked.


    "Yes." Rinaldi''s voice was deep, "You should know how dangerous our job is; I heard that you''ve had a metal skull recement due to an injury."


    "The metal skull is quite useful; it provides excellent protection for my head," Jonathan said.


    "The federation allocates funds to the Investigation Department each year, and arge portion of these funds are used for casualtypensation. This job is apanied by death. What you face is not only the death of enemies but also the death of your teammates," Rinaldi said, "We want to confirm whether you can withstand such psychological pressure."


    "I believe I can handle it," Jonathan said, "I have not experienced the death of a teammate, only the death of enemies. Looking back at that scene now, I''ve calmed down a lot."


    Grolberna stared into Jonathan''s eyes, "Martin submitted your record. Your first kill was not long ago, and the targets were two robbers on Baker Street."


    "Yes." This time, Jonathan gave an affirmative answer. This was something he had experienced, and it was indeed his first time killing someone; he didn''t need to answer ambiguously.


    He said, "I overreacted that time on Baker Street. The best way to handle the situation was not to kill. I know that."


    "Your second kill was Sean, the mentally ill fugitive?" Grolberna said.


    "Yes," Jonathan said.


    "What was it like to kill for the first time?" Grolberna asked.


    Before Jonathan could answer, Beyema, next to Grolberna, said, "If you don''t want to recall, you can refuse to answer. I know that recalling such things isn''t pleasant."


    Jonathan paused, choosing to answer: "Panic, confusion, fear, unreality... and nausea."


    "What was different about the feeling of killing for the second timepared to the first?" Grolberna continued.


    "The second time was even more hesitant than the first," Jonathan murmured, "But I was more proactive. I deliberately fired the gun, consciously thinking and judging, and decided to take Sean''s life after deep consideration... but I do not regret doing so."


    Grolberna''s tone softened subtly: "You understand the reverence for life; that''s good. Excessive rationality bes cruelty, and excessive sensitivity is weakness. Finding a clear boundary between reason and emotion is what you need to do."


    "I understand; thank you for the reminder," Jonathan said softly.


    "You''ve been to the psychotherapy room, haven''t you?" Beyema said, "How did it feel to receive psychological counseling?"


    "I''ve been there; James is very nice, chatting with him is rxing, I like the decor of the psychotherapy office," Jonathan joked, "Hmm... if I ever have an office in the future, I would consider James''s decoration style."


    Beyemaughed softly and said, "You''re an interesting person, Jonathan."


    "I would like to ask, are you rted to James?" Jonathan asked, "You look much like him and speak simrly."


    "I''m his cousin," Beyema said, "He majored in psychology in college, and I majored in criminal psychology. He became a therapist, and I became a security officer."


    "I see," Jonathan said.


    "Some people are very resistant to psychological counseling and therapy, especially those who are assertive and have achieved in some fields; they insist that mental illness is not a big deal. But psychological therapy is necessary. They may have strong bodies and excellent minds, but not necessarily indomitable spirits. People always refuse to expose their vulnerable side in front of others," Beyema said, "We have many such stubborn people in the Investigation Department, don''t learn from them. If there''s a problem, go to the psychotherapy office in time."


    "I will remember your advice," Jonathan said.


    Rinaldi asked Jonathan, "Do you have any goals you want to achieve?"


    Jonathan said, "I don''t have long-term goals at the moment. My short-term goal is to do my job well, strive for progress, and study hard."


    "You can be pragmatic, but you can''t just look at the present. You have to have a long-term vision," Rinaldi said.


    Beyemaughed, "I quite like you, Jonathan. Would you like to move to our criminal detective team after bing a regr employee? Your major is in criminal investigation techniques, your grades are pretty good, and your theory is solid."


    Grolberna raised an eyebrow, "Are you nning to poach him already?"


    I can''t go there. Jonathan thought warily.


    Rumor has it that Beyema''s extraordinary ability is "lie detection." If Jonathan went there, the number of times he had to deal with Beyema would increase dramatically, and he couldn''t possibly lie to Beyema every time they met. Not to mention that Jonathan has no theoretical knowledge of criminal investigation techniques. He is still struggling with his studies. It would be over if he went there.


    Jonathan thought of an excuse, "I told Captain Martin that if other team leaders don''t care for their subordinates as much as he does, I wouldn''t request a transfer..."


    A trace of a smile appeared on Grolberna''s serious face.


    Beyema pretended to be regretful, "Well, that''s too bad."


    Engapes''municator vibrated on his body. He looked down at it and immediately stood up: "I have a mission, I have to go, everyone."


    He nodded to his colleagues in the meeting room as a farewell and walked out without pausing.


    The remaining three interviewers asked Jonathan some more questions, and he prudently answered them. The whole interview processsted about fifteen minutes.


    "The interview can end now." Beyema said, "We started the interview early this time because of time issues. Most of us have missions to carry out, and time is tight. It''s hard to get together." She nced at the time, "I have something to do and need to leave."


    Jonathan couldn''t help asking, "Did I pass my interview?"


    "Of course." Beyema smiled, "Congrattions on officially joining the Investigation Department, Jonathan."


    Grolberna also gave a small smile, "You''re very good, Jonathan."


    "Your information in the Investigation Department will be updatedter, and your citizen level will be raised from four to three," Rinaldi said, "Wee to the team."


    The citizen level is a very important thing.


    Depending on the citizen level, people enjoy different welfare benefits in society. For example, when someone wants to borrow from a bank, those with a higher citizen level are often more likely to get a low-interest loan, and there are different degrees of preferential treatment for the monthly pension payment and insurance business. Mostw-abiding people are fourth-ss citizens, those with minor criminal records are fifth-ss citizens, those with major criminal records are sixth-ss citizens, and sixth-ss citizens will be deprived of political rights. Jonathan was promoted to a third-ss citizen because he is now a federal government member, and his status is different from ordinary people.


    This is a world with clear ss distinctions.


    Jonathan faintly guessed that this interview was not testing his personal ability but his heart.


    The interviewers confirmed whether he was lying, whether his identity was true, and whether he had ulterior motives for joining the Investigation Department... As long as his identity and purpose were fine, bing a regr employee would be almost guaranteed.


    Grolberna came over to Jonathan and said, "Go find your captain. He will give you an induction training."


    "Training?" Jonathan was taken aback.


    "Yes, training." Grolberna said meaningfully, "To show you the other side of the world... Actually, you''ve almost seen it, and you just don''t systematically understand those things."


    Jonathan thought of it: "You mean..."


    "Xenobiotics creature. The parasitic hydra you saw in your previous mission is just one of them. There are many more types of Xenobiotics creatures, and they are more dangerous and have more terrifying abilities," Grolberna said, "Go take a look, Jonathan. The secrets of this world are much more than you can imagine."

 Chapter 21: "What are the functions of these hidden floors?"

    <h4>Chapter 21: "What are the functions of these hidden floors?"</h4>


    Jonathan took the elevator to Martin''s office.


    After getting into the elevator, Moss sent him a new work schedule.


    There was only one task in the morning - new employee orientation. There were two tasks scheduled for the afternoon. The training was from half past two to half past five, and at six, he had to go to the field team''s group meeting room for a meeting.


    It seemed like there were few tasks to do in a day, but there was no leisure time at all. The training was boring and tiresome, but he had to do it. Jonathan was counting on these skills to save his life.


    With a ding, the elevator stopped at the third floor.


    The elevator doors opened, and Martin happened to be waiting at the door.


    "Captain!" Jonathan put down themunicator and looked up.


    "Right on time." Martin stepped into the elevator, pressed the close door button, and said, "Moss, negative six floors."


    "Yes, the floor lock has been released," Moss replied.


    Martin noticed the surprise in Jonathan''s eyes, so he patiently exined, "Our investigation department has many hidden floors. The buttons for these floors are not marked in the elevator. Only those with permissions canmand Moss to unlock the floor and enter."


    "I see." Jonathan nced at the elevator buttons. The highest floor disyed was sixty-six, and the lowest was negative three, while Martin had just said the floor number was negative six.


    Could more hidden floors be between the third and sixth basement floors or even below the sixth basement? What are the functions of these hidden floors?


    Mechanical Dawn''s infiltration into the investigation department wasn''t deep. The chip the organization asked Dr. Neil to hand over to him contained some vague spections, and some were not mentioned. Jonathan was the first sessful undercover agent to prate the interior. Unlike Dr. Neil in the medical center, although he was also an undercover agent, his work was limited to medical treatment, and he didn''t have ess to security personnel''s work. Hence, the intelligence he could gather was limited.


    Jonathan was different. On his first official day at work, the training he received was rted to the core secrets of the investigation department.


    The elevator went all the way down and stopped soon. When the elevator doors opened, Jonathan smelled the cold, damp scent of water, and cold air rushed into the small elevator. His arms immediately got goosebumps.


    The elevator was illuminated, while the basement floor outside was pitch dark. The profound darkness and icy vapor made one hesitate to proceed.


    Suddenly, the lights turned on, illuminating the underground floor.


    The first thing that caught Jonathan''s eye was the seamless, silver-white metallic wall. Treated to be anti-reflective, the wall didn''t re under the light, but droplets of water were beading on its surface, shimmering softly at first nce.


    Why was the humidity so high here?


    "Come on, Jonathan. Let''s change into protective suits first," Martin walked ahead to lead the way.


    "It feels like a horror movie," Jonathan said, "What is this ce, Captain?"


    "A specimen hall �� one of them," Martin said, "This ce stores some specimens of Xenobiotics creature. Once these Xenobiotics creatures die, their bodies are hard to preserve, so we must always immerse them in a special solution, controlling the humidity and temperature."


    They turned right, and in front of them was a long corridor. Martin went in first. Red lights illuminated both sides of the corridor, and a foggy disinfectant was sprayed from the top of the corridor. After the disinfection waspleted, the red lights in the corridor turned green, and then Martin came out of the corridor.


    Jonathan followed Martin''s example and entered the corridor for disinfection.


    "Some Xenobiotics creatures are frozen in liquid nitrogen at low temperatures, so it''s very cold inside. That''s why the protective suits are made of thick material." Martin took out a protective suit and showed Jonathan how to wear it.


    The protective suit was as thick as a spacesuit. Once put on, it made the wearer look like a snowman.


    Jonathan struggled to put on it. With Martin''s help, he pulled up the zipper on the back. Finally, they both put on ss helmets.


    There was amunication device inside the protective suit. Despite the cover of the ss helmet, Jonathan could still hear Martin''s voice.


    Thest metal door opened, and Jonathan walked alongside Martin into the "specimen hall."


    Then, he received a thunderous shock.


    Ghastly, human bodies were immersed in transparent ss jars full of light green solution. The heads were missing from the bodies'' necks, reced by coiled, dark red tentacles. The tentacles sprouted from the neck and floated quietly in the green solution.


    This specimen was not the worst; the real horror was yet.


    Jonathan turned his head and saw on his left a half-human body that had been parasitized by an Xenobiotics creature preserved in a ss jar. It was cut in half, disying a clear cross-section of the deformed body, with organs like the heart and intestines clearly visible.


    "Don''t vomit inside your protective suit," Martin warned.


    Jonathan looked away, trying to keep his cool. "I...I didn''t eat much this morning and won''t vomit."


    "You''re quite calm for a newbie," Martin said. "Robert vomited right in his protective suit when he first saw this."


    "He went through the entire tour in a vomit-filled suit?" Jonathan asked.


    "Of course not; our investigation department is not that cruel," Martinughed. "He went back, showered, changed his clothes, and returned for the underground tour in the afternoon."


    "Poor Robert," Jonathan said, trying to distract himself. He felt much better, "I''ve seen parasitic hydra before; their tentacles are transparent, so the visual impact is not that bad, but these dark red tentacles are..."


    These dark red tentacles were grotesque, evil, and eerie, even more disgusting than the tentacles of the parasitic hydroid.


    "This one is called the Red Thorn Hunter. It''s much more ferocious than the parasitic hydra. Humans parasitized by it basically don''t survive for more than three days, which means it needs to change its host every three days," Martin pointed at the ss jar. "Look."


    Jonathan leaned in to read thebel on the jar.


    "Species: Red Thorn Hunter. Status: Growth period. Implementation Date: 2083.02.19. Executor: Grolberna."


    "This Red Thorn Hunter was killed by Team leader Grolberna three years ago during a mission. She brought it back intact for the researchers to dissect and study," Martin said. "The Red Thorn Hunter is extremely rare. It has a long growth cycle and needs to change its host every three days on average. This Red Thorn Hunter grew for at least two months, and you can imagine how many people it killed to grow to this stage."


    Jonathan was shocked, "So many people died, didn''t the Investigation Department notice?"


    "This Red Thorn Hunter got on a smuggling ship. More than twenty people were on that tiny ship, all in its reserves. By the time the smuggling ship drifted near the waters of ck Sea City, only one person was left alive on the ship. He was barely alive when the Coastal Security Team found the ship," Martin looked at the pale body in the jar. "Of course, that one surviving person is also dead now. His body is in the specimen jar in front of us."


    He recounted the bloody story with a calm tone, revealing an attitude of habitual familiarity with such matters.


    "You just mentioned that it''s in the growth period?" Jonathan asked.


    "Yes, the sequence isrval, growth, and mature stages," Martin said. "Follow me."


    He walked past a few specimen jars to arge horizontal metal cab and opened the sealed lid.


    Cold mist seeped out of the cab, enclosing a fist-sized, semi-transparent creature that looked harmless and soft, like a jellyfish, embedded in a clear ice block.


    "We don''t have any Red Thorn Hunterrvae, but we do have parasitic hydrarvae," Martin said. "This is what it looks like in therval stage when it''s very vulnerable. It drifts in the sea, parasitizing fish. If a fisherman happens to catch a fish that''s been parasitized, they''ll move on to humans. If the fish isn''t caught, they drift until they reach the growth phase. After that, they crawl ashore and look for humans to parasitize on piers, feeding and reproducing off humans."


    Martin closed the cab door: "Parasitic hydras melt upon death, so ice preserves the specimens longer."


    He opened another metal cab nearby, "This is a parasitic hydra in the growth period, like the one we encountered that day."


    This parasitic hydra specimen was the same as the Red Thorn Hunter; its tentacles connected to a human torso, a monstrous sight. Because the tentacles and human torso were frozen in ice, so they looked particrly twisted.


    "They''re not without weaknesses; parasitic hydras fear fire and can''t leave the water," Jonathan said. "The me throwers on our patrol cars can significantly damage them. They mostly stay by the sea and rarely go into the city center��this is what Robert told me."


    "Yes, most aquatic Xenobiotics creatures are afraid of fire and can''t leave the water, which is why they don''t breed inrge numbers in the city," Martin said. "The Xenobiotics creatures in ck Sea City are all aquatic. As for terrestrial ones... I haven''t seen them with my own eyes. Perhaps there are records in ind cities."


    "Are there mature Xenobiotics creatures?" Jonathan asked proactively.


    Martin nodded slightly, "A fraction."


    "A fraction?" Jonathan asked, confused.


    "It was divided into two halves; one half was sent to theboratory at ck Sea Academy for research, and the other half is here," Martin said. "Come with me."

 Chapter 22: "He has turned himself into a monster"

    <h4>Chapter 22: "He has turned himself into a monster"</h4>


    They walked past ss jars containing strange creatures and human organ specimens covered in bizarre growths, arriving in a separate room.


    Martin lowered his head to verify his iris, and Moss said: "ording to your authorization, you have three minutes to tour and teach."


    The metal door opened, and the intensely cold air that drifted out was far more potent than the room that held the parasitic hydra. Even with the thick protective suits, he could feel the biting cold.


    Jonathan was stunned as soon as he entered. When he looked up, he felt like he was in the underwater tunnel of an aquarium, looking at swimming fish through the ss. But this was not an aquarium; it was arge icehouse filled with clear ice.


    Inside the solid and transparent ice block, an alien creature that looked like an octopus extended its tentacles. It was sorge that it almost filled the entire icehouse. Its yellow eyes had a narrow, horizontal pupil, and the suction cups on its thick tentacles were evenrger than a football.


    The specimen was incredibly well preserved, almost lifelike. When Jonathan was stared at by its yellow eyes, he felt palpitation. Unfortunately, there was only half of this specimen, and they could only imagine what it looked like alive through this half-body.


    "Kraken," Martin said. "Quite shocking, isn''t it?"


    "Kraken?" Jonathan was jolted back to his thoughts by the familiar name.


    "In folk legends, there''s a sea monster called Kraken. In the past, when technology wasn''t so advanced, people believed that a monster called Kraken lived in the deep sea, pulling ships underwater and eating people on board," Martin exined. "The legend is true. The giant creature known as Kraken is indeed an Xenobiotics creature. However, people no longer believe in these sea monsters'' existence. The investigative department secretly eliminates these Xenobiotics creatures, maintaining the order of human society."


    The Kraken and the Kraken monster.. Was the name of that cargo ship carrying the mysterious cargo derived from this folk legend?


    "How did the investigative department sessfully eliminate such a terrifying Xenobiotics creature as the Kraken?" Jonathan asked.


    Martin said, "The investigative department didn''t kill this Kraken. It died naturally and was washed ashore. The Kraken doesn''t need to parasitize humans. It can hunt independently, although it sometimes preys on humans."


    Time was up, and Martin took Jonathan out of the icehouse.


    "Does the investigative department preserve the specimens of Xenobiotics creatures just for teaching and observation?" Jonathan asked. "It seems very expensive to do so. Temperature control, humidity control, and liquid nitrogen freezing must be running 24/7, requiring many resources. Wouldn''t images and holographic projections also achieve almost the same teaching effect?"


    "It is indeed very expensive, and technology can indeedpensate for teaching," Martin replied. "So, of course, the investigative department''s preservation of Xenobiotics creature carcasses isn''t just for teaching."


    Jonathan pondered, "It should be for research as well. Captain, you mentioned the ck Sea Academy. Is the ck Sea Academy also studying Xenobiotics creatures?"


    "Yes, exactly," Martin said. "We have finished visiting the specimen gallery on the sixth basement floor. Next, we''ll go to the fifth basement floor. There are some other things you need to know."


    They exited the cold specimen gallery, removed their protective clothing in the changing room, sprayed disinfectant water again, and returned to the elevator.


    "Moss, fifth basement floor," Martin nced at the elevator clock. "We still have plenty of time."


    Moss replied, "Floor lockdown has been released."


    The elevator ascended, and the door opened in just a few seconds.


    "Do we need protective suits this time?" Jonathan asked, "They''re really hard to put on."


    Martin replied, "Not this time, but you''ll need to change into a sterile dust-proof suit."


    The entry process was much simpler this time. After disinfecting and putting on the dust-proof suit, they just had to meticulously stuff their hair into the cap and secure it.


    Unlike the quiet specimen gallery on the sixth basement floor, there were quite a few people on the fifth floor. Through the ss istion window, they could see people in white work clothes busily working at their respective desks.


    "Where is this?" Jonathan asked in surprise.


    "This is ab, ourb for studying Xenobiotics creatures," Martin said sinctly. "The Investigation Department cooperates with many institutions, such as the Biotechnology Laboratory of the ck Sea Academy, the Federal Government''s Cell Research Institute, and research departments under some private consortiums. These research institutions share amon research topic - Xenobiotics creature."


    Jonathan looked around theb and said, "Are they researching how to deal with them?"


    "It''s more than that," Martin said meaningfully. "They are more interested in how to extract value from them."


    "Extract value?" Jonathan turned his head to look at Martin.


    Martin led him into theb and said, "You''ll see."


    An obviously older researcher saw Martin, "Brought a newbie?"


    "Yes, we''ll only need ten minutes," Martin replied politely.


    "Not bad," the researcher nced at Jonathan, "It''s been a long time since we''ve had a neer. Do your best."


    Martin picked up a light blue reagent from the table as the researcher returned to his work.


    "This is the venom of the Red Thorn Hunter in its unpurified state. It''s highly corrosive and can corrode metal," he said, putting on gloves and taking a piece of iron. He dripped the liquid in the bottle onto the iron.


    With a sizzling sound, a small round hole appeared in the one-millimeter-thick iron piece.


    "Hunting Xenobiotics creature is very dangerous. Our bulletproofbat suits can''t resist the squeeze of the parasitic hydras'' tentacles, nor can they resist the corrosion of the Red Thorn Hunter''s venom," Martin said. "They are dangerous species, but their bodies also hide treasures."


    "Parasitic hydras and Red Thorn Hunter both rely on parasitizing humans for growth and reproduction. They share onemon feature: they only parasitize living beings. No matter how deformed or mindless the parasitized humans be, they will stay alive until their nutrients arepletely drained. Even if their bodies be skeletal and can barely move, they still live," Martin put down the light blue reagent, "They secrete a special substance to maintain the host''s life, letting the host hang on to existence."


    "Like leeches?" Jonathan followed Martin''s train of thought, "Leeches secrete anticoagnts when they suck human blood. Although their blood-sucking behavior harms humans, the anticoagnts found in them can be used for medical purposes."


    "Yes, that''s what I''m trying to say." Martin smiled, "They are terrifying creatures, but they also have value. If we can figure out theponents of the secretion and synthesize it artificially, it could lead to major breakthroughs in the medical field."


    "Have we made any progress?" Jonathan asked curiously.


    "Of course." Martin came to another table and took out two reagents, "This is one of the substances extracted from the body of the parasitic hydra. It has a strong anti-inmmatory and analgesic effect. And this reagent can elerate wound healing, promoting cell division. These two reagents have been widely used in the Investigation Department."


    Jonathan eximed, "Did I also get an injection of this drug when I had head surgery? The wound recovery speed is incredible."


    "Probably did," Martin said, "It''s very effective. Our field team casualties have reduced a lot in the past two years. These scientific research achievements deserve credit. Researchers are trying to extract more value from Xenobiotics creature."


    "Is the main value of Xenobiotics creature research for drugs?" Jonathan said, "Are there any other uses?"


    "They have three types of value. The first is in the medical field, and the second is in the field of materials science," Martin said. "Materials science is not a research topic of the Investigation Departmentb, and it''s outsourced to biotechnologypanies. However, we have some samples in ourb."


    Martin picked up a piece of jet-ck cloth ced on a desk in the corner, "Try pulling it, Jonathan."


    Jonathan grabbed the cloth and tugged at it. The short cloth suddenly stretched several times its length. He stepped back to increase the distance, and the cloth seemed to have no limit to its stretch.


    "This is a new biological material extracted from the body of a tentacled Xenobiotics creature. It can''t be mass-produced yet, but it has good sticity and isn''t afraid of sharp objects," Martin casually grabbed a small knife used for experiments and cut the cloth. No trace was left, and he stabbed downwards with the tip of the knife. The cloth remained unscathed.


    "It seems these are just the tip of the iceberg of the research results," Jonathan said.


    "Yes, just the tip of the iceberg. The research institutions cooperating with us have even more scientific research achievements," Martin said. "Jonathan, you must remember, our main goal is to eliminate Xenobiotics creatures to maintain public safety, not to capture Xenobiotics creatures for profit. New drugs and new materials are just incidental gains. Compared to the risks, our gains can be said to be negligible... I can''t remember how many teammates and colleagues have died in battle. The Investigation Department holds a memorial service every year, and I attend every year."


    "I''ll do my best to survive," Jonathan said calmly.


    He was already aware of the stakes. On the day before he crossed into the second world, Jonathan had already made up his mind. He would do everything he could to survive and avoid all Bad Ends to reach the Happy End.


    "Captain, you just mentioned that Xenobiotics creatures have three uses. What is the third one?" he asked.


    Martin patted Jonathan on the shoulder, "Follow me to the third basement, and you''ll know."


    "The third basement? I remember that''s where the temporary detention cells are, holding some criminals who haven''t had the chance to be tried in court," Jonathan said as he followed.


    "The third basement is indeed a temporary detention area, but you probably don''t know that the cells don''t just hold ordinary criminals," Martin said. "The third basement is the ce with the strictest security measures in the whole Investigation Building. It''s actually divided into two areas, the East and the West. The East holds ordinary criminals, and the West does not."


    Having removed their dust suits, they once again took the elevator.


    Jonathan held back his curiosity, waiting for the answer to be revealed.


    The heavy stuff alwaysesst, he thought. He had learned about the Xenobiotics creature and knew their danger and value, so what was next? What was waiting for him next?


    The elevator doors opened, with armed security personnel standing on either side.


    After stepping out of the elevator, there were paths on both the left and right. Jonathan nced around; heavy metal doors blocked both areas. Martin led Jonathan to the right and then scanned his iris.


    The door rumbled as it lifted. This time, the sound of the metal door opening differed from before. The metal doors on other floors opened silently and smoothly, but this one made a loud noise. Looking closely, the metal door of the third basement was more than thirty centimeters thick and must have weighed tons.


    The security measures were indeed strict.


    The sound of Martin''s footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. The cells on both sides of the corridor were not blocked by iron bars but by bulletproof ss. Many of the cells were empty, and there seemed to be few prisoners in the West area.


    "A few days ago, a new prisoner arrived. His condition is very bad, and he may die in a few days. The doctors can''t save him," Martin said, "I''ll take you to see him."


    This prisoner must be very special. Jonathan made such a judgment.


    They hadn''t walked for long before Martin stopped.


    He turned around and pointed at the cell, signaling Jonathan to look over.


    "Hiss." Jonathan couldn''t help but gasp at the sight of the prisoner.


    The male prisoner was lying on the ground, staring nkly at the ceiling of his cell. The skin he exposed was a terrifying grayish-blue color. His knuckles were twisted and protruding, and his fingers were incredibly long and limp, like tentacles! The tentacles of Xenobiotics creature!


    The prisoner suddenly coughed and vomited a lump of flesh, which was actually squirming slightly on the ground.


    "Is he infested by a monster?" Jonathan asked in disgust.


    Even though he hadn''t eaten much for breakfast, he couldn''t stand such repeated visual shocks. He was truly about to vomit.


    "No, he''s not infested by a monster," Martin said calmly, "He has turned himself into a monster."


    He looked at Jonathan, "This is the third use of alien creatures I wanted to tell you about."


    "Some illegal secret religious groups collect and purify the blood of Xenobiotics creatures for some evil purpose. They drink this blood in an attempt to gain power from it."


    "They refer to the Xenobiotics creature as the remnants of ancient gods. The extracted blood of these creatures is called ''god blood'' by them, and the people who gain super power through this ''god blood,'' we call them ''Heterobloods.''"

 Chapter 23: "The... legacy of ancient gods?"

    <h4>Chapter 23: "The... legacy of ancient gods?"</h4>


    "The... legacy of ancient gods?" Jonathan uttered, finding it absurd.


    "They seem to think so," Martin said. "Xenobiotics creatures have existed from ancient times, as is evident from widely circted folk tales. However, it''s undeniable that xenobiotic creatures differ vastly from the usual fauna. They scarcely resemble anything that our could give birth to."


    "Indeed, they are rather repugnant," Jonathan quipped. "I might find myself skipping lunch."


    "Thirty years ago, the federal government passed legition that deems all nefarious secret cults illegal. We no longer need gods to guide humanity forward��science should be our guide," Martin stated. "However, various secret cults continue to persist. If they were to keep hiding, the investigation department would turn a blind eye. Sadly, they never learn their lesson."


    Jonathan looked at the man lying in the cell and asked, "Is he part of a secret cult?"


    "Yes. A week ago, the third squad of the field team raided their gathering ce. They were in the middle of a ritual, administering ''god blood'' to some followers," Martin said with a mocking smile. "Not one of them escaped capturing."


    "Do all Heterobloods experience physical mutations?" Jonathan inquired, observing the prisoner. "It seems like he won''t live much longer. Is their lifespan always so short?"


    Martin pondered, "The investigation department records every captured Heterobloods, and ording to those records, each one experiences bodily mutations to varying degrees. This particr Heterobloods''s level of mutation is only moderate."


    "I can''t imagine how grotesque the severe cases must be," Jonathan murmured.


    "You can request ess to these records from Moss; they include photos and videos of the mutation process," Martin advised. "I''d avoid watching them before or after a meal unless you''re keen on losing your appetite or throwing up."


    Jonathan grimaced, "Thanks for the warning, Captain."


    "We haven''t conducted any research on the lifespan of Heterobloods here. I can tell you that none of the Heterobloods we''ve captured have survived more than a month," Martin revealed. "The mutation is irreversible; doctors and prisoners can only watch helplessly as their bodies gradually transform into monstrous deformities, eventually bing unrecognizable."


    "How horrifying..." Jonathan sighed. "Did they gain super abilities after paying such a terrible price?"


    "They might have," Martin conceded. "Our observations and experiments have shown that Heterobloods heal exceptionally quickly after injury, faster than even the most physically gifted Awakened. Their strength also increases, bing two to three times that of ordinary people. However, this is based solely on the data collected from captured Heterobloods. In exchange for these abilities, their lifespans rapidly deteriorate, and their bodies mutate. So far, records suggest they don''t possess a wide range of super abilities like Awakened individuals; only their physical attributes improve."


    "Hasn''t there been a single individual who managed to survive?" Jonathan asked. "The price they pay and the benefits they receive arepletely disproportionate. Why do they still insist on taking god blood?"


    "Ordinary people can''t understand their fanaticism. But they believe it''s worth it," Martin said. "There might be individuals who have sessfully survived after taking god blood. During interrogations, these Heterobloods seem convinced of this possibility. They believe their failures are due to the gods not epting them. They think their deaths offer blood, flesh, and souls to the ancient gods, helping to revive the slumbering deities."


    Jonathan pondered, "I wonder if the survivors possess super abilities as diverse as those of the Awakened? Can''t we capture one and interrogate them?"


    "It''s difficult. They''re very good at hiding, and the true cult leaders never show themselves," Martin said, his expression darkening slightly. "That means all the followers and Heterobloods we''ve captured so far are merely the low-level and peripheral members of the secret cults. The core has never been exposed."


    Jonathan was astonished. The investigation department, as a government agency, wielded considerable power.


    The super artificial intelligence Moss had terrifyingputational capabilities, quickly screening city surveince and locating suspects. It could also remotely control reconnaissance drones and track a person''s traces online, assisting the investigation department in casting a wide search.


    Despite the Investigation Department teeming with skilled agents, including numerous Awakened and even high-ranking Awakened individuals, have they still failed to apprehend the core members of these secret societies?


    "Your onboarding training is nearlyplete, Jonathan," Martin turns around to face him, speaking in a gentle yet serious tone. "We have to maintain the city''s security, eliminate Xenobiotics creatures, andbat forces lurking in society''s shadows. From this day forward, you must fulfill your security officer duties."


    Martin''s expression seemed to convey great expectations, and Jonathan responded with a smile, "I will do my best, Captain."


    Fulfilling his duty would depend on the situation, as risking his life for it was out of the question. The essence of self-preservation was to let others take the lead, assess the problem, and then n his next move.


    "We can leave now," Martin said.


    Back in the elevator, Jonathan pondered the differences between Heterobloods and Awakened, two distinct upations and paths to power.


    Jonathan remembered his game system''s description of a "Dispossessor " was: "A profession that gains power by hunting down and seizing the super abilities of special ability users."


    "Special ability users" didn''t specifically refer to "Awakened." Could this mean that if Jonathan killed Heterobloods, he could still strip their powers for his use?


    "Are you thinking about the Xenobiotics creature ?" Martin''s concerned voice echoed in his ears.


    "No," Jonathan snapped back to reality. "I was wondering how much my sry would increase once I be a regr employee."


    "..." Martin fell silent.


    "Captain," Jonathan looked into his eyes and asked, "How can one be Awakened?"


    "You have to be lucky enough," Martin replied. "There''s no pattern to the birth of an Awakened. Sometimes, they awaken after a good night''s sleep, and sometimes it happens suddenly after a major stimulus. I can''t advise you since I am not an Awakened myself."


    Nonchntly, Jonathan asked, "Who in the investigation department is Awakened? Are there many?"


    Maintaining an appropriate level of curiosity and asking relevant questions was his strategy. Although Martin might not answer some questions, his behavior wouldn''t arouse suspicion. Curiosity is human nature, and asking for gossip from a superior is a logical move.


    As expected, Martin didn''t answer. He just said, "That''s ssified information. You''ll find out when you''re promoted to captain."


    Jonathanughed, "Then I''ll work hard to be your equal, Captain."


    At lunchtime, Jonathan deliberately avoided all red and green food in the employee cafeteria to prevent unpleasant associations that might ruin his appetite. But even so, he still ate very little, mechanically chewing and swallowing, forcing himself to consume the food. He needed enough energy to support his training in the afternoon.


    Training time went by surprisingly fast. After basic hand-to-handbat and shooting training, Jonathan started running with a heavy load. He was panting heavily, carrying dozens of kilograms of weight, his clothes drenched in sweat. He just wanted to copse on the ground and roll his eyes.


    The coach by the training field, checking his watch in astonishment, said, "Great willpower! You''ve achieved such good results on your first test! You finished the five-kilometer run pretty quickly! How about trying eight kilometers? Hey, don''t look at me like I''m the devil. What''s wrong with trying to break your limits? You''ll never know where your limits are if you don''t push yourself!"


    Jonathan panted, "I... let''s talk about it tomorrow. I have a meeting with the field team in half an hour."


    The coach reluctantly let Jonathan go. For neers joining the investigation department, dedicated personnel would train them. Today was the first official training day, and Jonathan felt exhausted to the point of coughing up blood.


    He used to dread running the most. Those days seemed like a distant memory now, as Jonathan achieved self-improvement and began training under the pressure of survival.


    After resting on the ground for three minutes, Jonathan got up and staggered back to the elevator, nning to return to the resting room for a shower. He was drenched in sweat, and attending a meeting like this wouldn''t be appropriate.


    He took a ten-minute shower and was d his short hair was easy to dry. After drying his hair, he put on his uniform and rushed to the meeting room by elevator.


    The conference room was almost full when Jonathan arrived. He quickly spotted Robert waving at him, so he walked over and sat in the empty seat beside him.


    About forty to fifty members of various teams were in the room. Field teams usually consisted of five to seven members, each with a specific role. Teams typically carried out missions, and for more challenging tasks, multiple teams would coborate.


    "Wow, so many people," Jonathan said, ncing around the room.


    Martin, the team leader, sat in the front row, far from them.


    "It''s a big meeting today. All teams are present," Robert said.


    Sitting before them, Simon turned around and asked Jonathan, "Did you finish your orientation training?"


    "Yes... it left me a deep impression," Jonathan replied with aplicated expression. "I couldn''t even enjoy lunch."


    Luke, who had just been discharged from the hospital, said, "That''s normal. Just get used to it. You might encounter even more disgusting scenes when we''re out on missions."


    "I suppose so," Jonathan sighed.


    After exchanging a few pleasantries, they all fell silent as the meeting was about to begin.


    Field Team Leader Grobelnar stepped up the podium, her sharp gaze sweeping over everyone. Cutting straight to the point without formalities, she said, "Recently, the port gangs have been causing frequent riots, resulting in numerous casualties for us. The port coastal security team has suffered significant losses, and we need to adjust the areas covered by the field patrol teams."


    Those who made it into the field teams were individuals with exceptionalbat skills. Field teams faced the most danger and thus had the highest casualty rates. However, part of the casualties of the port coastal security team might be attributed to Fox, who had killed two members of Team Six during his investigation.


    "Team Seven," Grobelnar''s gaze fell on Martin. "Starting tomorrow, you''ll be assigned to the harbor area in the bay district. You''ll join Teams Five and Six from the original coastal security team to carry out coastal patrol tasks."


    Martin stood up and saluted, "Yes, sir."


    Jonathan thought to himself, without showing any emotion, that it was quite a coincidence �C just like as he was getting sleepy, someone was handing him a pillow.

 Chapter 24: "It was a burning desire for revenge"

    <h4>Chapter 24: "It was a burning desire for revenge"</h4>


    Jonathan garnered little valuable intelligence at this meeting, as the discourse primarily revolved around work assignments. His most significant gain was meeting all field team members and finally connecting their visages to the information within their profiles.


    The organization''s dossier did not epass all field team members; some individuals merely had a brief description and a name.


    Following the meeting, the squads gradually dispersed from the conference room.


    Robert asked Jonathan, "How about a meal together after work?"


    "A meal?" Jonathan was caught off guard.


    It was customary to share a meal as a bonding experience when new colleagues joined, but Jonathan had no intention of confiding in his second-world peers. His interactions were limited to chatting and joking, never entertaining the thought of dining together.


    For apetent undercover agent, interpersonal skills are essential.


    Jonathan once watched a spy film where the female agent remarked, "Do you know why I seed? Because I give genuine emotions real feelings. They sense my sincerity, and that''s why they trust me."


    Trust and rapport require cultivation, and investing time and energy in building rtionships earns the trust of others. The dinner invitation served as a reminder for Jonathan not to appear too distant from his teammates.


    "Everyone''s going, and the team leader is treating," Robert said.


    Luke approached Jonathan''s other side, adding, "We''re getting reassigned to the harbor soon, and we may not have this leisure time again. We should make the most of ourst day and unwind."


    "Tomorrow''s a patrol mission, so let''s not drink," Simon suggested, "Just a meal together should do."


    "Someone''s treating? Well, I''m definitely in," Jonathan replied after a brief consideration.


    Martin wove through the crowd to join his teammates, "We''re off in ten minutes. Head back to the locker room, change into regr clothes, and meet on the first floor."


    "Got it," Robert responded with a whistle.


    "Oh, Jonathan, what would you like to eat? I''ll make a reservation," Martin asked with a smile.


    Jonathan pondered, "Meat. As long as it''s Meat, I''m good."


    The revulsion caused by the Xenobiotics creature had subsided, and after an afternoon of extensive training, his body craved energy, his stomach sour with hunger.


    "Let''s go for a barbecue then," Martin suggested, "There''s a great ce in the city center."


    Everyone headed to the locker room to change. While Jonathan took a quick restroom break, he checked his messages on his bracelet. There were no new messages from Red, but Fox still had sent him a barrage of texts.


    "Nothing exposed, right?"


    "I can''t tell if you were caught and can''t reply, or you''re just too busy... You should be okay, right? If you were caught, Red would tell me."


    "I went to headquarters for updated gear, grabbed some weapons, and even brought you a professional disguise mask."


    "I''m so busy today, didn''t have time to eat."


    "Are you heading back to the safe house tonight or going home?"


    Jonathan replied coldly over the text, "Not exposed, still alive, going home tonight, you''ll have to figure out dinner yourself."


    Fox:"..."


    Jonathan changed into his clothes and took the elevator to the first floor, where Robert, Luke, and Simon were waiting for him.


    "The captain took the car... he''s here!" Robert pointed to the entrance hall doors.


    A shy azure sports car pulled up in front of the investigation building, its sleek lines reminiscent of a predatory shark. The car window rolled down to reveal Martin seated inside.


    He had changed into a casual ck T-shirt, and his demeanor was entirely different from when he wore his uniform.


    "Ah... this," Jonathan began, at a loss for words.


    "Let me say it for you," Luke quipped, raising an eyebrow. "This car is too shy, unlike the captain''s usual style. Riding in, it feels like a rich young master cruising the streets with his rowdy friends."


    "Don''t put it that way," Robert said with a grin, opening the car door for Jonathan. "After all, the captain is a rich young master."


    Honest Simon added, "But we''re not his rowdy friends."


    Martin: "I can hear you guys saying what, okay."


    Jonathan settled into the car seat, which automatically adjusted to his posture. The car had a pleasant scent of mild perfume, not overwhelming at all.


    "This car is so cool and shy," Jonathanmented. "I just didn''t expect the captain to have this kind of taste."


    "My family bought the car; it''s not to my taste," Martin rified with a hint of resignation.


    The car door closed, and the sports car adjusted its direction ording to the navigation system toward its destination. The car stereo yed a delicate piano piece.


    Only police vehicles had the authority to fly within the city limits; private vehicles were restricted to ground travel. However, most high-end sports cars had both ground and air driving modes, a feature designed for the wealthy to race in suburban tracks.


    The navigation chose a less congested route, and they reached the restaurant in just twenty minutes.


    The projected sign read, "Foreigner''s Barbecue Bar."


    "Foreigner?" Jonathan stared at the sign, puzzled.


    In the Second World, global unification had taken ce, and although there was high autonomy in different regions, there was only one government - the Federal Government. In theory, everyone had the same nationality and no "foreigners."


    "The owner of this BBQ joint is an immigrant from the pr regions who settled in ck Sea City. Their cuisine is rustic and Meat-fresh, so you should like it," Martin parked the car.


    A blonde, blue-eyed waiter greeted them with a smile. "Your reserved room is on the third floor. Please follow me ."


    The waiter turned to a colleague and rattled off a string of iprehensible words to Jonathan. Why did it sound so much like Italian?


    "Every time I hear them speak theirnguage, I feel like their mouths are full of springs," Robert muttered.


    The rest of the team nodded in agreement.


    This was a multicultural and multilingual society, with different regions having different lingua francas. Jonathan believed the Second World was essentially a parallel dimension to the First World. In his region, the officialnguage was English. The fair-haired, blue-eyed waiter before him seemed to speak what sounded like Italian. Other regions probably corresponded tonguages like German, French, and the like.


    "Red Soil" was a global game with many participants. During its initial beta testing, the forum was filled with posts in English and from yers of other nationalities. Jonathan had used a trantor to decipher those posts.


    The oveppingnguages between the First and Second Worlds ensured yers who crossed over didn''t have to worry aboutmunicating with the natives.


    The decoration of this BBQ joint was simple and minimalistic, with no extra furnishings or decorations. Upon entering the room, the air was filled with the rich aroma of spices and a hint of charcoal.


    A chef with a bushy brown beard pushed a trolley and ced a whole roastedmb on the table. Onions, potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower surrounded the roastedmb.


    With a noticeable ent in his broken English, the chef said, "Pure natural spices and genuine wood charcoal, not the synthetic kind. Industrial-made vors and charcoal can''t produce such a perfect roastmb!"


    There were several bottles of chilled wine in the ice bucket on the cart, and the chef was about to use a bottle opener to open them when Martin stopped him. "we don''t need wine," he said.


    "It''s free , The winees with the roastedmb," the chef tried to persuade them earnestly. "Eating BBQ without drinking wine is soulless! You should eat Meat and drink wine heartily together!"


    Martin refused again, and the chef could only regretfully put down the bottle opener.


    Most people nowadays eat synthetic Meat, and real Meat costs three times more than synthetic Meat. This roastedmb was exorbitant, but Martin could afford such an expensive sports car. The cost of this meal might just be a drop in the bucket for him.


    Martin poured juice for everyone and raised his ss, "The most celebratory event today is that our original four-member Squad Seven has weed its fifth member, our newrade-in-arms, apanion worthy of our trust."


    "Let''s work together, John!" Robert raised his ss.


    "Each of us is dependable. As teammates, we have a long journey ahead to bond andmunicate effectively," Luke said with a smile, raising his ss. "Wee, Jonathan."


    Finally, Simon raised his ss. "If there''s anything you don''t understand, you can ask me, and I''ll teach you. Wee to our team, Jonathan."


    Jonathan clinked sses with each of them, wearing a sincere expression. "Thank you, everyone! I promise to do my utmost to be a reliable and good teammate."


    ...


    After a hearty meal, half of the roastedmb remained. Each of them took a portion to go.


    Jonathan declined Martin''s offer to drive him home, choosing to wander the city streets alone, holding his portion ofmb.


    The streets bustled with people, neon lights casting their glow upon him. Advertisements shifted and changed around him, but he didn''t watch them with curious eyes unlike his first time.


    Jonathan didn''t want to go home. Going home meant facing Fox, discussing with Red the action n after his transfer to the coastal security team, and worrying about the mole. These things left him exhausted.


    It was only the fourth day since he''d crossed over. Just the fourth day.


    On the first day, Jonathan was healing in the recuperation chamber and encountered two robbers on his way home at night. That was the first time he killed someone.


    On the second day, Jonathan studied the files to learn about this world''s knowledge, and he had a rtively peaceful day.


    On the third day, he received a field assignment and killed a yer named Sean during the mission. That night, he met with members of the Mechanical Dawn organization and was attacked by a traitor on his way home, nearly losing his life.


    Today was the fourth day, and Jonathan had sessfully passed the evaluations of the various team leaders in the investigation department and was officially inducted.


    As Jonathan recalled all the events that had transpired over the past few days, he couldn''t help but curse, "What the hell is this life!"


    He felt the urge to give God the middle finger.


    Life had never been so fulfilling for Jonathan. In just a few days, he had transformed into a master of time management. By day, he worked for the Investigation Department; by night, he served the Mechanical Dawn. Between these two jobs, he seized every moment to enrich himself with knowledge...


    Now, on the evening of the fourth day, Jonathan had no desire to return home. He strolled the streets, asionally ncing at his bracelet for any new notifications, wondering what "surprises" the night might still hold for him.


    Despite the uncertainty of what lies ahead, Jonathan was emotionallyposed. No matter the shocks or scares, he maintained hisposure. Anyone who faced as many life-threatening situations in just four days would undoubtedly undergo a profound shift in mindset.


    It''s like going into a haunted house for the first time - one would be easily scared, but after several visits, the fear dissipates and sometimes even elicits augh at the sight of the ghosts.


    Though tonight''s ''surprises '' had yet to appear, Jonathan had a feeling that the evening wouldn''t pass so quietly.


    And indeed, it didn''t.


    Red''s message came through: "We''ve located the traitor, just as you suspected, it''s snake python."


    "Do you have a n?" Jonathan asked, his tone icy.


    Red replies, "Kill the snake python, get his blood, and bring it to me. You know about my super ability; with his blood, he will have no secrets in front of me. I need to know who nted him in our organization."


    Is Red''s super ability rted to memory reading? And the medium is blood?


    "Alright." Jonathan pauses. "What about Rose?"


    "She''s trustworthy," Red stated. "She''ll assist you. I have full confidence in her abilities."


    "Understood," Jonathan replied.


    "We are running out of time, Richguy," Red says. "Our port detonation mission can''t afford the slightest error. It''s best to act within the next two days and eliminate the threat. My and the bartender''s super abilities are unsuitable forbat, and we can provide remote support. If you need reinforcements, call the headquarters... With your personality, I think you would prefer to take matters into your own hands and handle the traitor, right?"


    Jonathan hangs up themunication, his mind racing. The traitor is indeed the snake python, just as his intuition had suggested..


    He paused, lost in thought amidst the bustling traffic lights at the intersection, contemting the best approach to discreetly and effectively kill the snake python.


    He deduced calmly, methodically plotting the assassination.


    n one: lure Snake Python under the guise of a mission, then have Fox and Rose ambush and eliminate him.


    n two: Have Rose report Snake Python''s whereabouts and ambush him en route.


    Both strategies had their merits, but one thing was certain: they had only one shot. If Snake Python sensed anything amiss, the mission would fail. Once aware that his cover was blown, Snake Python wouldn''t give them another opportunity.


    "Do you have a gun in the equipment you brought back?" Jonathan messages Fox.


    "Yes, there are handguns and some micro-explosives," Fox replies immediately. "I only brought a small box of bullets, though. I couldn''t carry more."


    "Not enough. Go to the port''s armory and get a sniper rifle. Look for the K80 model; if they don''t have it, grab another model," Jonathan instructs. "Bring more bullets."


    "Okay... looks like I have to make multiple trips. One trip won''t be enough," Foxins.


    Jonathan thinks momentarily and motivates Fox: "I brought some roastedmb for you."


    "I''m heading to the armory right now!" Fox''s response speed increases.


    The green light at the intersection turns on, and Jonathan crosses the street with the crowd, heading to the tram stop to wait for his ride. During the wait, Jonathan calctes every possibility, striving to make this assassination n foolproof.


    It wasn''t Red''s directive, nor the fear of his undercover identity being exposed, that drove him to meticulously assassination n Snake Python''s demise.


    It was a burning desire for revenge.


    Jonathan cannot tolerate someone who wants to kill him to be alive and well. This is the first time he has genuinely wished for someone''s death.

 Chapter 25: "We’ve cultivated a new species of Xenobiotics creature"

    <h4>Chapter 25: "We''ve cultivated a new species of Xenobiotics creature"</h4>


    The snake python cautiously through the streets, scanning his surroundings with equipment every few minutes to confirm if anyone is following him.


    The harbor area of ck Sea City is dim and quiet at night, with only a few vivacious ces, such as bars, underground fighting arenas, and casinos. The gangs control this territory, and even the Investigation Department must act cautiously here. In such a ce, bloody incidents often ur.


    Poor and backward areas are most likely to breed crime, and darkness and chaos are the best protection for those who lurk here.


    Snake Python slipped into a small casino where patrons shouted around gambling tables, colorful cards flying everywhere, and gamblers with bloodshot eyes pushing stacks of chips forward. Snake Python had a penchant for gambling, but he wasn''t here to y today. He''s here to trade with his informant and get his hands on the god blood that belongs to him.


    He quietly walks up to the second floor and opens the door to room 208. The room is dimly lit, and a person wearing a mask sits on a luxurious vintage-style chair.


    "You''re three minuteste," the informant says coldly.


    The snake python doesn''t take off his mask or respond immediately. Instead, he activates his equipment to scan the room, afraid listening devices might be hidden here.


    The informant watches the snake python''s cautious movements and waits for him to exin.


    "That woman, Rose, is too annoying. She likes to give orders, and I can only listen to her because she''s my superior," the snake python turns off the scanner. "Quick, give me the god''s blood. That woman has gone to do some beauty treatments. I finally got away from her control, but I still have to go back and meet herter."


    "So eager?" The informant chuckled.


    "We had an agreement. I give you intel, and in return, you arrange a new identity for me to leave ck Sea City and a bottle of god blood," the snake python says coldly. "This is what I deserve. I''ve taken such a huge risk and should receive an equal value in return. Are you nning to break the contract?"


    "We always keep our promises ." The informant takes a test tube filled with dark red liquid from his pocket. "This is your reward."


    Snake Python''s gaze was fixed intently on the test tube. He stepped forward, reaching out to take it, but the informant subtly shifted his hand, evading Snake Python''s grasp. His eyes narrowed, and his voice deepened, "What are you ying at? We had an agreement. You owe me for the God''s Blood."


    "Don''t be so tense. As I said, we''ll honor our promise," the informant replied with a cating smile. "There''s just a small matter that requires you to do."


    "Hah," Snake Python scoffed coldly, "How did you negotiate with mest time? Have you forgotten in just a few hours? You said I didn''t need to work for you. Just focus on passing on information."


    The informant apologized insincerely, "I''m sorry, this is a direct order from my superiors. I don''t have the authority to refuse on your behalf."


    "Then may I ask, do I have the right to refuse?"


    "You have," the informant said, "but if you refuse, I cannot provide the god''s blood."


    Veins bulged at Snake Python''s temples as he struggled to contain his anger. "So, I''m just a tool for you, right? What do you take me for, an idiot?"


    "Of course not," the informant replied earnestly. "You''re a brilliant undercover agent. How could you be an idiot?"


    Snake Python cursed under his breath. His muscr chest heaved with suppressed rage. "I feel like a wild boar in the forest, lured by bait on a path set by hunters. I follow the trail, but at the end, instead of delicious food, there''s a trap waiting for me."


    "We are not hunters; we have no desire to capture you. We are your coborators, your business partners," the informant said calmly. "Consider this a negotiation. We are bargaining. You have the right to refuse, but you will lose certain benefits. You can ept, but doing so will entail a certain investment risk."


    "Is there any point in continuing the deal when my supposed coborators and partners try to tear the contract apart?"


    "No, that''s not how it works," the informant countered. "We are still negotiating and haven''t signed a formal contract. Introducing new conditions during negotiations is perfectly normal, isn''t it?"


    Snake Python chuckled, clearly irritated. "I''ve already fallen into your trap, so let''s not pretend this is a business cooperation. Ever heard of an investment failing at the cost of one''s life?"


    "Don''t be too hasty to refuse," the informant advised. "What we need you to do this time is really a small matter with low risks. It could benefit you if it seeds. You might as well hear us out before making a decision."


    "Go ahead," the snake python scrutinized the informant. He didn''t refuse because he had already taken an enormous risk. If he backed out now, it would render his previous risk meaningless. This made him unwilling to give up. The god''s blood was indeed a great lure, tempting him step by step forward.


    "We''ve cultivated a new species of Xenobiotics creature," the informant said, producing a slender ss tube. At first nce, the tube appeared empty. However, when he twisted it open and shined a miniature shlight, its contents became immediately visible: a tiny red worm, as thin as a hair, barely perceptible as it squirmed within the tube.


    "red threadworms," the informant said, "smaller in size than the Red Demon Spiders we gave you before and less likely to be noticed. A person parasitized by a Red Demon Spider will die within an hour, while the red threadworms have a longer growth cycle. After a long development period, it can drill into the host''s brain and slowly control the host''s body... even their thoughts."


    The snake python''s eyebrows twitched slightly, "You people are a bunch of lunatics."


    The Red Demon Spiders was the Xenobiotics creature the snake python used to control assassins. It was about the size of a peanut in itsrval stage, and it only took one minute to drill into the host''s brain and control the host after parasitizing it. The informant had given him the Red Demon Spiders before, and now he was giving him a new Xenobiotics creature.


    "Are you using me as a means to find test subjects?" Snake Python asked in a subdued tone. "First, it was the Red Demon Spiders, and now the Red Threadworms. You''re not only giving me these hazardous juvenile Xenobiotics creatures toplete tasks but also to gather feedback data, aren''t you?"


    "They''re stable new breeds," the informant assured Snake Python. "The only uncertainty we have is whether they can effectively take control of an Awakened individual''s mind."


    The snake python has an ominous premonition, "Do you intend to make me..."


    "The rose by your side, who has spent considerable time with you and trusts you more, is a suitable candidate for the Red Threadworms parasitized. The informant said. "ce them on her skin, and they''ll burrow in within two seconds. It''ll feel like a mosquito bite."


    "Don''t you find this woman too annoying, always trying to control you?" he continued, "Here''s your chance. Control her with these Xenobiotics creatures, and she won''t be able to interfere with you anymore. Your risk of exposure will be significantly reduced."


    The snake python was Persuaded. His greatest fear since going undercover had been the rose by his side, who was too close forfort. He had been walking on thin ice around her, exhausted beyond measure. He wouldn''t have to be as cautious if the Red Threadworms could parasitize her.


    "I can try... but I can''t guarantee sess," the snake python said. "I will do my best toplete this task, but you must give me the god''s blood first."


    The informant pondered for a moment, then nodded. He handed over a ss tube containing the nematode and a vial of god blood.


    The snake python reached out and took them, his eyes glinting with excitement. He pocketed the container with the nematode and scrutinized the vial of god blood for a while.


    "How about it? Afraid we''ve poisoned what''s inside?"


    "how would I be thought? You still need me to do things for you."


    The informant nodded in satisfaction. He paused for a moment. ''I have a few questions for you... What is Red''s super ability?''


    "I don''t know. Perhaps the rose knows, but she won''t say. I only know about the bartender, and I''ve already told you."


    "What is the range of the super ability radiation from crystals and meteors?"


    "Where can I find such detailed data? What do you expect that I go and directly ask them?"


    "What about Richguy''s super ability?"


    "No one''s ever disclosed what Richguy''s super abilities are. Richguy and Red are higher-ups, and we''re all just subordinates. Asking about your boss''s personal matters is a surefire way to get into trouble."


    "When are you nning to blow up the port?"


    "Before August 8th... Haven''t I already told you? Why are you asking again?"


    The informant replied calmly, "Nothing; I just wanted to make sure there were no changes to your mission n. If there are any changes, remember to inform me promptly."


    "I understand." The snake python nced at him suspiciously.


    As his rendezvous with Rose drew near, Snake Python turned and spoke, "I can tolerate thisst-minute additional asking, but only this once. I know I don''t have much leverage in negotiating with you. You have the resources; you hold the cards... but I, Snake Python, am a person of temper."


    The informant watched as Snake Python pushed the door open and left.


    The room fell into silence after his departure. The informant turned his head and raised his right hand. The air in one corner of the room rippled slightly, and a blurry shadow suddenly appeared in the corner.


    Snake Python had scanned the entire room three times with his scanner, yet hadpletely missed the presence of a third person lurking within!


    "Did the Snake Python lie?"


    The shadow shook its head.


    The informant chuckled, "He''s fairly honest, but s, he can''t change his gambling nature."


    The Snake Python was indeed cautious, but he had a gambling problem. This habit had, to some extent, affected his behavior. Even he doesn''t realize that he''s gambling, taking risks.... Perhaps he had discovered it, but he fantasized about winning big by risking small like a true gambler.


    When he sensed something was amiss, he didn''t think about cutting his losses in time but instead wanted to gamble even more to recover his costs and gain profits.


    ...


    Fox entered the living room with heavy steps, catching his breath before eximing, "I''ve brought more than enough ammunition!" He unzipped his bulging jacket, revealing boxes of ammunition-taped all over his torso.


    "Couldn''t you have brought a bag?" Jonathan gazed at Fox, speechless, as he diligently tore the tape away and removed the ammunition one by one.


    "I only realized I''d forgotten a bag when I arrived, and there were no backpacks or bags in the armory... Thankfully, there were medical adhesive tapes, so I just taped the bullets to myself," Fox exined, seemingly quite pleased with his own ingenuity.


    Jonathan silently acquiesced, reluctantly saying, "Well done... Be more careful next time."


    Eyeing the equipment scattered across the floor, he picked up a bulletproof vest and retreated to his room to change. This material for the bulletproof vest was not only lightweight but also durable. Donning it wouldn''t hinder one''s movements; it covered not just the torso but also the limbs.


    He couldn''t afford to repeat past mistakes. He might not always be lucky enough;st time, he had the metal skull, and he might not be so lucky this time. Wearing a bulletproof vest would increase his chances of survival, even when enemies targeted his torso.


    Back in the living room, Jonathan conducted a final equipment check: a K80 sniper rifle, a handgun, magazines, tactical knives, miniature bombs, an environmental scanner, amunicator, a locator, and night-vision goggles...


    "What''s this?" Jonathan inquired, pinching a button-sized ck object.


    "The headquarters has developed a new optical camouge projector. It''s still in the experimental phase, and I brought two back to try," Fox exined as he pressed the button. His entire body blended into the surroundings like a chameleon. However, the disguise wasn''t as effective when he moved.


    "Seems best suited for static camouge," Jonathan remarked.


    Tossing the button aside, Fox said, "I don''t need it. I can turn my body into the transparent water."


    Jonathan nced at the map on his bracelet, "It''s time for us to go."


    Hemunicated with Rose before nning the move. Once Rose and Snake Python rendezvous, she will use the pretext of gathering data to lead him toward the port. Along the essential route to the harbor, Jonathan would lie in wait, ready to kill him.


    Rose activated real-time tracking, allowing Jonathan to monitor her location and ascertain Snake Python''s whereabouts.


    Carrying a fully assembled rifle would be too conspicuous, so he slung a case containing the K80ponents over his back and fastened magazines, knives, and a handgun around his waist while Fox carried the misceneous items.


    Mask in ce and voice modtor attached, Jonathan pulled his hood down and leaped from the third-floor balcony. Alongside Fox, he moved through the veil of night toward the predetermined ambush location.

 Chapter 26: "I had intended to take it when I was ready..."

    <h4>Chapter 26: "I had intended to take it when I was ready..."</h4>


    Time was of the essence, and for some, every second counted.


    It was a still, clear night without rain or wind. External conditions can affect long-range sniping; a gust of wind or rainshower can throw off the shot. The weather tonight was ideal for a clean kill, which was Jonathan''s main reason for choosing this method.


    Back home to rendezvous with Fox, Red sent Jonathan a dossier on the squad for the bombing harbor mission. It contained detailed profiles of each member. Jonathan focused on the information for Rose and Snake Python, learning their super abilities. Now, he felt more or less prepared.


    22:27


    Fox was not at home upon Jonathan return, he going to the armory to procure equipment.


    22:28


    Jonathanmunicated with Rose, finalizing their nocturnal operation''s route and the predetermined sniping location.


    Rose activated the tracker and listening device on hermunicator to connect with Jonathan''s, allowing him to monitor her location in real-time. This ensured that Jonathan could hear what they talked about when she rendezvoused with Snake Python.


    22:41


    Jonathan contacted Red, requesting that he dispatch a covert team from headquarters to blockade the route lest an extreme scenario arise where the assassination attempt failed and Snake Python managed to escape.


    "Indeed, I had the same notion, "Red said. "I have faith in your sniping prowess, but we must have a contingency. I''ll remotelymand the auxiliary team. You focus solely on making the shot."


    22:50


    Fox returned with the equipment, and Jonathan inspected the weapons, donned his gear, and Fox finished the roastmb that Jonathan had brought home for him.


    23:00


    Jonathan and Fox departed their abode, heading for the prearranged sniping site.


    23:01


    Having concluded his transaction, Snake Python emerged from the casino and contacted Rose.


    "Boss, all done with your beauty treatments? Oh good, all finished up," he fawned over themunicator. "Hehe, I just finished myte-night snack too. I''ll head over to meet up with you now."


    "You didn''t sneak off to gamble, did you? You can gamble your heart out after the mission, not now."


    Snake Python quickly replied, "Of course not! I was just grabbing a bite to eat. You know I gotta eat to keep my strength up for the job, boss !"


    "You''d better not have."


    Rose hung up and immediately messaged Jonathan: "Deputy Commander, he''s on his way. We expect to rendezvous on Queens Boulevard in fifteen minutes, then head to Dock 5."


    "Copy that"


    23:16


    Rose and Snake Python met at the agreed-upon time.


    "Your newly done nails look lovely."


    "Spare me the ttery. Let''s go"


    23:17


    Jonathan and Fox reached the assassination site��an abandoned lighthouse at the old pier.


    In the days before ck Sea City''s port expansion, the lighthouse guided iing cargo ships and fishing boats to port. After the port''s extensive renovation, the pier was extended seaward, evolving into arge-scale dock, and the floating harbor was constructed.


    A taller and brighter lighthouse was erected on the floating harbor, and the smallndlocked lighthouse was abandoned.


    23:23


    Jonathan climbed to the top of the tower and emotionlessly assembled the K80 from the case on his back. Methodically, he loaded the bullets one by one, set up the tripod, and attached the silencer.


    He breathed on the scope and wiped it clean, ensuring it was sufficiently clear. Peering through, he panned the streets below, scanning for suspicious figures.


    Fox, bored, inquired, "They haven''t arrived yet. Who are you aiming at?"


    "Quiet, don''t make a sound."


    Fox fell silent.


    23:24


    Red''s voice emerged in Jonathan''s earpiece, "The auxiliary team is in position, and the street is sealed off. He''ll find it nigh impossible to run away."


    "Roger that."


    Jonathan took his eye off the scope and nced at the projection on his bracelet. On the projected map, the green dots representing his team formed a pocket around the street. Snake Python was like a wild boar; they had set a along the boar''s inevitable path. Once the boar appeared, the would tighten, ensuring the capture of their prey.


    23:26


    The listening device Rose carried transmitted the conversation to Jonathan''s earpiece.


    Snake Python: "Ate too much tonight, gotta take a dump."


    Rose: "Must you always be so bothersome?"


    Snake Python: "I can''t hold it in ..."


    Rose: "Hurry up! If you dy the mission, I will give you a piece of my mind!"


    Snake Python jogged into a public restroom.


    23:32


    Fox: "Why''s he choosing now of all times to take a crap... What''s taking so long? This wait is killing me."


    23:32


    Inside a restroom stall, Snake Python engaged in mental preparation and scenario simtion, holding the ss tube containing the red threadworms. He muttered to himself, "I''ll feign nonchnce, pat her shoulder, and surreptitiously deposit the worm. She''ll never suspect... No, that won''t do. We''ve never engaged in such intimate gestures before. The closest we''vee to physical contact is when she pped me... st it. The mere thought of it infuriates me! How dare she p me!"


    "Pretend to remove something from her hair and slip the worm onto her tresses? That seems rather contrived... Perhaps I couldg a few paces behind and stealthily ce the worm while she walks ahead... That might just work."


    Snake Python wanted to take a deep breath to calm himself but remembered he was in a restroom. The public restrooms in the harbor area had always been disgustingly filthy, and taking a deep breath here might cause him to retch.


    He pped his face to regain rity, then washed his face.


    He usually wore gloves, which prevented the red threadworms from easily burrowing in. When the time came, he would discreetly open the ss tube in his trouser pocket and silently ce the worm on Rose''s hair. Since haircks sensory nerves, the presence of the worm would go unnoticed. Once it burrowed in, Rose would no longer have constant control over him.


    Snake Python put the tube away,posed himself, and exited the restroom.


    Rose looked impatient. "We should''ve been at the target by now."


    "Then let''s hurry," Snake Python said nervously.


    Rose walked ahead, and Snake Pythongged behind, watching for an opening.


    23:34


    Red reported: "Targets moving again."


    "Copy,"


    Jonathan''s new mask had night vision capabilities, but he still brought backup night vision goggles. With the help of the night vision mode and the scope, nothing on the dock street could escape his watchful eyes.


    The dock was eerily quiet tonight. Due to a series of explosions, Dock No. 5 temporarily ceased operations. During the day, workers and construction equipment woulde and go, repairing the dock. But at night, the ce was deserted.


    The lighthouse had lost its brilliance, standing as a silent sentinel on the dock. From the topmost window, the dark barrel of a gun protruded. Under the cover of night, no one noticed someone hidden within.


    23:36


    Snake Python, making sure Rose in front of him had no intention of looking back, quietly unscrewed the ss tube with two fingers. He softened his footsteps and quickly took two steps to catch up with Rose, swiftly cing the worm on her head.


    However, he underestimated Rose.


    She sensed the flow of the wind and reflexively dodged, her right hand subconsciously reaching for her head.


    If Rose hadn''t known of Snake Python''s betrayal, her reaction wouldn''t have been so swift. But since she knew he was a traitor, she had be wary of him and no longer trusted him as she had before, no longer being unguarded against his subtle movements.


    Rose turned to face Snake Python, simultaneously stepping back to create distance between them. Her expression and demeanorpletely changed, bing cold and solemn.


    Suddenly, Rose felt an itch on her scalp as a tiny red threadworm burrowed into her flesh, its tail vanishing from sight.


    Her eyes shed, and she reached to pluck it out, but the threadworm was too fast. By the time her hand made contact, it hadpletely disappeared into her.


    With no hesitation, the battle-hardened Rose drew the dagger from her waist with her left hand and, in one swift motion, sliced off her right hand.


    Blood spurted out with a swoosh, staining the ground red as her delicate, manicured, severed hand fell to the floor.


    "Snake Python..." Rose''s eyes were filled with murderous intent.


    Snake Python took a step back, his mind buzzing.


    "Traitor!" Rose sneered coldly. "Trying to scheme against me? You''re not nearly skilled enough. You destroy my manicure... I''ll ughter you!"


    At this moment, there was no need for pretense. Snake Python had moved against her, and she had discovered his actions. She knew he was a traitor, and he likewise realized Rose was on guard against him.


    The illusion of peace between them was shattered, and once that facade was broken, all that was left was to confront one another.


    Rose''s left hand tightly gripped the dagger, which emitted ava-like orange-red glow. The temperature of the de rose, causing the air around it to warp slightly. She held the heated de against the stump of her right wrist, and with a sizzling sound, smoke rose as she cauterized her wound.


    Snake Python, realizing he had been exposed, thought of fleeing at once.


    Rose knew he was a traitor! When did she find out?!


    Did she report his betrayal to Red or the headquarters? Were there people... waiting to ambush him?


    Fear gripped Snake Python''s mind as he activated his super ability. A thinyer of blood-red me-like material ignited on his body, his muscles swelling to nearly twice their size. He turned and sprinted away, his steps frantic.


    Rose tried to reach for her belt but found nothing. Being right-handed, she was not used to being without her right hand and had no other hand to wield a weapon.


    "Heh," Rose''s face was pale, her expression mocking.


    She watched Snake Python''s retreating figure, dropped the glowing red dagger, and, with her left hand, pulled a thin, long whip from her waist. The whip was made of sturdy metal wires, suitable for conducting heat.


    Sheshed the whip, wrapping it around Snake Python''s legs, tripping him and causing him to fall to the ground. The strong metal whip was too much for even a muscle-bound man like Snake Python to break free from.


    "Deputy Commander, an unexpected situation. I''ve lost my right hand," Rose''s forehead was covered in a cold sweat from the pain. She endured the agony and spoke quickly, "Snake Python tried to attack me. The n has deviated. He hasn''t entered the shooting range or the encirclement yet..."


    "Get it. Give me three minutes," Jonathan said.


    "Fine. I can hold on for three minutes," Rose replied.


    Jonathan hesitantly said, "Red, have the auxiliary squad reposition."


    Red responded, "Already doing it. Snake Python, that dumb pig, really knows how to cause trouble."


    Jonathan grabbed Fox''s hand, climbed out of the lighthouse window, and rappelled down to the ground with the help of a water rope. He ran at breakneck speed.


    Jonathan sensed something was wrong through the monitoring equipment. He thought for less than a second before abandoning long-range sniping and engaging in closebat pursuit.


    The K80 was exceedingly heavy. Running with it was akin to carrying a weight, consuming tremendous stamina.


    Rose held the whip, and from the handle to the whip, it slowly turned the color of a branding iron, an orange-red hue. The color was simr to molten steel and newly formed steel pipes in a steel mill, indicating that the metal''s temperature had reached its extreme.


    Snake Python let out a miserable scream as his legs, bound by the whip, sizzled and smoked. He endured the pain and turned to pull on the whip, but even with his super ability activated, he couldn''t budge the high-tech, high-strength material. He could only try to untangle the whip, his hands and legs scalded to the point of being bloody and mangled.


    As Jonathan ran, he listened to the situation on Rose''s end through the earpiece. Rose was injured, which greatly affected herbat capabilities.


    Rose was a ss B Awakened, with the super ability called "zing de." She could superheat metal to extreme temperatures, making her de and iron whip slice through anything as easily as a hot knife through butter.


    Snake Python''s super ability was "Blood Burn," which allowed him to gain increasedbat power by burning his blood. It was an ability that could harm the enemy at the cost of his health. Though it was only a ss C ability, it could rival a ss B awakened individual during short-term bursts. His bulging muscles were incredibly strong. Tests showed that bullets fired from ordinary handguns would get stuck in his powerful muscles, causing no substantial harm.


    Only a gun like the K80 could prate his flesh and cause real damage.


    As Jonathan ran, he saw two motorcycle punks gathered on the side of the street. He stopped, took a turn, and ran over to knock them out with a single punch each.


    "Can you ride a motorcycle?" Jonathan asked. "You ride, and I''ll aim. Keep it steady."


    "I can," Fox replied, straddling the motorcycle and gripping the handlebars.


    Jonathan adjusted his posture, sitting behind him. With a twist of the throttle, the Fox motorcycle roared to life. They shot off like an arrow released from its bow.


    "Damn bitch!" Snake Python, his eyes red with rage, twisted around and lunged back at Rose, determined to fight her.


    Rose didn''t engage Snake Python head-on. She couldn''t match his strength, especially wounded. Instead, she kept her distance, using her whip to evade andsh him.


    Like a spinning top, she avoided his charges, snapping the whip to leave fiery welts across his body. Time and again, Snake Python couldn''t even graze the hem of her dress.


    He tried to draw his gun, but the moment it touched his hand, Rose''s whip knocked the weapon away.


    Snake Python wanted to flee, but whenever he turned to run, the flexible whip would wrap around his limbs, forcing him back into the fight. Once, it nearly caught his neck.


    While in the'' Blood Burn ''state, Snake Python wasn''t critically injured, but the searing whip still hurt like hell. His clothes were charred ck, and he reeked of cooked meat.


    As Rose''s whip came at him in a desperate move, he reached out and grabbed the scorching iron, trying to pull her closer to kill her off, much like a tug-of-war.


    Just then, Snake Python faintly heard the roar of a motorcycle. Along with it came the sound of bullets being fired from a silenced gun.


    "Thud."


    A bloody hole appeared in his chest. The hand holding the whip loosened, and the fiery blood burning within him seemed to stall.


    23:39


    Jonathan and Fox arrived at the battlefield!


    Fox drove the motorcycle in a straight line, allowing Jonathan to maintain a stable shooting position.


    Jonathan pulled the trigger again, and the silencer emitted a faint sound. Bullets fired continuously, each one hitting Snake Python, the powerful impact causing his body to tremble.


    Ten bullets rained down in session. Fox''s water rope wrapped around Jonathan, and with a roll, they both jumped off the motorcycle.


    The moving motorcycle, driven by inertia, crashed into Snake Python with a loud bang, turning into a fireball.


    Snake Python''s sturdy body fell heavily, engulfed by the mes, and hey motionless.


    "Deputy Commander," Rose gave Jonathan a slight smile. Only now did she have a moment to retrieve a healing potion from her belt and inject herself.


    "Mission aplished! Though it was a bit noisy," Fox remarked casually.


    Jonathan walked towards Rose, but at that moment, a sharp pain throbbed at his temple. He looked towards the zing motorcycle beneath which Snake Python''s bodyy.


    The charred tip of Snake Python''s foot twitched. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and he lifted the motorcycle, hurling it at Jonathan.


    "I had intended to take it when I was ready..." Snake Python spat out the vial containing God''s Blood and stood up from the fire, his eyes red as if stained with blood.

 Chapter 27: "You... you really hate him"

    <h4>Chapter 27: "You... you really hate him"</h4>


    The Snake Python''sceration mended with an unnaturally expeditious pace; the ghastly welts on his back and limbs ceased their blood flow as charred epidermis sloughed away and diminutive grantions writhed, revealing ayer of rejuvenated flesh.


    As god blood permeated his skin, it began to transfigure his scarred and battered form. The highly refined and filtered god blood coursed through his limbs and extremities, endowing him with unparalleled vigor and an unprecedented exhrating experience.


    The Snake Python''s strength recovered and soared to new heights, reigniting the sanguine mes upon its body, more fervent than before.


    Yet, the first act upon gaining this newfound power was not to retaliate against Jonathan and others.


    The Snake Python hurled a motorbike towards Jonathan to hinder his movements, then promptly wheeled about and fled. His robust form erupted with a speed more terrifying than that of the world sprint champion, vanishing nearly twenty meters in the blink of an eye.


    Only a fool wouldn''t run!


    The Snake Python was well-acquainted with the Mechanical Dawn; Rose knew of his betrayal, and then Richguy and Fox came, which implied the entire organization was aware of his betrayal. They would send people to hunt him down; the core members of Mechanical Dawn had already arrived, and perhaps auxiliary squadsy in ambush nearby.


    It was imperative to flee, lest he fell into the encirclement of the hunters.


    In this situation, eliminating merely one or two would avail him naught, for the Snake Python could not kill everyone aware of his betrayal.


    He would be caught in an endless cycle of pursuit, and theter he fled, the greater the chance he''d be executed on the spot.


    Fox unfurled a water curtain to deflect the iing motorbike, momentarily unable to prevent the Snake Python''s escape.


    As Jonathan was about to retrieve a magazine from his belt to reload his K80, the wily Snake Python dashed into a nearby building for cover, leaving Jonathan unable to pinpoint his location.


    He abandoned the K80 and pulled a submachine gun from his lower back. The submachine guncked the prating power of the K80, but it made up for it with its rapid-fire andrger magazine.


    Jonathan was uncertain if this gun could harm the Snake Python substantially. After ingesting an unknown elixir, his blood-burning ability appeared to have intensified; its muscles bulged and swelled as if on the verge of bursting, surpassing even the most formidable of world bodybuilders.


    As Snake Python made his desperate escape, he burst into a shuttered small restaurant on the side of the road. Using his body to break through the wall, he tore open the natural gas pipe hidden within. With a clear mind, he activated the restaurant''s ignition switch.


    Amidst the deafening roar, the gas exploded, and raging mes masked the Snake Python''s figure. Relying on the Flesh Regeneration ability granted by the god blood, he withstood the explosive impact and scorching heat to traverse the store, escaping through a hole it punched in the wall to the street beyond.


    Jonathan tossed out amand, "Rose, stay here." Without hesitation, he and Fox pursued the Snake Python along his escape route.


    The explosion left the bistro in disarray, with a fallen beam narrowly missing Jonathan, who dodged just in time. Waves surged, and both Jonathan and Fox crossed the sea of the fire unscathed, but the messy bricks, tables, and chairs dyed them by two seconds.


    Every second was precious, as each second allowed the Snake Python to widen the gap between them.


    Jonathan activated his mask''s infrared thermal imaging mode, tracking the Snake Python''s trail. His body temperature rose continuously in its blood-burning state, far exceeding that of ordinary people; he appeared as a dazzling red fireball in the infrared view.


    Still running, the Snake Python charged into an open game house. The card-ying patrons were sent sprawling as tables overturned and cards scattered across the floor while onlookers screamed at the sight of the blood-me-enveloped man.


    With a sinister countenance, the Snake Python ignored the chaos, pushing through the crowd and shattering another wall. A sudden escape idea shot him---- diving into the sea!


    Swimming away in the ocean, Fox''s super water-controlling abilities would be insufficient to cover such a vast area. The seawater would cool his body, rendering him undetectable by thermal imaging devices.


    Blessed with a vast lung capacity, the Snake Python could hold his breath for nearly ten minutes underwater, stealthily swimming to safety before emerging ashore and evading Mechanical Dawn''s pursuit.


    God''s blood was indeed potent, but it could notpensate for the gap in ability level. God''s blood required time to be absorbed and transformed, eventually granting greater enhancements to both the body and super ability. Merely a C-rank, the Snake Python, having just ingested god blood, dared not confront the nearly A-rank Fox or the enigmatic Richguy head-on.


    Jonathan and Fox charged into the game house, where the sight of Jonathan''spact submachine gun sent the patrons scrambling aside, clearing a path for the duo.


    The distance between them grew wider; the Snake Python''s blood-burn ability after consuming the elixir had boosted its speed and strength.


    Frustrated, Fox eximed, "He''s too far away! My water can''t reach that distance!"


    "Red, where is the nearest squad?" Jonathan inquired, with no time to consult his wrist-mounted map.


    "Five hundred meters away!" Red''s voice was somber.


    "Is there any surveince nearby?" Jonathan inquired further.


    "None on this stretch," Red answered promptly.


    In a matter of moments, Jonathan and the Snake Python had widened their distance to thirty meters. As the Snake Python sprinted, he evaded possible iing bullets, for although his skin was coarse and his flesh thick, he still feared pain.


    Seizing the opportunity, Jonathan aimed for a brief gap before the Snake Python took cover. He fired his submachine gun at the foe''s feet.


    "Ah!" The bullet struck the Snake Python.


    The forceful impact and pain of the wound momentarily slowed him.


    Without stopping, Jonathan pulled a miniature bomb from his belt, tugging the pin free with his teeth. Instead of throwing it immediately, he counted silently for a second, then hurled it.


    The bomb traced a parab, flying urately towards the Snake Python.


    The Snake Python''s pupils contracted as he rolled away, evading just before the bomb exploded, less than a meter from him. The shockwave forced blood from his mouth, and he could not rise for a while.


    Jonathan took advantage of the situation and fired several bullets from his submachine gun. The Snake Python''s body erupted in a mist of blood, the bullets lodging in his muscles. The pain made him wail incessantly, even without striking vital organs or bones.


    Fox finally found an opportunity to use his powers, conjuring a water ball to bind the Snake Python''s limbs. Arge water sphere enveloped Snake Python, encasing him like a water capsule, submerging his entire body, including his head.


    The Snake Python opened his mouth, releasing a string of bubbles. His violent struggle caused blood to seep from his wounds, tainting the surrounding water red.


    Fox coldly controlled the water sphere, lifting it off the ground and leaving the Snake Python to tumble helplessly in mid-air.


    Jonathan''s submachine gun had run out of bullets. In two seconds, he reloaded, aiming at the water sphere. The Snake Python struggled to maintain blood-burn in the water.


    The bullets only caused bleeding, having no substantial damage. More terrifying was the trend of the bullet wounds healing, the projectiles pushed out by his powerful muscles and dropping into the water.


    Fox could imbue the water with properties it didn''t naturally possess, such as tenacity. He could control water like a rope, granting it "strength." Fox manipted the water, forcing it into the Snake Python''s nose and mouth, causing his eyes to roll back and his struggle to weaken.


    In truth, Fox could have killed the Snake Python more easily, but he chose instead to torment him slowly, prolonging his agony.


    Jonathan reluctantly set down his submachine gun.


    The Snake Python would suffocate before being killed by bullets unless he voluntarily deactivated his Blood-burn ability.


    Jonathan was unwilling to let Fox kill the Snake Python in such a manner.


    He wanted to shove the gun barrel into the Snake Python''s mouth, knowing that his insides remained soft no matter how resilient his muscles and skin were.


    But Jonathan held back for a moment, calming himself. Instead of raising his weapon, he grabbed another miniature bomb, pulling the pin. Under Fox''s shocked gaze, he thrust his arm into the water sphere and deftly shoved the bomb into the Snake Python''s gaping mouth before retreating to a safe distance.


    "Boom!"


    The water sphere and the Snake Python all exploded, scattering water, blood, flesh, and limbs across the ground.


    Fox stared nkly, "You... you really hate him, huh?"


    Jonathan''s mask was covered in a mix of blood and water. He shook stand, dislodging the debris clinging to his body.


    "You have killed the Snake Python."


    "You have stripped the Snake Python of his super abilities."


    "You have acquired the super ability: [Blood Burn - ss C]."


    "You have acquired the super ability: [Flesh Regeneration - ss D]."


    "[Blood Burn - ss C]: Use your blood as fuel in exchange for immense strength."


    "[Flesh Regeneration - ss D]: Your wounds heal at a rate far exceeding that of an ordinary person."


    "Red, mission aplished. I don''t want to touch this corpse. Have the auxiliary squade to clean up the aftermath," Jonathan stated.


    Compared to the disgusting Xenobiotics creature, the Snake Python''s corpse was barely an appetizer, and although it disturbed him, he was surprisingly epting of it.


    Even Jonathan was amazed by his current state of mind, and he detached himself from his emotions and analyzed his thoughts.


    During the pursuit of the Snake Python, his blood seemed to be on fire, hurdling obstacles and running as fast as possible, wanting to catch up to him and kill him.


    It was a rare opportunity to strike; if he missed it, there might never be another chance. The Snake Python could escape disappear, and Jonathan would lose his opportunity for revenge.


    Fortunately, he seeded in killing the Snake Python, which brought Jonathan a sense of relief, joy, and a strange sense of aplishment.


    He had gained two super abilities. Although he had no chance to experiment with them yet, they undoubtedly served as life-saving assets for him.


    Since arriving in the Second World, Jonathan had been learning and adapting, trying to find the right attitude to face such a passive andplex situation and seeking an opportunity to turn the tables.


    Killing the Snake Python was his first step, and he would be more proactive in the future.


    "Rose said the Snake Python took God''s Blood," Red said in a bad mood. "His blood is contaminated and can''t be used to extract memories."


    Jonathan paused, realizing that the potion the Snake Python had taken was the "God''s Blood" Martin had mentioned... it truly had an astonishing effect.


    "Where did he get it?" Jonathan asked, pretending to be puzzled.


    "Where else? Only a few forces are capable of refining God''s Blood," Red replied. "I''m leaning towards the Investigation department. They''re coveting the things on the Kraken, and they won''t tolerate any unstable elements threatening the port... But they''re just pawns, and the real people behind them are likelier to be..."


    His voice trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.


    Jonathan suddenly remembered that when he first met Fox, he had referred to the Investigation department as "thepdogs of the Consortium."


    "It''s time to go," Fox said. "If we linger, the coastal security team will arrive."


    "Right, use your water to wash away the dirt on me," Jonathan requested.


    Fox manipted a stream of water to gently brush away the bloodstains on Jonathan''s mask, grumbling, "You should''ve stood farther away during the explosion."

 Chapter 28: "This place is far from peaceful"

    <h4>Chapter 28: "This ce is far from peaceful"</h4>


    When Jonathan returned home, he nced at the digital clock; it was now past midnight.


    Perfect, he had finished his second job of the night without staying up all night, allowing him to get a luxurious six hours of sleep.


    The digital clock disyed the time and date: July 31, 2086, 00:28.


    This was Jonathan''s fifth day since he had traveled to the Second World.


    Tomorrow would be August, leaving only eight days until the bombing n was officially executed and eleven days until the Kraken''s officialnding.


    Jonathan removed his dirty clothes, wrapped them in a garbage bag, and nned to find an opportunity to dispose of them. The clothes were covered in blood and flesh, and although Fox had washed them, they still smelled blood.


    Fox was sitting in the living room, tidying up the equipment, while Jonathan went to change clothes and take a shower.


    Jonathan filled the bathtub with water and soaked it to rx his tense muscles. The two super abilities he gained tonight - Blood Burn and Flesh Regeneration - were very useful. Blood burn could be damaging to the body and unsuitable for experimentation, but Flesh Regeneration was incredibly practical.


    Jonathan grabbed the razor from the shelf next to the bathtub and made a small cut on his finger. A bead of blood oozed out, and the shallow wound healed within a second. The cut skin closed up, leaving smooth, unblemished skin after wiping away the blood.


    Then He took the razor again and stabbed it deep into his palm, cutting through flesh and blood. Blood streamed from the gash, dripping down his wrist into the bathwater.


    This time, the wound took longer to heal, about five or six seconds. Tiny, wriggling bits of flesh reconnected the cut, and the broken tissue rejoined, with the newly formed skin showing a hint of pink.


    Jonathan''s shoulders rxed as he leaned back in the bathtub, half-closed eyes, breathing deeply. The Flesh Regeneration ability further enhanced his survival capabilities, making all the fatigue and risks of the night worthwhile.


    The non-stop day and night high work left Jonathan exhausted. Unknowingly, he fell asleep while leaning against the bathtub.


    Fox finished organizing the equipment andy on the sofa, lost in thought. As apetent subordinate, he was always obedient, doing whatever his boss ordered. He really wanted to sleep at this moment, but Jonathan hadn''t finished his shower yet. Perhaps after the shower, Jonathan would give him some tasks for the night, such as conducting an investigation or something.


    So Fox forced himself to stay awake. After waiting an hour without hearing any noise from the bathroom or seeing Jonathane out, he got up, puzzled, and knocked on the door, "Hey! What''s going on?"


    Jonathan, who was in the bathtub, woke up immediately and sat up, saying, "I''m fine."


    Relieved by his response, Fox returned to the living room and continued to sit on the sofa.


    Ten minutester, Jonathan came out, toweling his hair. He had washed away the pungent smell of blood, feeling much refreshed.


    "Is there any task for tonight?" Fox asked, mindful of his work.


    "Tonight''s task is to sleep," Jonathan said, pouring himself a ss of water and downing it. "We made too much noise killing the Snake python, and the coastal security team will investigate. To be safe, we shouldn''t go out for now."


    "I like sleep tasks," Fox said, wrapping himself in a nket and lying down in the mostfortable position.


    He was quite tall, and when not curled up, his feet would stretch beyond the sofa. Fox''s breathing became steady within a few seconds, and he had already fallen asleep.


    Jonathan returned to his room and activated his wristband. Red had sent a new message.


    "The body has been recovered and sent back to headquarters for analysis. This is a rare opportunity for a dissection sample of a god-blood individual, but you blew up his head with a bomb, so the body is iplete. You didn''t have to do that."


    Jonathan replied, "I''ll be more careful next time."


    Red: "Be more discreet, Richguy."


    "How is Rose''s injury?" Jonathan asked after some thought.


    "She had surgery, and her right hand is being prepared for a prosthetic recement. She needs a day of rest before continuing on missions," Red said. "ording to her, a red threadworm had burrowed into her flesh, forcing her to cut off her hand. The worm was ced on her by the Snake python."


    "Let me know when you have the results," Jonathan said.


    The time on the wristband jumped to 01:32.


    Jonathan climbed into bed and burrowed into the covers, closing his eyes to review the day''s gains. He had passed the interview,pleted the training, dined with his teammates, and killed the Snake Python.


    The fulfilling day was ending, and Jonathan felt a sense of relief as hey in bed because he had personally eliminated an enemy who had tried to kill him.


    Although the identity of the person behind the Snake Python was still unclear, it was a good start. At least for tonight, he can get a good night''s sleep and leave the rest for consideration after waking up.


    ...


    The next morning at seven, Jonathan opened his bedroom window to let in some fresh air.


    The air in the coastal city always carried a fishy, salty smell from the sea. Jonathan was not like this scent; even before traveling to the second world, he had been a born and bred coastal resident.


    Today was sunny, and the morning light illuminated ck Sea City. With the darkness receding, Jonathan''s mood brightened up like the weather.


    "I hate sunny days. I hate the sun," Fox grumbled, looking sullen.


    For breakfast, Jonathan had a bowl of cereal with milk. As he stuffed cereal into his mouth, hismunicator beeped �C Moss had sent him today''s schedule in advance.


    Since the Seventh Squad was collectively assigned to port duty, he didn''t have to rush to the investigation building by monorail in the morning. Instead, he could go directly to the Coastal Security Team''s office at the port. Moss''s email thoughtfully marked the location of the Coastal Security office, and even the best route from Jonathan''s home to the office had been calcted.


    The email ended with a friendly note: Today is sunny at 38 degrees Celsius. Outdoor patrols on the coast may cause sunburn, so it is rmended to apply sunscreen.


    "I don''t think I have any sunscreen at home..." Jonathan muttered to himself.


    "Sunscreen? I have some," Fox said, lifting his face from his cereal bowl. "I have a lot of sunscreens." He pulled a tube out of his pocket and handed it to Jonathan. "Here, you can use this."


    "umm, Thanks," Jonathan said, puzzled.


    "My skincks mnin, so it can''t protect against ultraviolet rays. I have to use sunscreen," Foxined. "Every time I go on a mission, I must be fully armed and wrapped up tightly. It''s so troublesome... Some sunscreens have poor water resistance, while the ones with good water resistance are expensive. I prefer working at night. At least there''s no sunlight."


    No wonder he hated sunny days and the sun. Such weather was indeed unfriendly to albinos like him.


    After breakfast, Jonathan applied sunscreen to his face and arms. Fox also applied sunscreen much more meticulously than Jonathan, taking care of every nook and cranny, including his neck, behind his ears, and his ankles. After applying the sunscreen, he carefully put on his mask and a long-sleeved jacket and pulled down the hood. A hat was essential for protecting the scalp from the sun.


    "I''m ready. What are the instructions for today?" Fox asked, fully prepared.


    "Follow the original n. Go to Dock 5 to scan and collect data, then send it back to headquarters to analyze the load-bearing column locations," Jonathan said. "Rose is recovering from her injuries, so you''ll have to do much."


    Fox epted the responsibility withoutint. "Alright, I got it."


    Dock 5 was a floating harbor with many structures built on the water. Floating sections were supported by load-bearing columns and anchored. Sending Fox, who possessed super abilities rted to water, to scan the dock would significantly increase efficiency.


    Jonathan left for the Coastal Security Team''s office, which was not far from his home �C a 20-minute walk. The morning temperature was not too high, and the walk could be considered a pleasant stroll.


    The Coastal Security office was not as grand as the investigation building. It was a rtively small three-story building surrounded by security cameras and a steel fence.


    When Jonathan arrived at the entrance, the security cameras pointed at him and recognized his facial information.


    "Hello, Security Officer Jonathan, wee to the Coastal Security office. I hope you enjoy working here," Moss''s voice came at the right time.


    Before, Moss would call him "Intern Security Officer Jonathan," but now that he had be a regr employee, Moss''s title for him had changed.


    The steel fence slid open, creating a passage for Jonathan. Upon entering, he realized the environment was not as good as the investigation building. The police cars didn''t have dedicated parking pads and were parked on the ground. The training area was vast, but it was outdoors.


    As he entered the first floor, Moss said, "You need to go to the patrol officers on the third floor to check-in. Your team leader will assign you specific patrol tasks."


    When Jonathan opened the door to the office on the third floor, Martin, Luke, and Simon were already sitting inside.


    "Good morning," Jonathan said.


    "It''s convenient to live nearby, isn''t it? I remember you live around here, right?" Luke asked. "Robert''s house is in the city center, far from here. I hope he doesn''t arrivete."


    Just as Luke finished speaking, Robert burst in, sweating profusely: "Why is the nearest stop to here the Baker Street Station? It takes tens of minutes to walk here. I had to run."


    "That''s because the harbor area is too poor, and the hover train coverage is notprehensive," Jonathan shrugged.


    "Leave earlier next time, Robert," Martin said. "I was initially worried about the security of Baker Street and wanted to ask Jonathan to apply for employee housing, but now that we''ve been transferred here, living in Baker Street has be more convenient."


    "I''ll apply for employee housing when we''re transferred back to headquarters," Jonathan said.


    Living in employee housing would undoubtedly make it difficult for him to contact Mechanical Dawn members or go out at any time. Baker Street was a better option, and with his highbat capabilities, he wasn''t afraid of any trouble there.


    Rotating teams carried out Coastal patrol work, and each team generally served a one-month shift. This meant that Team Seven could return to headquarters afterpleting a month of patrol duty here.


    "By the way, did they ever catch the bastard who caused Jonathan''s head injury?" Simon asked.


    "No, we don''t even know who he is," Martin looked at Jonathan. "Jonathan suffered a severe head injury and has no memory of the incident."


    Jonathan lied without changing his expression, "Yeah, I can''t remember anything... If I knew who he was, I would definitely make him pay."


    The original "Security Officer Jonathan," reced by a Mechanical Dawn undercover operative, had an ident at the harbor in the harbor area. At that time, a firefight suddenly broke out at the port, and some people were bombing the harbor while others were engaged in gunfights. It was extremely chaotic. The investigation department sent more personnel to the port to arrest those causing the chaos. "Security Officer Jonathan" followed several teams to provide support but unfortunately became a victim.


    "Our coastal patrol is divided into sea patrols andnd patrols. Sea patrols mainly involve checking whether ships are operating normally and if there are smuggling or trafficking vessels. Land patrols aim to maintain the security of the harbor," Martin said. "For now, Teams Six and Five are responsible for sea patrols, while we and other patrol personnel are responsible fornd patrols."


    "Please be cautious. Last night, there was another incident; someone was killed near the port. The attackers used heavy firearms, and we found nearly a hundred bullet casings at the scene. The victim''s flesh and blood were blown several meters away by a bomb, but the body was missing. Someone removed the corpse, indicating that this was likely an organized and premeditated murder operation with multiple participants."


    Robert asked, "Has the victim''s identity been confirmed?"


    "No records were found about his identity. He was unregistered, and no information could be found about him on the inte. The victim was a ''ghost'' who did not exist in society," Martin said indifferently. "However, this is not something we need to worry about. The criminal investigation team will be responsible for the case, andst night, Team Leader Beyema personally went to the scene."


    Jonathan''s eyebrows twitched.


    "The Beyema team leader personally took action?" Luke eximed.


    Simon said, "After all,st night''smotion was quite significant, different from ordinary gang fights. Heavy firearms and bombs... These are not things that ordinary forces can get their hands on."


    "Higher-ups have ordered the port to resume normal operations before August 5. We need to do our patrol work well and be prepared for any idents that may ur during the port''s repair process," Martin instructed. "Always wear your firearms and carry extra ammunition when going out on patrol... These are extraordinary times, and this ce is far from peaceful."

 Chapter 29: "Are you guys into charity?"

    <h4>Chapter 29: "Are you guys into charity?"</h4>


    "August 1st, Port Patrol Log:


    At 9:23 a.m., a brawl ensued, detaining two individuals and admonishing three others.


    At 10:56 a.m., workers at berth five engaged in a fistfight over trivial matters and were subsequently escorted to the port''s detention facility for reflection and admonishment.


    At 3:11 p.m., we received a robbery alert. Upon arriving at the scene, the suspect had already fled. After collecting evidence from the crime scene, the victim returned to the security office for a written statement.


    At 6:05 p.m., a group of idle individuals was caught ingesting drugs in a narrow alley at 168 Baker Street. Apprehended on the spot, they were taken to the investigative headquarters for further questioning.


    "August 2nd, Port Patrol Log:


    At 8:02 a.m., a floating body was discovered in the southeast corner of Dock 5. The deceased has been identified as a dockworker, and the cause of death was determined as drowning due to intoxication. The Preliminary investigation reveals no foul y; the case was deemed an idental death. The family imed the body at 12:32 p.m.


    At 1:56 p.m., a street brawl resulted in the detention of five individuals.


    At 3:14 p.m., another street brawl led to the detention of four individuals.


    At 5:09 p.m., a street fight involving weapons such as steel pipes, crowbars, bone-pickers, and old-fashioned revolvers broke out. After security patrol warnings were disregarded, shots were fired, killing two and detaining the rest.


    "What a fine day... yet another splendid, peaceful day draws to a close, and it has been a leisurely one," mused Jonathan as he sat in his office, tapping the final character on his screen and stretchingnguorously.


    Jonathan had much to learn as a neer, such as crafting reports and handling disputes during port patrols.


    Jonathan has been writing the reports for the past few days, entering the work logs into Moss''s system for archiving.


    For two consecutive days, nothing urred.


    Fox diligently collects data every day. After recing the mechanical hand, Rose took on some of the workload. Red''s contact with Jonathan has lessened, likely due to their mission reaching a critical point. Given the size of the docks and the frequent patrols of security officers, gathering data is no easy task.


    Having not worked at Mechanical Dawn for two nights in a row, Jonathan felt slightly off. Working only one job afforded him ample leisure, and he could devote time to evening studying.


    The thought of the stacks of thick textbooks in his room makes Jonathan''s head spin. Mastering all the college courses in a matter of days is a tall order. Fortunately, he didn''t need any Criminal Investigation expertise at the moment. Most incidents at the port could be resolved with force.


    "Are you finished, Jonathan?" Martin inquired while organizing documents on a nearby desk. Turning off the projector, he said, "You''ve worked hard today."


    "No trouble at all; the report is only a few hundred words. Captain, you''ve worked much harder than I have," Jonathan replied, saving his work and turning off the projector as well.


    "Time to leave," Martin nced at the time.


    The coastal security team''s patrol duties are divided into day and night shifts. The daytime work is rtively easy, but the real danger lies in the night shift. Under the cover of darkness, all manner of unsavory activitiese to the fore.


    Like disgusting bugs, they will burrow into the earth to escape the harsh sunlight, only to crawl out when darkness falls.


    People could hardly fathom just how wild the night can be in ck Sea City.


    "Is our night shift starting tomorrow?" Jonathan asked.


    "Yes, no need toe in during the day. Shift starts at 8 p.m.," Martin replied.


    The high-intensity night patrols can wear a person down, so day and night shifts are rotated every two days. The Seventh Squad was on daytime patrol thest few days; tomorrow, it''s their turn for the night shift.


    "Would you like to take a stroll together?" Martin invited.


    "Sounds good, let''s take a walk. It''s much cooler in the evening than during the day," Jonathan replied.


    Patrolling the docks during the day was stifling for him, facing temperatures in the thirties or forties while d in thick gear to be prepared for any contingencies.


    Jonathan''s standard patrol posture with his teammates these past few days had been to stand upright, alert to his surroundings, with his right hand constantly resting on the holster at his waist, ready to draw his weapon.


    He had been on edge since hearing from his Coastal Security colleagues about frequent encounters with armed gang members near the port. What if a gang member with a vendetta against the investigative department suddenly emerged during his patrol and shot him?


    Jonathan didn''t want to be killed by anyone, so he stayed vignt with his hand on his holster while patrolling. If anyone tried to kill him, he would beat them to it.


    And that''s precisely what he did today. In the afternoon, when a group engaged in a brawl, he didn''t hold back, taking down their leader with just two shots.


    Jonathan and Martin changed into casual clothes and left the Coastal Security office. Martin apanied Jonathan on his usual route home.


    "How have you been feeling these past couple of days?" Martin asked with concern.


    "I''m fine," Jonathan said, "The first and second times might be overwhelming... but after that, the feeling fades."


    Martin said, "You''re the most adaptable rookie I''ve ever seen."


    "Thanks for the praise, Captain," Jonathan calmly epted thepliment.


    "You were internally recruited from ck Sea Academy to intern with the investigative department, the only neer of your batch. It might be difficult to find someone with the same mindset to converse with, but seeing you''ve adapted to the department''s tasks puts me at ease," Martin said. "In a normal process, you''d need even more training before being ready to handle things on your own. Putting you on patrol might have been a bit hasty."


    Jonathan replied, "Don''t worry about my mindset. I anticipated the chaos of the harbor and mentally prepared myself so it doesn''t feel unbearable."


    "Right, you''re from the harbor area," Martin said. "In a month, we''ll be recruiting externally. Once we train more rookies, the pressure will lessen significantly. For now, we have to withstand it."


    "I know, it''s extraordinary times," Jonathan said. "it has been more chaotic than usualtely."


    As darkness fell and a cool breeze blew, the lights in the low-rise residential buildings of the harbor area flickered on.


    Martin said, "Jonathan, as a security officer, you must not only learn to endure pressure but also resist temptation."


    "What do you mean?" Jonathan turned his head, pretending not to understand.


    "You''re still young. Although you''ve seen some dark things, the filthiest and darkest acts are beyond your imagination," Martin said. "Do you know why our Coastal Security Team rotates every month?"


    Jonathan listened attentively.


    "Because of bribery," Martin whispered. "Smugglers at the port bribe the long-term stationed Coastal Security Team, turning them into aplices."


    Jonathan wasn''t surprised by this. Such things happened everywhere, differing only in scale and severity.


    "Rotating the squads stationed at the Coastal Security Office each month raises the cost of bribery for criminals. Every time a new groupes in, they must spend time and money cultivating rtionships," Jonathan continued, guessing Martin''s point. "Is that right, Captain?"


    "Yes, it''s an unavoidable situation," Martin said, "We can''tpletely prevent these things from happening."


    "Captain, I believe you are an honest and kind person," Jonathan hesitated and looked at Martin, "You wouldn''t take bribes, would you?"


    Martin was taken aback: "What are you thinking? Who would be so corrupt and still tell you all the ins and outs?"


    "What if you''re trying to silence me and want to discuss splitting the spoils with me?" Jonathan said, stroking his chin.


    "Alright, I know you''re joking," Martin said, unable to hold back a smile.


    "Captaines from a wealthy family, so I guess you wouldn''t care about that little money," Jonathan said, "I feel at ease working with you."


    "Thank you for your trust," Martin replied.


    Jonathan thought seriously, "You just said that we can''tpletely prevent these things from happening... A month is not a short time; someone might indeed be bribed. That means not only do we face threats from gangs, but sometimes we may also be betrayed by our teammates?"


    "Yes, that''s the case," Martin said. "The world is tooplicated, as are people''s hearts. Jonathan, you just graduated from college. You need to adapt to the fight and society."


    "My parents are not around, and there are no reliable rtives or elders. No one tells me about these things," Jonathan paused, "You''re the first person to teach me about the ways of the world, Captain."


    "Having someone teach you is better than fighting alone and struggling alone," Martin said. "If you don''t understand, just ask. If you can''t do something, just learn. Gradually, you''ll get it."


    "Mhm, okay," Jonathan replied, "I''ll remember that."


    "you should head back," Jonathan said.


    "Rest well during the day, or you won''t be able to handle the night shift," Martin nodded in farewell. "Goodbye."


    Jonathan stood at the entrance of his building, watching Martin''s figure disappear around the corner of the street. He turned and went upstairs, opening the door to his home.


    Fox was bored at the dining table, ying with a water ball, "Who was that guy downstairs? You talked to him for quite a while."


    Jonathan raised an eyebrow, "You saw?"


    "I saw him, but he didn''t see me," Fox said.


    "Be careful. He''s my captain at the Investigation Department," Jonathan said, entering the door and changing his shoes before washing his face in the bathroom.


    He went to the kitchen and frowned, "There''s no food left... I guess I''ll go to the convenience store to buy something to eat for now, and I''m toozy to cook." Jonathan returned to the door, preparing to leave, "Next time you finish a mission, buy some ingredients; don''t forget."


    "Oh, okay," Fox said listlessly, lying on the table.


    Jonathan walked downstairs and headed to a convenience store, following the direction from his memory.


    His fellow townsman Daniel''s parents owned a convenience store in the Second World, so since he was going out to buy something, he also decided to check up on Daniel''s situation.


    "Wee," an old-fashioned announcement machine said with a muffled mechanical sound as he entered.


    The convenience store was small but well-stocked with daily necessities and various foods. The sound of wheels rolling could be heard.


    "Jonathan?"


    "Daniel?"


    Jonathan was shocked to see Daniel in a wheelchair, covered in bandages and ster. His head was wrapped tightly, exposing only his eyes, nose, and mouth. He looked miserable.


    "What happened to you?" Jonathan asked in surprise. "It''s only been a few days since west met."


    Daniel pursed his lips, "I got hit by a car while delivering food... The person who hit me was a rich second-generation, very arrogant."


    "Did you getpensation?" Jonathan asked.


    "He said he would go through the legal process, butpensation would take at least three months to arrive," Daniel said sadly. "I''ve lost sensation in both legs and need prosthetic limbs. My parents are raising money for me..."


    As he spoke, tears streamed down his face. Daniel had experienced many hardships recently, and he had never felt life so difficult. It was so hard that he could hardly breathe.


    The excitement and anticipation ofing to this world were being worn away by reality. The injuries and pain he experienced in the Second World were real, as were all his experiences. His game system was just a decoration, serving no purpose beyond viewing the panel. There were no scenarios where he would awaken superpowers, obtain a cheat skill, or dominate the world.


    In the Second World, Daniel lived like an ordinary person, humbly and genuinely. He worried about money and livelihood and experienced various idents.


    Most of the lower-ss residents in the Second World lived like this.


    In the Second World, Daniel''s identity is set up in such a way that. If he could not change his situation, he would continue to be ordinary in the Second World.


    "I''m sorry for making you see me like this... I just couldn''t control my emotions," Daniel sniffed. "You wanted to buy something, right? Just pick what you want, and you can pay by facial scan at the front desk."


    Jonathan grabbed some bread, milk, and a few bags of snacks. Just as he was about to pay, a low-key ck car pulled up outside the convenience store. A well-dressed man in a suit got out of the car and walked straight into the store, his gaze fixed on Daniel.


    "Hello, Daniel," the man in the suit handed out a business card, "I''m Davis from the Recruitment Department of Rick Technology Corporation. I''d like to introduce you to ourpany''s talent recruitment program."


    Daniel was stunned, "I was admitted to the ck Sea Academy but haven''t graduated yet. I haven''t even started my studies. Isn''t it a bit too early to recruit me now..."


    "You''ve misunderstood our intentions," Davis exined gently, "We have a partnership with the university for recruitment, and we saw your information. Your grades are excellent, but the tuition fees for the ck Sea Academy...to be honest, not many ordinary families can afford it. Our Rick Technology Corporation Talent Cultivation Foundation can provide low-interest or even interest-free loans to impoverished students."


    "Are you guys into charity?" Daniel asked, his mouth agape.


    "Of course not; there are conditions for obtaining the loan," Davis revealed his true intentions, "You need to sign a contract guaranteeing that you will work for Rick Technology Corporation after graduation."


    This was... a monopoly on technology talents, Daniel realized btedly.


    He knew almost nothing about Rick Technology Corporation, so he instinctively looked to the "native resident" Jonathan for guidance.


    "Jonathan, what do you think?"


    Jonathan pondered momentarily before saying, "Rick is a reliablepany. You should take a good look at the contract and discuss it with your parents when theye home. Whether to ept or not is up to your personal choice... If you don''t have a better option at this stage, you can consider Rick Technology Corporation."


    Davis politely nodded at Jonathan, "This gentleman''s opinion is quite reasonable." He nced at Daniel''s legs, "Ourpany''s bionic mechanical technology is world-leading. If Mr. Daniel signs the agreement, we will offer suitable prosthetic limbs at a rtively preferential price."

 Chapter 30: "I... I’m back?"

    <h4>Chapter 30: "I... I''m back?"</h4>


    Daniel''s favorable consideration by Rick Technologies'' personnel may be attributed to Fox''s report to the organization.


    Rick Technologies harbored an intricate connection with the Mechanical Dawn, serving as a facadepany under its control. Within the Rick Technologies building, the headquartersboratory of the Mechanical Dawny concealed.


    Jonathan pondered deeply as he walked home carrying food from the convenience store.


    Mechanical Dawn is a deep shadow upon his mind, a sword of Damocles hanging over his head. After days of observation and analysis, he had gleaned some superficial understanding of the organization.Nevertheless, he remained unknown to its true power extent, the purpose for its inception, and its principles.


    All he could do was deduce the power of the organization from certain details.


    The strike team that executed the port demolition consisted of individuals who were, at the very least, ss C Awakened. Among them, Fox, Rose, the Bartender, Crystal, and Meteor were ss B, some of whom possessed super abilities unsuited forbat, such as the Bartender, a reconnaissance type. The Snake Python, the lowest-ranked member of the strike team, was merely ss C, albeit withbat prowess equivalent to ss B.


    As for Red, Jonathan suspected he was at least of ss A. Given that he had won the loyalty and respect of so many Awakened, his level of awakening couldn''t possibly be lower than ss B.


    Regrettably, the information Red provided contained no mention of his super abilities. Perhaps the original body knew and excluded him from the dossier.


    In addition to Red, the Mechanized Dawn was likely to harbor a multitude of ss A Awakened individuals.


    While the government officially concealed the existence of the Xenobiotics creature from ordinary citizens, they did not withhold information about the Awakened. High-ranking Awakened citizens could elevate their civilian ss, with ss D Awakened ascending directly to ss 3, on par with certain government officials, clearly showcasing preferential treatment.


    Nheless, under such circumstances, a significant number of high-ranking Awakened individuals were recruited by the Mechanical Dawn.


    What attracted these Awakened individuals to the organization? By what means did they ensure loyalty?


    The longer Jonathan remained in this world, the more questions arose within his heart.


    Setting aside other doubts, for the time being, one pertained to himself.


    How had the original body, an individual without even awakened super abilities, be a core member of the Mechanical Dawn?


    How was he involved in critical missions like the port st?


    What qualified him to be a teammate of so many high-ranking Awakened individuals, even serving as the deputymander?


    Was it merely his intellect and undercover identity, or was there a more vital reason?


    Red''s attitude towards him was quite egalitarian, disying no airs of superiority. However, he did not treat other team members in the same manner; rather, he revealed a degree of arrogance as a superior, issuing orders in amanding tone.


    Thismanding tone was Something Red had never employed with him. When discussing matters with Jonathan, Red was always open to negotiation, sometimes considering his situation and opinions.


    Jonathan''s status within the Mechanical Dawn was somewhat peculiar.


    "Deputy Commander, the port data for the final area has been scanned and transmitted to headquarters," Rose reported.


    "I see," Jonathan replied.


    Upon entering his home, Jonathan told Red, "Our data scanning work here ispleted."


    Red responded, "We''ll need one more night. Sigh, having Fox around is indeed convenient."


    Fox''s super ability was most advantageous at the port, as controlling liquids was an incredibly versatile power.


    In truth, Jonathan was exceedingly envious of Fox''s ability, though he could not act against Fox just yet.


    Unaware of Jonathan''s dark musings, Fox was simply delighted to see hime home with food, eagerly tearing open a bag of chips and munching away in bliss.


    After finishing a piece of bread and a yogurt bottle, Jonathan retreated to his bedroom to study.


    He nned to study all night, sleep during the day, and patrol on the night shift tomorrow.


    His schedule was full andpact; he had never exerted himself to such an extent, even during periods of the test.


    ....


    August 2nd, 8:00 PM.


    Promptly, Jonathan set out for his night shift.


    "The best part about working nights is not having to apply sunscreen," Robertined. "Captain, I suggest incorporating sunscreen into our coastal security team''s standard equipment and having it procured centrally!!"


    On his first day at work, Robert had neglected to bring sunscreen, and had it not been for Jonathan lending him some, he would have been painfully sunburned.


    "Wholeheartedly agree," the others chimed in.


    "I''ll draft a proposal another day," Martin stated nonchntly. "Go and change into your gear. Don''t forget the night-vision goggles. Our Squad Seven is only responsible for Dock Five; other squads cover the other docks."


    Once everyone was properly equipped, they assembled.


    "Here''s to hoping today is another peaceful and pleasant day," Jonathan said while adjusting his night-vision goggles.


    "Another?" Robertughed. "Each day in the harbor district is filled with various incidents, far from peaceful and pleasant."


    Jonathan grinned. "My expectations are low. As long as no crisis threatens us, I consider that peaceful and pleasant."


    "Indeed," Robert agreed, repeating Jonathan''s words, "Here''s to hoping today is another peaceful and pleasant day."


    Luke grimaced, "Let''s not jinx it. I didn''t think anything would happen today, but now that you mention it, I''m starting to feel like Something will."


    "Subjective perceptions cannot influence the urrence of such events," Simon stated matter-of-factly. "If Something does happen, there''s no need to be afraid. Just hold your weapon tightly."


    Night patrols required patrol vehicles featuring bulletproof ss, two driving modes (floating and road), and autonomous driving and navigation functions.


    Martin sat in the driver''s seat, Simon in the passenger seat, and the others in the back. The patrol vehicle lifted into the air and headed towards Dock Five.


    The dock, originally filled with stacks of containers, was now deserted.


    Due to a previous bombing incident, the area had been closed for some time, and all the cargo had been cleared. The damaged part of the dock had been mostly repaired, and it was expected to resume operations the day after tomorrow.


    Construction equipment and debris were scattered around the dock, making it appear somewhat chaotic.


    Dock Five had arge area for amodating massive cargo ships. At its busiest times, several ships could dock and unload cargo simultaneously.


    The patrol vehiclended on a rtively t tform, and Jonathan, Robert, and Luke got out to perform a thorough inspection. Martin and Simon stayed inside the vehicle, monitoringmunications and ready to provide support anytime.


    "Despite the temporary closure of this dock, smuggling, human trafficking, and ck market deals haven''t decreased," Luke said cautiously while scanning the area with his night-vision goggles. "Let''s be careful."


    The harbor operates around the clock, with peopleing and going non-stop. Lawbreakers use therge flow of people to conduct trades at the harbor. Smuggled goods are transported ashore with regr cargo and then quietly shipped away. Now, ck-market trading is even more rampant because fewer people and less attention are paid to the area, making the criminals more brazen.


    Previously, they would still try to cover up their activities, but now they don''t even bother to hide. When they encounter patrolling officers, they scatter and run. Some bolder ones even dare to shoot at security officers with guns.


    The gangs in the harbor area can be described in one word - rampant.


    The security personnel patrolling here are risking their lives at work. Aspensation, the various fieldwork squads that are transferred to patrol the Coast Security Team will receive an additional bonus except for their sries. Withoutpensation in terms of wages, who would be willing to do such a dangerous job?


    Dock Five was a floating harbor, but standing on the floating tform felt no different than standing on solid ground. There was no sense of the waves, and the tform remained perfectly stable.


    Jonathan remained alert, his hand resting on his gun at all times. Even the usually talkative Robert was silent.


    The only sounds were the howling of the sea breeze and the breathing of their teammates.


    Patrolling involved more than just checking if anyone was around; they also needed to inspect equipment and areas prone to hiding filth.


    The patrol had to be conducted in shifts. Inspecting the entire dock took over an hour, and they had to repeat the process every half hour.


    Remaining vignt was mentally exhausting, especially during a tense night like this.


    Jonathan and his teammate had patrolled the dock twice, taking a short break in between before continuing. By midnight, they could be ready to hand over their duties to another team.


    "Three more minutes until midnight. Let''s gather at the assembly point to hand over our duties," Martin said over themunication channel. "Good job, everyone. After this, we can head back to the office."


    Tonight seemed to be as peaceful and pleasant as Jonathan had hoped.


    Robert couldn''t help but mutter, "Something''s not right... Why haven''t we seen anyone? Usually, we''d catch at least one or two people using drugs..."


    The night was too quiet, eerily quiet.


    As Jonathan passed a rusted shipping container, he suddenly felt a drop of cold liquid on his neck.


    He wiped his neck with his finger, and under the night vision goggles, this drop of liquid appeared dark.


    Then Jonathan smelled blood, and another drop of liquid dripped down, this time onto his night vision goggles.


    Jonathan''s face changed drastically. He drew his gun and pointed it upwards, shouting simultaneously, "Something''s up!"


    Robert and Luke also raised their guns, scanning their surroundings cautiously.


    Jonathan saw the object above him. It was a leg hanging from the top of the three-meter-tall container. A gust of wind blew, causing the leg to roll and fall with a thud in front of Jonathan, sttering blood on his shoes.


    It was a severed lower leg! The break was smooth and clean, as if it had been precisely sawed off with an electric saw.


    Jonathan''s mouth twitched, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.


    "Xenobiotics creature !" With his vast experience, Luke had a grim expression on his face. "Judging by the cut, it''s a Sickle Demon. Captain, we need to..."


    Before Luke could finish his sentence, Jonathan''s danger avoidance instincts were triggered.


    A fierce gust of wind came from his side, and a long object whipped towards him with lightning speed, as swift as a hunting ck mamba snake.


    Jonathan reflexively dodged and immediately felt a chilling sensation in his abdomen. His high-fiber bulletproof vest had been instantly cut open by the object, leaving a massive gash across his stomach with blood pouring out.


    Jonathan would have been sliced in half if he had been even a fraction of a second slower!


    "Jonathan!" Robert fired his gun toward the direction of the attack, but it seemed Something had managed to avoid the bullets.


    The twisted, horrifying Xenobiotics creature revealed its true form. It was smaller than Jonathan had imagined, about half a human''s height, and resembled a praying mantis. It had a triangr face, eyes as big as light bulbs, and two tentacles on its upper body. These tentacles were connected to the bone des of hooks, chitinous and curved.


    Blood was still visible on the pair of bone des, including Jonathan''s.


    The Xenobiotics creature licked its bone de contentedly before springing forward like a mantis, closing the distance. It swiftly whipped its flexible tentacles again, aiming straight at Jonathan.


    In his panic, Jonathan fired his gun repeatedly. Only three bullets hit the creature, and its chitinous exoskeleton blocks them all. The speed and defense of this monster were nothing short of unbelievable.


    At the veryst moment, Luke''s bullet hit the soft part of the Sickle Demon''s tentacle, causing it to retract, and Jonathan narrowly escaped the attack.


    "Reinforcements are on their way!" Martin said over themunication channel. "Hold on!"


    Injured, the Sickle Demon became even more frenzied, wildly swinging its tentacles and leaving deep marks on the metal container.


    At that moment, the port''s lighthouse began to sh irregrly. This signified that midnight had arrived.


    A new day had begun.


    Simultaneously, Jonathan''s vision was suddenly engulfed in darkness.


    The Xenobiotics creature, Robert, and Luke disappeared, as did the pain from the gash in his abdomen. Even the gun in his hand vanished.


    Jonathan found himself alone in the dark, a familiar sensation welling up within him��this was the scene he had experienced when he had traveled to the second world!


    He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a soft bed, looking at a peeling wall. A pile of booksy on a small table beside the bed, and next to the pillow, a phone with a lit screen rested silently.


    On the seventh day of his journey to the second world, Jonathan returned to the first world as the day officially ended.


    His heart pounded fiercely, and due to overwhelming emotions, he felt slightly dizzy.


    Jonathan clutched his abdomen, the pain from the gash inflicted by the Xenobiotics creature''s bone de still seemingly present. However, the skin beneath his fingers was smooth and unharmed.


    "I... I''m back?" Jonathan whispered incredulously.


    He had left that cold, cruel world and returned to the ordinary and real human world.

 Chapter 31: "Public Enemy of Players - Dispossessor No. 331"

    <h4>Chapter 31: "Public Enemy of yers - Dispossessor No. 331"</h4>


    Jonathan regained hisposure and jumped out of bed, running to the window without even putting on his slippers. He yanked open the curtains, revealing the only working streetlight in the old and rundown residential area, casting a dim light to guide people home.


    The faint light illuminated the garbage bins'' hazy outlines, cracked stone tiles on the ground, and the silent surveince cameras in the alleys. The neighborhood was quiet, without a single soul in sight.


    It seemed like an ordinary night. People returned home and slept as always, waiting for the sun to rise and begin their routine days.


    But Jonathan knew the seven days he had experienced were not a dream. It really had happened to him. Jonathan held his breath and whispered in his mind, "System?"


    The holographic game panel appeared instantly, showing his skill descriptions and the super abilities he had gained during his time in the second world. The progress of the port bombing investigation had unknowingly risen to 25%, and all the information wasid out before him.


    Jonathan gasped, his heartbeat skipping a beat. He had returned to the first world but could still summon the game panel. The game system followed him whether he was in the game world or the real world... so was the boundary between the game and reality still so clear?


    No holographic game had ever been as realistic as "Red Soil." Jonathan knew that the world was real, but he had to treat it as a game and try to pass it to the end. The game system was one of the signs that helped him differentiate between the game and reality, convincing him not to lose himself.


    But now, he also had the game system in the real world!


    People could easily distinguish between games and life because they couldn''t bring things from the game to reality and vice versa. Dying in a game meant being resurrected, and people could freely ughter NPCs andmit heinous acts without guilt. But in the real world, everyone was normal, and no one would do such things.


    "Maybe it''s not as bad as I thought..." Jonathan muttered.


    He walked over to the desk, took a utility knife from his pencil case, and, without hesitation, cut his finger. Blood flowed out, but the wound healed within two seconds!


    This time, Jonathan lost all hope. Having left the second world, his regenerative ability was still with him.


    The boundary between the game and reality had been broken! The abilities gained in the game were still in effect in the real world. The line between truth and illusion, game and reality, had be blurred.


    It was as if Jonathan had been ying "Cyber Online," but when he quit the game, he found that the game system had followed him into the real world, turning his reality into "Earth Online," a gamified world.


    The first and second worlds are two different gaming arenas!


    What was even more frightening was that "Cyber Online" was not a single-yer game but a multiyer one. Jonathan wasn''t the only yer. The number of people ying "Cyber Online" equaled the number of people ying "Earth Online."


    If other yers also gained super abilities in the second world, they would bring those abilities back to the first world. Jonathan had a vague premonition that after tonight, yers with awakened abilities would cause a massive disruption to the order of the first world.


    He took a few steps back, sat down on his bed, and picked up the silver card from his bedside table. The words on the card were crystal clear: "Dispossessor �� Jonathan, Number: 331."


    It was like an ID card, an identity marker. Dispossessor was the profession, Jonathan was his real name, and the number was like an ID. Everything had seemed off ever since he received this silver card.


    It was like a pass, granting Jonathan the qualification to travel between worlds.


    Jonathan put down the card and picked up his phone, which had gone dark beside his pillow. He entered his lock screen password, and the screen lit up. It was now July 27th, 00:02.


    He entered the game at midnight and left at midnight. After spending seven days in the game, it seemed that time in the real world had barely moved at all��everything was frozen.


    Several night owls were chatting away with great enthusiasm in the chat group. Their messages flooded the screen one after another. Jonathan caught a glimpse of their conversation, which happened to be about "Red Soil." They wanted the game officials to open the second round of beta testing as soon as possible so they could get their hands on the game.


    ying the game? More like ying with their lives.


    Jonathan gave a bitter smile. After a brief pause, he logged into the "Red Soil" closed beta yer forum. What caught his eye was the red number of survivors: 9,630.


    After spending a week in the second world, more than 300 out of 10,000 yers had died.


    Following crossing over, Jonathan started with the terrible, bing an undercover agent walking a tightrope and facing danger at every turn. Sean also started with terrible, but if he had stayed quietly in the mental hospital, he would have been safe. Another yer, Daniel, started as an ordinary person. Although he was poor, had bad luck, and got hit by a car, he wasn''t in any mortal danger.


    Jonathan believed those who started with the terrible and died as soon as they entered the game were in the minority. Even so, more than 300 out of 10,000 yers had died, and each number likely represented a life.


    As he scrolled down the forum, Jonathan''s fingers froze. His pupils contracted, and his heart raced just as it had when he first returned to the first world.


    Three posts with the "Official" prefix were marked in red and pinned to the top. The titles of these three posts were very simple.


    The first post: List of Death yers.


    The second post: Exnation of yer Professions.


    The third post: Introduction to Basic Rules.


    Jonathan didn''t have time to read the posts from other yers, so he clicked on the first one first.


    The opening post contained a seemingly endless list of names. The list didn''t disclose the yers'' real names, only their numbers and the time of death. It was like an obituary, yet it had an inexplicable, mysterious feeling.


    "Walker 1 died on July 27th. Walker, 16, died on July 27th. Walker 536..."


    Jonathan quickly skimmed the list, noticing that the highest number of deaths urred during the first two days of the game. The number of deaths gradually decreased afterward, likely because the yers had begun to adapt to the world and learned the rules of the second world. So, they started hiding, and fewer people died.


    As he scrolled through the list, a line of text stood out due to its length, making it very noticeable. The line read: "Walker1368, killed by Dispossessor 331 on July 29th."


    Jonathan stared in shock. Dispossessor 331 was him! The game officials had actually publicized his killing of Sean!


    Feeling lightheaded, he exited the post and nced at the forum''s main page.


    Roughly counting, there were dozens of posts in differentnguages with the number "331" in the title. Most of these post titles ended with question marks and exmation points, with some even ending with a long row of question marks and exmation points.


    With a quick refresh, more and more posts with the number "331" kept appearing. Jonathan could only understand English, but the titles of several English posts on the main page were all rted to him!


    "Who is Dispossessor 331??"


    "Why did Dispossessor 331 kill our own people?!"


    "Is Dispossessor 331 a madman? Antisocial personality from birth? Have you made a mistake? You killed someone! This isn''t a game; we''ve entered a real world with living people! Living people!"


    "Damn, I spent those days in the second world working hard to earn money as a corporate ve, being extremely cautious not to overstep, while Dispossessor 331 is acting all high and mighty, daring to kill someone right away, and even one of our own people."


    Jonathan covered his forehead and paced around the room to calm himself.


    Panicking would not help. There were still two official posts left to read... He had to finish reading those posts first, which often contained the most information.


    He walked to the kitchen, poured a ss of cold water, and gulped it down. As his thoughts cooled and he regained hisposure, he clicked on the second post��Exnation of yer Professions.


    The post''s opening read: "There are two main professions in this game."


    "Dispossessor, who gain power by hunting down and stripping special ability users of their super abilities."


    "Dispossessors cannot awaken super abilities on their own and cannot gain power from potions containing special powers. The only way for Dispossessor to advance is by stripping abilities from others, excluding themselves. The super abilities stripped from others cannot be upgraded. To further enhance or evolve the stripped abilities, they must hunt down and kill same-level others with the same abilities."


    "Walker, a profession that walks the world in human form to obtain power on par with the gods."


    "Walker can awaken super abilities on their own and can also obtain power from potions containing special forces. Compared to Dispossessor , Walker''s path to super abilities is not as treacherous. However, ability enhancement requires talent and opportunity. Some people can only reach a low level in their entire life, while others can gain power enough to rival the gods."


    After reading the introduction, Jonathan had a more concrete understanding of the game.


    Dispossessor followed a bloody path to advancement, while Walker followed a more traditional "leveling up" route.


    He read the replies below.


    1l: Who are the game officials?! I don''t want to y this game anymore! I want to quit!


    4l: Why set it up like this?! Is it fun to watch yers kill each other?


    13l: What would it be like if you exined these basic instructions before everyone entered the game?


    25l: So, Walker is just prey? We enhance our abilities and then wait to be hunted by Dispossessor?


    36l replying to 25l: We can fight back!


    48l: How many people in the game are Dispossessor, and how many are Walker? The number of Dispossessor should be much less than that of Walker, right? The current official list of more than 300 deceased people is all Walker.


    50l: Dispossessor can hunt people from the other world instead of yers, right? To those Dispossessor lurking around, try to be human; at least don''t harm your fellow yers.


    56l replying to 50l: Some people are already harming others; look at Dispossessor 331...


    60l replying to 50l: So, you can just casually kill people from the other world? Do you really think this is just a game? What game has real deaths? What game is this realistic? Every person is a living life!


    68l replying to 60l: Instead of letting Dispossessor target us, it''s better to let them harm people from the other world. I don''t want to die.


    Jonathan stopped scrolling the page and fixed his gaze on the 85l.


    85l: Is this the reason for the six pieces of advice given to us by the officials? Treat the game as a real world, and death is irreversible... And don''t reveal your yer identity to anyone. Once our yer identities are exposed, we will attract suspicion, imprisonment, interrogation, and experimentation from not only the people of the second world but also the pursuit and killing of the Dispossessor.


    86l replying to 85l: Dispossessor 331 has set a bad precedent. If there are other Dispossessors, they may follow 331''s example and hunt down Walker. Seven days have passed, and everyone must have some understanding of the second world. Think about it: is it easier to kill someone in the technologically advanced second world or in the technologically inferior first world? If we don''t rise up and fight back, we will eventually be prey for the Dispossessor! Don''t think everything will be fine by temporarily quitting the game. Our first world is also a hunting ground! A hunting ground for Dispossessor!


    In Jonathan''s view, the second world was cold and ruthless, but now the first world also developed a tendency towards the second world.


    He was ying a cyber game and a battle royale at the same time. He was a hunter, and the rest were prey. The prey didn''t want to be hunted down by the hunter, so they nned to fight back against the hunter.


    Jonathan exhaled, exited the second post, and began reading the third post about the basic game rules.


    "yers can travel between the two worlds but only have one life. If you die in either world, you cannot be revived."


    "The cycle of the first and second worlds is seven days. The login time is based on New York time, with the game starting at midnight and ending at midnight."


    "When staying in the first world, if a yer dies, the list of casualties will be updated in real-time. If a yer dies in the second world, the list of casualties will be announced when the yer returns."


    "For other rules, please continue exploring."


    Jonathan carefully read through the post and saw the reply to the first floor: "If there really is a hidden hand behind the game we''re participating in, then that hidden hand must be American; otherwise, why would we follow New York time..."


    If there really was a hidden hand, who was that hidden hand? Was it God?


    What was the purpose of God selecting so many yers to enter the second world? Or was there no meaning at all, and it was just a joke of the gods?


    Jonathan had finished reading all the official posts and returned to the forum homepage to read the yers'' posts one by one.


    "How do I quit the game? Can I call the police? Will reporting the incident work?!"


    1l: Quitting is impossible. When you sign the contract, you already miss your one chance to quit. Once the opportunity is missed, there won''t be another one. The officials have said that only two paths are avable: clearing the game or the character''s death.


    2l: Call the police if you''re not afraid of exposing your identity and being caught as ab rat. I don''t think governments can deal with such a bizarre situation. This isn''t war; it''s the intersection and fusion of two worlds. We are pioneers and experiences. Just live a peaceful life in the other world with an easy mindset, enjoying the glory of high technology. I think it''s worth it, like going on a trip.


    2l really has a good mindset... Jonathan decided to learn from him.


    "Can any deceased yers say something? Are they really dead? I can''t believe it..."


    1l: How can they make a sound if they''re dead? I''m inclined to believe that they are indeed dead.


    "How do you gain super ability? Has anyone awakened and can share some experience?"


    After several meaningless posts, a useful reply finally came.


    12l: I have awakened but don''t think I have any experience to share because I fell and then awakened. I won''t disclose my super ability to avoid being targeted.


    13l: What an incredible stroke of luck for you!


    "I believe we have traveled to a parallel world, and my arguments are as follows."


    1l (OP): My name in the second world is exactly the same as in the real world. As one of the 10,000 yers, I don''t think I am an exception. I believe other people''s names should be the same as in the first world.


    2l (OP): Although my appearance in the second world is not exactly the same as in the first world, it is very simr, probably about 70-80% simr! Moreover, the most important point is that my personality and interests in the second world are the same as those in the first world! There can''t be such a coincidence in the world. I don''t think I entered a game; I think I traveled to a parallel world and inhabited my parallel self''s body.


    3l: You are right, OP. I have to tell you, I have parents in the second world, while my parents in the first world passed away in a car ident a month ago. Guess what? My parents, in both worlds, look exactly the same! Their habits and tone of voice are very simr! I cried when I saw them for the first time after crossing over. I don''t want to quit this game at all. It''s a gift from heaven,pensation from fate. I can''t treat that world as fake; it''s real! I believe it''s real!


    4l (OP) replies to 3l: Best wishes, friend.


    5l: I also have parents and family in the second world, but they are different from my rtives in the first world. Maybe 3L is a rare exception.


    6l: Our appearances in both worlds are too simr, making exposing our identities very easy. Everyone should be careful.


    "I was on the toilet taking a dump when I returned to the first world. Now the question is, can I continue when I go back to the second world?"


    1l: You cross at midnight and return at midnight, so there''s no time difference. Don''t worry. When you go back, you will definitely be able to finish your business.


    Jonathan refreshed the forum again, and many new posts appeared.


    The title of one post caught his attention.


    "Public Enemy of yers - Dispossessor No. 331, no one should have any objections to this, right?"

 Chapter 32: Assimilation

    <h4>Chapter 32: Assimtion</h4>


    Jonathan indeed became the public enemy of the yers.


    He observed all the posts rted to No. 331 on the forum, and the attitudes of both the post authors and thementers were mostly very intense. Almost no one spoke up for him, and asionally, there were some calm, analyticalments, but the intense ones drowned them out.


    In post 62l, someone said: "I think there might be a hidden story to this thing. We didn''t know each other''s identities when we crossed to the second world. Can you tell who is a yer and who is a native inhabitant? You can''t. Perhaps No. 331 never intended to kill one of us."


    63l replied 62l, "Then who do you think No. 331 wanted to kill? A native from another world? Regardless of whether he wanted to kill native residents or yers, his intentions were very malicious."


    64l replied to 62l: "Your point is useless. Who cares about the reasons, consequences, and psychological journey of Dispossessor 331''s murdered people? People only care about the result �C he killed someone. There might be other Dispossessors among the yers, and they will imitate him and follow his example. yers killing yers will only be moremon in the future!"


    84l: "The thought of Dispossessor 331 possibly lurking and watching our posts gives me goosebumps. What does he think when he sees these posts? Panic, fear... or a cold smile?"


    85l: "If Dispossessor 331 killed someone due to some hardship, why doesn''t hee out and rify?"


    86l replied to 85l: "He''s not a fool. Who would step forward at such a critical moment? Even if he rified, would anyone believe him? Can we distinguish whether he is lying or telling the truth?"


    Immediately after, yers started to flood the post, calling for Dispossessor 331 toe out and exin.


    But Jonathan understood that he couldn''t exin.


    The yers were filled with fear, swept up by public opinion. How many were willing to dig deep, and how many only cared about the oue? The yers were in the return phase of their first crossover, which was the most irrational state. Everyone was panicked and frightened, desperately needing to vent, allowing the darkest aspects of human nature to be fully unleashed.


    If Jonathan were to exin and the yers continued to question him, what should he do? What if the yers asked him to recount the specific events of the murder? He couldn''t prove that he killed unintentionally, and others would always suspect that he did it intentionally.


    Jonathan could easily expose his identity information while proving himself, and the yers had taken over the roles of the native inhabitants of the second world. They had all sorts of identities in the second world; some were ordinary people, while others had moreplex roles, possibly holding high positions. If Jonathan identally revealed any information that he shouldn''t have, they might be able to trace it back to him.


    Actually, Jonathan had a stable mindset. He realized that as long as he didn''t respond to the issue, the yers wouldn''t be able to guess the true identity of Dispossessor 331. If they couldn''t guess, then he was safe.


    The biggest hidden danger was his appearance.


    Each yer''s appearance in the second world resembled their appearance in the first world to some extent.


    For example, Jonathan had medium-length hair in the first world and short hair in the second world. After returning to the first world, his hair didn''t shorten, and the wounds he had sustained from the scythe demon didn''t follow him back.


    Jonathan tapped his forehead, and based on touch, his metal skull hadn''t returned to the first world with him, but...


    He skillfully yed with a utility knife, showing off a dazzling trick.


    Jonathan''s inherent talents and super abilities had all returned with him.


    He currently possessed five inherent talents: Performance Persona, life Vitality, Danger Evasion, Rapid Learning, and the newly acquired Combat Instinct after entering the second world.


    Combat Instinct was a talent acquired from his second-world body, and this talent had perfectly merged with his first-world body. He could still use weapons and recall variousbat techniques.


    Jonathan put down his phone and started doing push-ups on his bed.


    To his surprise, he managed to do 50 push-ups in one go, a level he had never reached before. Normally, he struggled toplete even 10 push-ups, so doing 50 was simply unimaginable!


    At the same time, these 50 push-ups were far below the level he had achieved in his physical tests in the second world, where he could do more than 100 in a row. Moreover, Jonathan felt that his vision had be much clearer whether it was an illusion or not.


    He was originally slightly nearsighted, prescribed only 100 degrees, and asionally needed to wear sses in ss. Now, the slight blur was gone when he looked at the surrounding scenery.


    In the second world, he was a sharpshooter with excellent vision. Jonathan quickly realized that his bodies from the two worlds were bing more alike under the influence of an unknown force!


    The powerful physical abilities of his second-world body were transferred to his first-world body. Jonathan rummaged through his drawers to find a tape measure, stood on the floor, and measured his height. Thest time he had a physical exam, he was 1.7 meters tall, while his second-world height was 1.75 meters.


    Now, as he measured, his height had be 1.71 meters, growing by one centimeter, which seemed to be a natural growth caused by physical development.


    Jonathan went to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror, frowning as he examined his reflection. A yer''s appearance in the first and second worlds wasn''t 100% identical; his face in both worlds was about 70-80% simr but not exactly the same.


    Medium-length hair and short hair gave people different impressions. With medium-length hair, his temperament seemed more gloomy, and his resemnce to his second-world appearance seemed to have decreased somewhat. However, it still looked very simr when examined closely.


    In the second world, Jonathan was a city enforcer, dressed maturely and professionally and even a bit cold, exuding the air of an elite security officer.


    At a nce, his external image in the first and second worlds was quite different. He couldn''t continue like this, so Jonathan considered getting stic surgery.


    However, stic surgery was too expensive, and he couldn''t afford it now. So, he could only change his clothing and appearance, striving to be as different from his second-world self as possible.


    When he returned to the second world, perhaps he could start changing his appearance there, as it should be easier in that high-tech world. Jonathan suspected that many other yers would have simr ns since changing one''s face was far less troublesome than having one''s identity exposed.


    Thinking about returning to the second world, Jonathan''s calm mood stirred with waves of worry and anxiety.


    He had returned during a battle. Time didn''t flow while traveling between worlds, but this would significantly impact the battle situation. When he returned to the second world, he would be in big trouble if he couldn''t react quickly enough.


    Robert and Luke were reliable teammates, but Jonathan couldn''t put all his hope on them; it was better to rely on himself.


    Jonathan nced at the time: 00:53.


    It was midnight again. He washed his face in the bathroom and returned lying on the bed. This was his first night back, and he knew he could sleep peacefully without worrying about tomorrow.


    Wait!


    It seemed like he had forgotten something important. Jonathan checked his phone''s reminder app and saw the reminder clearly written: "9 a.m. interview for a summer job at a fast-food restaurant on the third floor of the central square."


    Jonathan: Ah, this... Is my fulfilling life about to start again?


    ...


    Jonathan got up, washed, and made himself a fried egg for breakfast. After eating, he sat at the table, staring nkly, unsure what to do for a moment. He felt a little unustomed after leaving the exciting second world and suddenly finding himself idle in the first world.


    Jonathan thought momentarily, pushed the small living room table aside to make some space, and began stretching his legs, twisting his body, doing push-ups and sit-ups, and engaging in basic exercise. He got up a bitte today but nned to wake up at 6 a.m. every day and jog on the riverbank behind the neighborhood.


    There was much room for improvement in his first-world physical abilities, so he had to train consistently and gradually. For the first few days, he could reduce his training volume in the investgation department to one-third and then slowly increase it as he adapted.


    Two hourster, Jonathan''s legs were trembling after finishing his workout, and he was drenched in sweat. He took a shower, massaged his muscles, and then headed out for his part-time job when the time came.


    Before leaving the house, Jonathan checked the forum again, and the discussions rted to Dispossessor 331 were still heated.


    He skipped them and read other posts. One of them was about calcting the yer density in different countries.


    "It''s interesting that when we entered the game, it was by reservation, and the gamepany disguised itself as an ordinary game. Applying for beta testing even required filling out a form online, not allowing minors or people over 60 to sign up... This way, we can eliminate many people, starting with minors and then excluding underdeveloped and impoverished areas with poor inte ess. Small countries in Africa and the Middle East can be ignored. I guess most yers are concentrated in economically developed areas."


    "Subtracting the poption of underdeveloped areas, minors, and the elderly, the range narrows down significantly. Friends, there are 10,000 yers worldwide; how many can each country get? Maybe yers will never meet each other in their lifetime, so there''s no need to worry too much about Dispossessoring after them, but we can''tpletely let our guard down either."


    Compared tost night, the forum had calmed down a bit, and there were more posts with serious analysis. Several threads discussed the possibility of forming teams in the other world, with yers wanting to create a reliable alliance to support each other in the second world.


    Other posts seriously analyzed the social structure and ss formation in the Second World, and some even wanted to steal the Second World''s technology to build up the First World.


    The thread starter said, " Those mechanical prosthetic technologies could help so many disabled people embrace a new life. And those information technologies, holographic projection, would bring tremendous changes to our world."


    Someone replied skeptically: "Yes, they can bring great changes, but they would also bring war. I never underestimate human greed and evil. If a country obtained these technologies, it would definitely use them for war. You bring back the technology, but do you have the power to stop the war?"


    In addition to these, there were some misceneous and unverifiable help-seeking posts.


    "On a smuggling boat, drifting for a week, I''m close to developing sepsis. Does anyone know the punishment if caught by the Coast Guard or simr departments?"


    "How can I solve the problem of not having a valid residence registration?"


    "Working as a gigolo at a nightclub, is there any chance to turn my life around?"


    "Help! How can I make a million within a month? I need it urgently for college!"


    For each help-seeking post, people were sincerely replying and trying to find solutions. The overall atmosphere on the forum was positive and constructive, with only threads rted to Dispossessor filled with conspiracy theories and paranoia.


    "Looking for information on Xenobiotics creatures, the more detailed, the better. Willing to pay for information through bank transfer or physical mail delivery. If you choose a bank transfer, it can be sent to an anonymous ount in a foreign bank. If you choose physical mail, I can send you gold. You decide the shipping address and method. There is no intention to pry into your identity, absolute trust. If interested, message me privately on the forum."


    Under this post, a yer asked, "What are Xenobiotics creatures?" Many other yers shared the same curiosity, as not every yer had the chance to encounter the dangerous species that the Federal Government was trying so hard to hide from the general public.


    Seeing the words "willing to pay," Jonathan was tempted.


    Replying to the post or sending private messages would expose his username but not his number. The problem was that his username was 331, the same as his number. However, the acquisition of the numbers was random, and the numbers represented the registration order on the forum. Jonathan was the 331st user to register on the forum, so his number was 331.


    After some hesitation, he decided to observe for a while and see if anyone else with information about Xenobiotics creatures would reply to the thread. He couldn''t rush into such matters �C he needed money but also had to be cautious with his life.

 Chapter 33: "Regional Mission Triggered"

    <h4>Chapter 33: "Regional Mission Triggered"</h4>


    Upon entering the eatery, Jonathan was greeted by the tantalizing aroma.


    "You''ve arrived," the supervisor said, taking inventory.


    "May I help you?" Jonathan inquired. "Where are the others?"


    "Diema will be here shortly to take over," the supervisor replied.


    As Jonathan chatted with the supervisor, Diema arrived��a striking young woman regarded him curiously from the doorway. "Hello, I''m Diema. Are you new here?"


    "Hello, I''m Jonathan," he responded with a nod.


    Diema and Jonathan were of simr age, yet anyone who saw them together would presume Jonathan to be the elder of the two. His eyes and demeanor bespoke a maturity that lent him an air of genuine adulthood, while Diema, sheltered within a happy home and yet to step into the world, exuded the essence of youth. Her countenance still bore traces of innocent naivety, revealing her emotions unguardedly.


    Jonathan found Diema''s features vaguely familiar for some reason, as if he had seen her somewhere before, but he could not quite ce it.


    With superior looks and the potential to rival a star when properly adorned, Diema was exceptionally beautiful.


    A star?!


    A sudden sh of inspiration struck Jonathan, and he recalled where he had seen Diema''s face before��it was on a billboard advertisement for The Second World.


    He had once observed the ads with a curious fascination, noting the myriad real and virtual faces. Diema''s visage was strikingly simr to a celebrity in The Second World.


    Jonathan surmised that Diema was quite possibly a yer!


    At six o''clock in the evening, Jonathan declined Diema''s invitation to a gathering and made his way home alone. On the way, his phone vibrated with a message from the Meteorological Agency warning of an impending downpour. ncing skyward, he saw dark clouds obscuring the evening sky and sensed that rain was imminent.


    He hurriedly dashed into the subway station, hoping to reach home before the rain began. Caught amidst the rush hour crowd, he found himself jostled by the masses as he struggled to board the subway.


    "Good grief, this news is horrifying," two young passengers whispered on the crowded subway. "The whole family is dead... It''s the work of a cult."


    Ever since his constitution and senses had mysteriously begun to merge with the second world, Jonathan found that his physical strength, agility, and perception had improved remarkably. Effortlessly, he overheard the conversation amidst the din of the subway.


    "Did he kill his entire family? Has he gone mad? He looked so normal," one of them said.


    "Who wouldn''t go crazy believing in a cult? The police have issued a warrant, with a reward of a hundred thousand dors..."


    Upon catching these keywords, Jonathan nervously pulled out his phone and searched the news. He remembered Martin mentioning that the secret cult in The Second World consumed the God Blood andmitted heinous acts like human sacrifices, leading to the government intensifying its crackdown on religious groups.


    Those who ingested the divine blood underwent physical transformations and eventually lost their sanity.


    This was Jonathan''s first day back, and he couldn''t help but worry.


    As soon as he opened his phone, a news article appeared about the police warrant. The suspect''s description, residence, and alleged crimes were detailed concisely. ording to the warrant, the suspect had developed mental issues after worshipping an evil deity, leading him to murder his entire family.


    The suspect had been killed the night before and fled. rmingly, the crime scene was quite close to the city where Jonathan resided��only a neighboring city away, a mere twenty to thirty minutes distance.


    "Regional Mission Triggered," a holographic screen suddenly appeared before Jonathan''s eyes. His pupils constricted, and a sense of dread washed over him. Why was a mission being triggered in the real world?!


    Jonathan had only ever triggered one mission��the "Investigate the Harbor Explosion" quest he had epted upon first entering The Second World. That mission remained unfinished.


    He could never have anticipated that his first-world self would trigger a mission, especially a regional one��a mission he had never encountered before.


    "[Mission Description]: Unforeseen circumstances have arisen in the familiar region of your hometown. The once peaceful city is disturbed, and the stable life you knew is disrupted by mysterious shadows and extraordinary powers invading your life. To preserve the tranquility and stability of your hometown, you may have a duty to investigate this dreadful incident thoroughly.


    "As a regional mission, you are not the only one to receive the mission invitation. Other yers living in the same area have also received the mission promptly. You can choose to coborate or investigate independently."


    "You may choose to ept or decline the mission."


    "eptance entails certain risks, while rejection provides temporary respite, as the likelihood of trouble seeking you out is low."


    [Mission Content]: Investigate the cultist murder case."


    At that moment, Jonathan could no longer hear the noise of the bustling subway car. Clutching the handrail, he remained motionless until the subway reached its stop, and only then did he follow the crowd off the subway.


    The difference between the First and Second Worlds grew even smaller, leaving Jonathan uneasy. Two worlds, two game fields��Cyber Online and Earth Online.


    The reality in which Jonathan found himself was changing, bing unfamiliar to him. It seemed that as his two bodies converged, so too did the First and Second Worlds.


    He considered that the physical merging might not be limited to himself but rather a shared phenomenon among all yers. However, most other yers were ordinary people whose physical improvements were less significant than Jonathan''s.


    Yet, if a yer happened to cross over and be a secret cult member, ingesting the god blood, which transformed their body, what would happen when they returned to the First World? Would their body undergo simr mutations? Would their minds plunge into madness like the cultists of the secret organization? Could the murderer who killed his entire family and fled into the night be a yer?


    As Jonathan exited the subway, the rain began to fall. He sprinted through the downpour, heading home. The heavy rain involuntarily reminded him of the days just after he had first crossed into The Second World when it rained daily in ck Sea City.


    Upon entering his home, he immediately pulled out his phone to check the forums.


    "Let''s exchange code words, California, regional mission."


    1l: I''m several cities from where the case urred, but I still received a mission trigger notification. Howrge is the coverage area of this regional mission?


    2l: It might be the entire state of California; I received it too. Will anyone choose to ept the mission? It''s too dangerous.


    3l: I wonder how many yers are in California?


    4l replies to 3l: There should be around seventy based on the poption ratio.


    5l: What are you guys talking about? What''s this regional mission?


    6l: It''s too terrifying... Is this still the hometown we know? I''m scared, everyone. The danger is too close to us. For the first time in my life, my hometown feels so unfamiliar. Returning to the First World hasn''t taken us away from danger; on the contrary, the danger has approached our lives with the return of the yers. This is not how our world should be.


    Jonathan turns off his phone, changes his clothes and shoes, and stands by the window, gazing at his city.


    Through the hazy rain curtain, neon lights dazzle, yet he is in a dark, dpidated neighborhood. Below are broken cobblestone streets and damaged streetlights, detached from the prosperous city area. This era is developing too fast; a city has two appearances, splendid and rundown, coexisting simultaneously.


    In that instant, Jonathan had a severe illusion, as if he was still in ck Sea City instead of his hometown. Jonathan didn''t like the Second World; he didn''t want his current reality to be tainted by things from the Second World.


    Awakened ones, Heterobloods, secret organizations, cultists... These things shouldn''t exist. And yet, these things are transforming his world and even himself beyond recognition.


    The world is spiraling out of control, life trajectories deviate, and the peaceful life has be chaotic.


    However, fate is like a wild horse broken free from Jonathan''s control.


    As the mission description said, the once peaceful city is no longer tranquil, and the stable life is no longer stable. The ordinary daily life has gone far away from him, and after experiencing swords and fighting at the brink of life and death, it''s hard for him to return to his previous life.


    Yet even so, Jonathan still wants to do his best to protect thisnd, not for the mission or others, but for himself, just for himself.


    To do this, he must sweep away the things polluting his world individually.


    "I ept the mission," Jonathan silently said in his heart.


    "You have epted the mission."


    "[Mission Progress]: 0."


    Jonathan noticed that the missions issued by the game system had a unique characteristic: they didn''t provide explicit directions. It said "investigate," not "deal with." In in terms, all the missions issued by the game system only provided a direction for the mission executors. As for whether to kill the target or take additional actions afterpleting the mission, the game system didn''t impose any restrictions.


    This greatly increased freedom, and Jonathan could do whatever he wanted. The mission issued by the game system served as a reminder, a warning, and an rm telling him that his life had changed.


    Therefore, Jonathan epted the mission with apletely different mindset than before. When he took on the mission to investigate the bombing case, he genuinely wanted to determine the cause and consequences. However, now that he epted the mission to investigate the cultist murder case, he was not aiming for the investigation but to "eliminate."


    Like the Investigation Department that eliminates heterogenous creatures and captures Heterobloods, Jonathan intended to clean up all the polluting factors and unstable elements around him,pletely eliminate them, and leave no hidden troubles.


    Jonathan gazed at the city''s neon lights outside the window, lost in deep thought for a long time. Ten minutester, he turned on his phone and saw that the posts in the forum asking about heterogenous creature intelligence still had no replies, rted threads were nk, and responses were scarce.


    So, Jonathan posted his first thread since joining the forum: "Exining what Xenobiotics creature are, what secret cult are, and what Heterobloods are."

 Chapter 34: "What if you lose your life?"

    <h4>Chapter 34: "What if you lose your life?"</h4>


    OP: Xenobiotics creatures are dangerous, alien-like monsters in the second world since ancient times. The federal government conceals the existence of xenobiotic creatures from ordinary people. Xenobiotic creaturese in different varieties, and their traces can be found onnd and in the ocean. The federal government, along with corporations and research institutes, clears and captures these creatures for research purposes.


    The federal government ssifies secret cults as illegal religious organizations. The second world prohibits any form of religious beliefs and religious organizations, all of which are considered illegal. Secret organizations believe in "gods," calling Xenobiotics creatures the remnants of ancient gods. Secret cults engage in hidden and cruel religious activities.


    The birth of Heterobloods has intricate connections with xenobiotic creatures and secret cults. A special potion called "god blood" can be extracted from the blood of Xenobiotic creatures. Upon consumption, the individual acquires power far beyond that of an ordinary person. Those who obtain super abilities in this way are called Heterobloods. However, there is a price for acquiring this power. Under the erosion of the god blood, Heterobloods gradually lose their sanity and be insane. Their bodies also have a high probability of experiencing mutations, and their ultimate fate may be death.


    1F: Holy cow, you''re amazing!


    2F: Is this what separates yers? While some are still struggling with hardbor and working like ves, you already have ess to confidential information that''s hard for ordinary people to ess.


    3F: My goodness, so much information... I need a moment to process it all.


    4F: Did I see that correctly? The OP''s username is 331? What kind of eerie power does this number have?


    5F: The world is too dangerous; I want to return to my hometown! I scream a thousand times daily that I want to quit the game!


    Jonathan seemed to have exined a lot, but he only touched upon the surface of things. Xenobiotic creatures, god blood, secret cults, and Heterobloods are all closely connected. If you want to introduce one aspect, you must also introduce the others.


    Jonathan mentioned the god blood as one of the three purposes of Xenobiotics creatures, but he glossed over the medical and material science fields with the vague term "research." He also didn''t mention the specific forms of cooperation between the federal government and corporate research institutes.


    Despite this, this information is already quite valuable for ordinary yers, and they need time to digest it.


    The second world is not only a highly technologically advanced world but also a world hiding mysterious and unpredictable forces. yers who travel to the Second World mostly only encounter its highly advanced technological side, and they don''t clearly understand the hidden side with mysterious and unpredictable forces.


    Jonathan''s exnation can be said to havepletely opened the door to the second world for them, giving them aprehensive understanding of it.


    Jonathan refreshed the thread and saw the number of replies growing rapidly, with updates almost every second. Some people were so shocked that they posted several question marks and exmation marks in a row.


    6F: The OP is such a kind person! The neighboring thread for trading Xenobiotics creatures has been up for a day, but the OP didn''t participate in the trade and instead shared the information for free with everyone!


    7F: Why is the OP''s username 331???


    8F: What is the rtionship between the OP and Dispossessor 331?!


    Other yers also noticed Jonathan''s username and questions and doubts kepting. More than a dozen floors were filled with inquiries about the username.


    26F: It''s just an ordinary number. There are actually many people who use numbers as usernames, and a search online will yield a lot of them. This 331 OP probably has no special connection with Dispossessor 331, as yer numbers are random, and it''s not necessarily the case that the OP happens to be the 331st person to register for the forum.


    27F replying to 26F: That makes sense. The OP probably didn''t think much about it when registering, and no one knew that we would all be crossing over. None of us expected to be transported to another world.


    28F replying to 26F: Although what you said makes sense, it''s still too coincidental. I''ve been scrolling through the forum all day and now have a conditioned response to the number 331. Whenever I see it, I get chills.


    29F replying to 28F: Same here. I have a psychological shadow over this number.


    30F replying to 28F: Me too...


    31F: I''m with you guys above; you''re not alone!


    32F: After learning about Dispossessor 331''s deeds, the number 331 has be synonymous with evil in my eyes...


    The replies were refreshing too quickly.


    Some yers read the information but did not carefully analyze it with a critical mind. To put it bluntly, their thinking hadn''t been fully transformed, and without anyone pointing it out, they didn''t realize the significance of the information they received. They even had the mood to discuss and chat about the number 331.


    On the other hand, another group of smarter and far-sighted yers analyzed Jonathan''s exnation word by word. They didn''t focus on superficial details; instead, they paid full attention to the content of the first post. Whether the OP who provided the exnation and Dispossessor 331 were rted was not the most important thing to them.


    The important thing was the information itself! Skipping over the meaningless chat and idle talk, a yer posted a rtively long analysis a few minutester.


    69F: First of all, thank you, OP, for the free exnation. However, I have many doubts and spections in my heart. I would like to share them here in hopes of inspiring further discussion. If the OP could answer my questions, I would be extremely grateful.


    Xenobiotic creatures have existed in the second world since ancient times. How far back do these "ancient times" go? I have some knowledge of the myths and legends of various cultures, and I know that humans often "mythologize" their history. Sometimes, many stories and content from legends can be traced back to corresponding historical events and objects. If Xenobiotic creatures have existed since ancient times, can we find any clues by examining the historical records of the second world? The history of the Federation unifying the globe is less than a hundred years old. If hiding the existence of Xenobiotic creatures is the Federation''s policy, did ordinary people know about them before the Federation was established? How did they fight against Xenobiotic creatures?


    The OP mentioned that the Federation government, corporations, and research institutes eliminate and study Xenobiotic creatures, which means theirbat abilities should not be strong enough to defeat firearms and awakened individuals... However, it is not ruled out that some particrly powerful individuals are among them. What surprises me is that the second world is actually researching Xenobiotic creatures. What are they researching? God blood? Are they also studying something else besides divine blood?


    All cult beliefs and activities are illegal, indicating that the Federation government is suppressing secret cults. The birth of Heterobloods should be closely rted to secret cults. Does the Federation arrest cultists and Heterobloods? Are they studying Xenobiotics creatures to find a way to counteract god blood, or do they have other goals?


    I am very curious about god blood. What is its principle of action and extraction process? Can it be mass-produced? What are the chances and severity of mutations after consuming it? Are there more Heterobloodspared to awakened ones? How do theirbat abilitiespare?


    Clearly, yer 69F thought deeply about the content Jonathan posted in just a few minutes, and his spections were mostly correct and focused on the key points.


    Jonathan did not intend to reply to 69F, nor would he reply to anyone in this post.


    He had already said what needed to be said and done what he wanted to do. He provided hints, and how others would think or specte was beyond his concern.


    Jonathan could provide some limited exnations, but he would not say too much, as that would expose himself.


    With 69F leading the discussion, the number of people analyzing the post in the thread increased noticeably.


    72F: Thank you, OP, for the exnation. I also have some doubts and would like to ask, are the real gods worshiped by secret cults? Or are their gods just religious symbols? Could there be a real god in the second world who rules over his or her followers?


    73F: Damn, don''t scare me. This feels creepy.


    74F: With something like crossing over happening, is it strange for there to be gods in the second world?


    75F: I''ve been an atheist all my life, but recent events have shattered my worldview, and my faith is wavering.


    76F: Since crossing over, my worldview has been breaking and reassembling daily.


    89F: Is the OP there? Have you been paying attention to the regional missions in the California area? Is the crazy cultist who killed his entire family and fled rted to the secret cults in the second world? Is the killer a yer?


    90F replying to 89F: What are you talking about?


    91F replying to 90F: Search for news online with keywords like "cult" and "mass murder."


    92F: I saw that news. Some photos are circting online, allegedly taken by a neighbor who entered the house when they saw the door open. They found bodies everywhere and blood drawn in cult symbols, which scared them into calling the police. The killer murdered his parents, wife, and children before running away in the middle of the night. Surveince cameras captured him, and a wanted notice with a $100,000 reward.


    93F: Absolutely inhuman...


    94F: If the killer is rted to the secret cults of the Second World, aren''t yers going to investigate just asking for death? Look at the killer''s brutality; hisbat abilities won''t be low, and his mental state is likely unstable. Not everyone has awakened super ability. I''ve been browsing the forum for a day, and including yers from other countries, fewer than five have admitted to awakening super abilities. Some may be faking it for attention, while others might not have spoken up.


    95F: It is said that all yers in California received a mission alert. I''m also from California and advise everyone not to join in the excitement. What if you lose your life?

 Chapter 35: "No wonder Fox can eat so much"

    <h4>Chapter 35: "No wonder Fox can eat so much"</h4>


    The discussion in Jonathan''s post was intense; asionally, some people would ask what happened in French or Japanese.


    Jonathan looked and then exited the thread to return to the forum homepage. As expected, a few new posts analyze the person''s identity in the post.


    "Detailed analysis of whether poster 331 in the adjacent informative thread and Dispossessor 331 are the same people."


    OP: As we all know, once you enter the forum, your nickname is fixed. First, you fill in a nickname, and then the order in which you enter the forum is your yer number. The order is not transparent, meaning there is some randomness to the yer number assignment.


    If the informative poster next door is Dispossessor 331, how did he know in advance to set his own nickname to 331? So, I think the probability that the informative poster next door and Dispossessor 331 are the same person is minimal but not impossible... after all, various coincidences exist in this world.


    1F: What nonsense are you talking about?


    3F: What you''re saying is essentially meaningless... You can''t confirm that he is Dispossessor 331, nor can youpletely deny it.


    4F (OP): Well, what can I do? Unless the 331 posteres forward to admit or deny it, we can''t rule out the suspicion.


    5F replying to 4F (OP): What difference would it make if he admitted or denied it? We still couldn''t confirm if he''s telling the truth; it''s a deadlock.


    6F: I think the informative poster next door sharing such important information is not a bad person. I personally think they (not sure if it''s a man or woman, so I''ll use "they") have nothing to do with the Dispossessor. Theirck of reply might just be to avoid revealing their identity.


    7F: I also tend to think that the informative poster next door is not Dispossessor... unless Dispossessor 331 has a performative personality that likes to attract attention. He might enjoy watching us guessing and being unable to figure out who he was.


    "Deep Analysis of the Identity of the Informative Poster 331 Next Door."


    First post: One thing is clear - ordinary people cannot ess information about Xenobiotics creatures. The informative poster next door is definitely not an ordinary person. So, I boldly specte that the informative poster''s identity in the Second World is at least somewhat rted to the three parties above.


    Is the informative poster a government official, a member of a corporation, or an Xenobiotics creature researcher?


    We can boldly specte.


    1F: The scope is too broad; we can''t figure it out.


    2F: Is it possible that the informative poster next door is an awakened person? Or, as others have spected, is he Dispossessor 331 himself?


    3F: I think it''s best not to post this kind of identity-digging thread. If the informative poster next door thinks that your exploration of his identity threatens him, he probably won''t post any more informative content in the future. Certainly, he is not ordinary and knows more than we do. I feel that he is taking a risk by sharing this information at this critical moment, and it''s remarkable. I don''t want his identity to be exposed; maybe he can teach us more and provide us with more information in the future. If his identity is exposed, will he continue to share information with us?


    4F replying to 3F: I agree.


    5F replying to 3F: I think so too.


    6F: The third floor is overly worried. I believe that the informative poster next door must have considered everything carefully before posting the information. He is not afraid of his identity being exposed, and our search scope is too broad. We don''t know which city he is in or what force he belongs to, and we know nothing. The possibility of the informative poster''s identity being exposed is virtually zero.


    7F: I''m wondering if the informative poster next door decided to share the information because they saw the cult murder case in California and the regional mission. The timing is coincidental.


    8F: The spection from the floor above is very likely.


    9F replying to 7F: Are you suggesting that the informative poster next door might be from California?


    10F replying to 9F: No, no, no, that''s not what I meant. I think the informative poster might have shared the information because he didn''t want to see California yers get killed. From his information, we can see that the Xenobiotics creature possesses extraordinary abilities, definitely much stronger than ordinary people.


    11F: Today is the first day of the return and the most critical time. I think we don''t need to overthink the intention of the informative poster next door. Perhaps he decided to share the information with us after careful consideration, and it has nothing to do with California.


    12F: In any case, the informative post next door is definitely beneficial for all yers. He has done a great thing. If California yers epted missions without knowing what a cult or Xenobiotics creature is, wouldn''t there be deaths? Knowing what Xenobiotics creatures are, they will consider carefully before epting missions.


    13F: I believe that impulsive yers are a minority, and I also believe that the informative poster next door shares the information with good intentions. His information is useful for all yers.


    After reading through several passionately discussed threads, Jonathan was confident that his informative post had achieved the desired effect.


    Some people doubted, supported, questioned, and praised him.


    The essence of humanity is to admire strength. He didn''t have to do much, just a little insignificant thing to guide the yers.


    Jonathan was now truly a hunter, thinking like a hunter. He had his eyes on prey and didn''t want others to interfere with it. So, he used some means to exclude other hunters from the hunting operation. But hunters are resourceful, and Jonathan couldn''t control their actions or break their legs to immobilize them, so he threw out some information as a deterrent.


    The effect was satisfactory. Except for those who wanted to die or were not afraid of death, other yers retreated, realizing that the water was too deep and that stepping in would lead to drowning.


    Besides deterrence, Jonathan''s release of this information also had other considerations, and he wouldn''t act blindly. He made sure that such a choice wouldn''t threaten him before taking this step.


    Jonathan looked at the time, and it was Thursday. He had to go to his part-time job on Friday and had the weekend off.


    Hunting prey in two days was a tight schedule and challenging, but Jonathan was willing to take on the challenge. He plugged in his phone to charge, closed the curtains, and tried activating the super ability "Shadow Travel" he had taken from Sean for the first time.


    Invisible shadows enveloped his body, turning his figure into an invisible ck mist. Jonathan disregarded spatial distance and instantly moved from the living room to the kitchen beside the refrigerator.


    "The maximum distance is three meters? It seems like it could be increased a little more..." After the pleasant surprise, Jonathan tried to move again, this time attempting to "phase through" the wall.


    Then, his misty body ignored the barrier and passed through the solid wall into the bedroom. On the third attempt, Jonathan picked up a thick rolling pin to see if he could bring a weapon along. However, this attempt failed; his body moved, but the rolling pin fell to the ground as it passed through his misty body during the ability''s activation.


    Jonathan pondered, "Is the influencing factor weight or volume? I can take the clothes I''m wearing with me..."


    He thought about it and reced the rolling pin with a kitchen knife. This time, the shadow travel was sessful; the knife turned into mist along with his body, crossing the space to a shadowy area. It seemed that the influencing factor was volume, and only objects with a smaller volume could be taken away by the shadow travel.


    The shadow travel ability taken from Sean was only an E-level ability. If its level could be increased, the moving range would likely be higher, and the object volume carried would berger. Even so, Shadow Travel was already a rare life-saving technique.


    Jonathan practiced shadow travel for two full hours, and his coordinates went from imprecise to precise. The specific volume of the objects he could carry was determined after several attempts, and he could pass through most objects when his body was misty, so he didn''t need to worry about getting stabbed by a knife.


    Practicing super abilities seemed to excessively consume energy and make one hungry faster. Two hourster, Jonathan failed to activate his ability in extreme hunger. His body flickered in ce but didn''t travel.


    "No wonder Fox can eat so much." Jonathan felt emotional as he cooked two servings of noodles and fried two eggs for himself.


    He had to eat well and be full to continue practicing. Hunters needed to sharpen their skills to be urate and swift when taking down their prey.

 Chapter 36: "How many times have I been killed now?"

    <h4>Chapter 36: "How many times have I been killed now?"</h4>


    Jonathan discovered an awkward fact during his repeated super ability training: if he didn''t wear clothes, the volume of objects he could carry would increase.


    He discovered this because he managed to obtain an expired firefighter''s mask from themunity guard. He wanted to use it to fully cover his face without any blind spots so that he wouldn''t expose his face during his actions.


    Jonathan nned to wear long clothes to cover his body when he was in action. He had prepared the clothes, put on the mask, and tried to travel while holding the weapon. However, the long-handled boning knife he prepared couldn''t be carried; only a smaller dagger barely worked.


    Later, he tried to adjust his clothes and items and finally concluded that clothes were also included in the volume of objects that could be carried while traveling. To carry more weapons, he had to wear less clothing and carry less equipment.


    Indeed, he couldn''t have high expectations for an E-level super ability. It would be nice to have a gun at this time. Guns are small, lightweight, easy to carry, and can be taken smoothly during shadow travel.


    Unfortunately, he couldn''t get a gun, so he had to focus on other weapons. Jonathan couldn''t abandon his clothes and mask disguise; he had to find suitable weapons. He took a piece of paper and listed the options: switchdes, tri-edged spikes, Swiss army knives, butterfly knives, daggers... these weapons were of the perfect size and had decent lethality.


    After writing down the list of weapons, Jonathan looked up their prices. Well, they were a bit expensive, so he could only shift his focus to kitchen knives. High-quality kitchen knives were also very sharp, with good strength and toughness.


    He carefully examined the knives, and before paying, he asked the store clerk, "Do these knives easily roll or chip their edges?"


    Clerk: "Our knives are made of high-quality materials, so they don''t easily roll or chip their edges."


    Jonathan: "How about cutting meat?"


    Clerk: "Incredibly smooth."


    Jonathan: "And chopping bones?"


    Clerk: "I would rmend not choppingrge bones, as knives need maintenance. However, the effect of deboning along the bone seems to be top-notch! Everyone who has used it says it''s great!"


    Jonathan: "How about the connection between the de and the handle? Will ite loose?"


    Clerk: "No customer has ever reported such a situation. Our connection process between the handle and the de is top-notch in the industry. Please rest assured and buy with confidence!"


    Jonathan was satisfied and paid cheerfully.


    Jonathan jogged along the river embankment for two consecutive days in the dim morning light. He panted and ran 5 kilometers, followed by basic joint and limb stretching exercises to help his body adapt to high-intensity exercise.


    After the workout, Jonathan sat in the rest area, massaging his muscles. An old man nearby was listening to the local radio station''s morning news on a radio, which happened to be broadcasting the suspect''s whereabouts in the believer''s murder case.


    "...It is reported that the suspect has fled to San Diego..." Upon hearing the news broadcast, Jonathan was stunned.


    San Diego was the city he lived in. What a coincidence!


    At this moment, Jonathan didn''t feel surprised or panicked; on the contrary, he was joyful. He had a marvelous feeling of being a hunter sharpening his knife, only for the prey to willinglye to his doorstep.


    The old man in the sweatshirt wondered, "How has this guy not been caught yet? "


    "Who knows? Well, we''d better not go out too much these days. The murderer hase to our city," the olddy beside him said.


    Jonathan stopped listening to the radio and took out his phone to search for the news. As expected, thetest news report was about the suspect fleeing to San Diego. Surveince cameras captured his tracks, releasing the footage to the public. The suspect wore a baseball cap, dressed, and walked very normally. Nobody could tell that he was a psychopathic lunatic.


    He even went to a roadside convenience store to buy a bottle of water and some food with cash, eating as he walked, his expression calm andposed.


    The store owner didn''t recognize him, but from his facial features, he was indeed the suspect in the cult''s murder case.


    Jonathan''s expression grew serious. The suspect was too calm, not ordinary prey. He knew he had killed someone, but he was not panicked. He knew he was wanted and being pursued but showed no fear. What was even more bizarre to Jonathan was that he had killed his family members, yet he acted as if nothing had happened��almost unnaturally normal.


    The more normal the suspect appeared, the more Jonathan felt he was a terrifying madman.


    Why did the suspect flee to San Diego?


    No... He wasn''t fleeing. He didn''t show the slightest sign of being on the run. Instead, he seemed to havee to San Diego deliberately... as if he was after something.


    Jonathan was startled by his sudden guess, his eyes bing more serious as he exhaled.


    Cross-city murder investigations were much more difficult than local ones. San Diego was Jonathan''s home ground, the ce he knew best. The suspect''s arrival here would make Jonathan''s actions much more convenient.


    On his way home, Jonathan suddenly had a twisted and chaotic intuition �C he felt the suspect in the cult''s murder case was for him.


    With so many cities avable for him to flee to and choose from, why would the suspecte to the city where Jonathan lived?


    Jonathan felt a chill run down his spine.


    "You have enhanced your inherent talent."


    "Your inherent talent, Danger Avoidance, has been upgraded to Absolute Premonition."


    "Absolute Premonition: You have repeatedly foreseen the course of fate under the guidance of your intuition. This is a warning from the future, the ultimate sixth sense. You can not only predict and avoid danger but also the elusive and imprable fate."


    ...


    Semanuick woke up in an abandoned factory in San Diego, his expression gloomy. He got up and kicked a brick before him, biting his finger and pacing nervously, "How many times have I been killed now?"


    Was it the third or fourth time? He couldn''t quite remember. Multiple deaths had made his memory a bit hazy, a side effect of repeatedly rewinding time.


    Semanuick sat down and carefully thought about it. He checked his phone to confirm the date and calcted that this was his fourth death.


    Each death left a deep impression on him.


    Semanuick''s superpower was the cycle of death and rebirth. With each death, his time would rewind to a few days earlier, and as the number of deaths increased, the time frame of each rewind shortened. For example, when he died for the first time, he rewound three days earlier. The second time, he rewound it two days earlier, and the third time was one day earlier.


    The first death happened on Monday. He fell off a high-rise building and fell to pieces.


    The second time was on Sunday. He firmly believed he was killed the previous time because he wasn''t careful enough. If he had been quick enough and prepared to deal with the extraordinary power of shadow traversal, that guy would be no way to defeat him.


    However, reality gave Semanuick a hard p. The man cut his spinal cord, rendering him immobile, dragged him to the window, and threw him off the building again.


    The third time was on Saturday. Semanuick knew that the man was looking for him to hunt him down, so he relied on his foresight to wait for him on the man''s inevitable path, hoping to ambush him. But the man seemed to have a radar in the back of his head, avoiding Semanuick''s lethal attack and taking him down with a counterattack.


    Semanuick seriously suspected that the man had a special predilection for abuse. He wouldn''t just kill him directly but instead throw him off a building twice in a row! However, he wasn''t thrown off the building the third time but was left with a severed spine and kicked into a pond. The man watched as Semanuick sank to the bottom, suffocating to death.


    Semanuick had no choice but to beg his all-knowing, omnipotent God for revtion. To obtain enough revtion, Semanuick killed a few more people to offer enough sacrifices to God.


    God responded to him.


    God told him the general location of the man.


    Semanuick was overjoyed and immediately rushed to San Diego, intending to strike first.


    However, he died again, still at the hands of that man and still by drowning in a pond.


    This time, instead of rewinding to the day before, he woke up on the same day.


    If he didn''t make any changes, he would still be caught and killed by that male hunter.


    His next death was scheduled for tonight!

 Chapter 37: "You know me. You know my abilities"

    <h4>Chapter 37: "You know me. You know my abilities"</h4>


    Semanuick realized that he couldn''t continue putting himself in harm''s way. He refused to believe that the male hunter killed him in the first two instances. That was all because he wasn''t careful enough. The third and fourth times, he became more and more cautious, but neither ambushing nor striking first worked. The hunter seemed like a perfect killing machine, able to quickly adjust and counterattack even with slight weakness.


    In modern society, how could such a person exist? Was he a professional killer? What was his identity in the second world?


    Semanuick racked his brain to recall the details of each time he was killed.


    The hunter first killed him in Los Angeles, his hometown. He was obsessed with selecting his next sacrifice target, spending two nights prowling the streets, even killing one, and hiding the body in a sewer. At dawn, he would sneak into a nearby vacant building to hide and rest.


    At that time, on a Monday morning, the hunter suddenly appeared while Semanuick was resting. He drew his knife and attacked. Semanuick tried to fight back but couldn''t even touch the hunter''s clothes. He turned and fled, but the man could teleport through shadows, following him like a cat chasing a mouse, deliberately or unintentionally driving him to the rooftop. Finally, with nowhere left to run, Semanuick was kicked in the jaw by the hunter, breaking it, and then thrown off the building.


    In the second world, Semanuick awakened his superpowers by drinking god blood, and at the same time, his physique was transformed, granting him extraordinary healing abilities. However, even with this, his skull would shatter, and he would die instantly upon hitting the ground after falling from the building. His healing ability was useless once he was dead.


    The second time the hunter killed him, the date was moved up by one day, on a Sunday night.


    Semanuick was at a stage of overconfidence after awakening his superpowers. Who could kill him? No one could kill him! He was immortal! He attributed his first failure to an ident, and as long as he was more careful, went to ces without shadows, and didn''t let be led by the hunter, the hunter wouldn''t be able to kill him.


    Semanuick was eager to avenge the hunter and nned to get his hands on a suitable weapon. He wanted to rob a police officer and take a gun, but it was too difficult to implement, so he settled for stealing arge machete from a butcher''s shop. Since he had killed people, the police were after him, and city security patrols became more frequent, with many officers carrying weapons. Being shot in the forehead with a bullet would be fatal.


    On Sunday night, Semanuick disguised himself and bought food at a convenience store. An old, near-sighted woman saw through his disguise and recognized him as a wanted criminal, pressing the rm button.


    Semanuick killed the old woman, grabbed the food, and fled. Then the nightmare began; the hunter happened to live nearby. He heard the convenience store''s shrill rm and came out to investigate. Seeing the fleeing Semanuick, he pulled out a gleaming kitchen knife from his waist and chased after him.


    Unfortunately, the machete was difficult to carry, so Semanuick didn''t take it when he went to buy food. Even more unfortunate was that the hunter''s powers were maximized during the night because shadows were everywhere. His ability to teleport had virtually no limitations!


    The hunter easily caught up, still employing the cat-and-mouse strategy, leaving Semanuick nowhere to run. Semanuick was lured once again to a dead-end��this time, a nearby construction site.


    If Semanuick didn''t follow the hunter''s intended path, the hunter would suddenly appear behind him and stab him in the waist, causing Semanuick to scream in pain and lose his sanity,pletely oblivious to the direction he was running.


    After being stabbed over twenty times by the hunter, Semanuick suddenly realized he had been again driven to a building. He turned to counterattack, but the hunter easily shed his spine with the knife, paralyzing him and rendering him unable to move. The hunter then dragged him to the window and threw him down.


    After his third death and resurrection, Semanuick calmed down and sorted out the information.


    The hunter had superpowers, so he must be a yer. As a Californian, he must have received the mission prompt to investigate the cult''s murder cases. Having been killed twice in a row, Semanuick was sure the hunter had a strong purpose��his target was to kill him, and he indeed seeded.


    Semanuick was filled with hatred and eager to teach the man a lesson. He wanted to kill the hunter and offer the hunter''s life to the all-knowing, all-powerful Lord.


    In his previous death, Semanuick had learned the general whereabouts of the hunter. As soon as he was revived, he stole a butcher knife and went to a location near where the hunter lived, waiting for him. The reason he chose a butcher knife instead of therge machete was that the machete had not been useful thest time. It was too conspicuous and not flexible enough. Bigger wasn''t necessarily better; the most suitable weapon was the best choice.


    Hard work paid off, and Semanuick finally caught sight of the hunter.


    In their previous encounters, the hunter had always been fully armed, wearing long clothes, pants, and a fireman''s mask. Inside the mask, the hunter had even wrapped bandages and cloth covering his face, exposing only two eyes.


    The hunter never spoke. Semanuick had never heard his voice. He remained silent while chasing him, cutting him, and throwing him off the building.


    He didn''t waste any words and was focused solely on killing.


    After a long search and investigation, Semanuick finally found the small hotel where the hunter stayed. The hunter seemed to be an outsider,ing to this city specifically to investigate him. He didn''t have a residence in town, so he stayed at a hotel, a gangster inn that didn''t require identification.


    What baffled Semanuick was that the hunter even disguised himself when going out to buy things��wearing long clothes and pants, a baseball cap, a mask, and even colorful cheap toy sunsses on his nose. His eyes were well-covered, making it impossible for Semanuick to see his face. Semanuick bought a telescope, trying to peek through the hotel windows, only to find the curtains tightly drawn at all times, leaving no gap.


    Damn, the man''s defenses were all-epassing!


    Semanuick patiently hid in the shadows, waiting for the hunter to leave the hotel during the day.


    He couldn''t attack the hunter at night because the Shadows would enhance the hunter''sbat abilities. The best time to strike would be during the bright daylight when the hunter left the hotel. Semanuick would follow behind and suddenly strike, aiming for a fatal blow.


    People tend to lower their guard during the day, as everyone believes the night is the most dangerous.


    Semanuick finally got his chance.


    Because of the scorching weather, very few people were on the street. The hunter chose to go out at noon when the sun was at its strongest and shadows were at their shortest. Semanuick knew his opportunity hade.


    He had figured out that the hunter''s teleportation ability not only relied on shadow coordinates but also had a distance limit. Through two pursuit rounds, he had more or less determined the maximum range.


    However, what frustrated Semanuick was that even while walking, the hunter stayed close to the shadows of the walls and never walked in the middle of the road.


    Semanuick felt like he was going to explode. How could there be such a person in this world? Was this level of caution even human?!


    Finally, at a corner, Semanuick saw his opportunity. The hunter had to cross a pedestrian crossing, and within five meters, there were no flower beds, tree shades, railings, or any other obstructions. It was a once-in-a-lifetime perfect opportunity!


    Pretending to be a passerby, Semanuick crossed the road with the hunter. He lowered his footsteps in the middle of the road, quickly approached the hunter, and drew his knife to stab him.


    Semanuick''s eyes widened in shock as the hunter dodged his attack. The hunter reached behind his back, drew a cold, gleaming kitchen knife, and stabbed backward, puncturing Semanuick''s lung.


    Coughing up blood, Semanuick saw the hunter disappear in front of him. While the absence of shadows limited his agility, the hunter could still use the shadows of the two people to teleport. Having learned from previous deaths, Semanuick knew the hunter had a habit of attacking from behind, so he stabbed backward without looking.


    ng! His knife was blocked!


    "You know me. You know my abilities," the hunter said gloomily from behind him.


    The hunter delivered a swift kick to Semanuick''s lower body as he spoke. Semanuick''s face turned purple, and his expression twisted in pain. He was sent flying two meters away, crashing to the ground and barely able to hold onto his knife.


    This was the first time Semanuick heard the hunter''s voice��cold, clear, and young.

 Chapter 38: "Run, Jonathan!"

    <h4>Chapter 38: "Run, Jonathan!"</h4>


    "Your target is me, and you''ve been tracking me all the way. Before you started following me, you had already been monitoring my residence. You even chose to strike where there are no shadows. When did you learn about me?" The hunter flicked the blood off his kitchen knife, and from behind theical children''s sunsses, a pair of eyes brimming with killing intent gazed at him. "Do you have super abilities? Did you learn about me through your superpowers?"


    Semanuick''s courage shattered at the hunter''s sharpness, and he scrambled to his feet.


    "Run, run slowly, and I''ll kill you slowly," the hunter''s mood was especially terrible, and he was more irritable than ever. "You made me pull a knife in broad daylight and prevented me from being aw-abiding citizen. I''m going to ughter you ten thousand times."


    This intersection was newly built and had less traffic. At noon, there were no people around, but a surveince camera was overhead, and Semanuick didn''t know if it was working.


    Just as Semanuick struggled to his feet, the hunter kicked him down again. Every time Semanuick tried to get up, the hunter kicked him down, repeating this several times. If he tried to run fast, the hunter would stab him, slowing him down. The hunter would sh his waist and legs if he tried to fight back with his knife.


    He ran tens of meters, zigzagging from the middle of the road to the roadside, leaving a trail of blood for tens of meters.


    Semanuick''s psychological defenses crumbledpletely. His face was swollen and bruised, and his body was simultaneously healing and umting new wounds.


    "Just kill me quickly! Kill me!" Semanuick clutched his head and broke down. "Stop torturing me!"


    "Why are you asking me to kill you? Aren''t you afraid of dying?" The hunter hesitated. "You''re not really unafraid of dying, are you?"


    Semanuick: "???"


    What kind of monster was this man? How could he be so perceptive?


    Semanuick stopped struggling and running, knowing he still had chances to respawn. When time rewound, everything would start again, and he would still have the opportunity to start over.


    Semanuick clenched his knife, wanting to decisively slit his throat and restart suicide, but as soon as he moved, the hunter kicked his knife away.


    "Is it because you''ve been driven mad by so-called gods that you''re not afraid of dying, or are you just naturally unafraid?" The hunter mused to himself. "Never mind, it''s broad daylight, and I shouldn''t prolong this too much... You really picked a good time and ce... I can''t find a more appropriate way to handle this."


    At any moment, someone might arrive. On one side of the road was a small park with a fountain. The fountain wasn''t spraying water, but water was umted in the pool, half a person high.


    The hunter seemed to lose interest. With a swift move, he severed Semanuick''s spine once again, grabbed him by the cor, and threw him into the fountain pool.


    Semanuick, paralyzed from his severed nerves, desperately blew bubbles, unable to even struggle. The fish in the fountain pool swam around him, nibbling on the blood oozing from his wounds.


    In thest second, before his vision darkened, Semanuick saw the hunter take out his phone from his pocket, seemingly refreshing a page.


    The fourth death and reincarnation.


    Semanuick entered a state of hysteria, and after thinking for a while with bloodshot eyes, he decided not to confront the hunter head-on. Instead, he would create a massive gas explosion to kill the hunter. As soon as he respawned, Semanuick rushed to the ce where they had first met, but to his surprise, the hunter hadn''t yet arrived in Los Angeles at this point, and there was no one in the small motel where he used to live.


    Filled with the desire for revenge, Semanuick couldn''t wait any longer. He ran to a remote vi and killed a family of three to offer a sacrifice to his god.


    The god extended a tiny psychic tentacle, connecting to Semanuick''s mind and giving him a revtion. The crazed murmurs, apanied by scattered, fragmented images, rushed into his brain.


    He saw the hunter''s face and location! The hunter looked much younger than he had imagined, appearing to be only 18 or 19 years old. At this moment, he was in a tastefully decorated room, apanied by a beautiful girl. They sat together at a table, and the hunter seemed to be discussing a topic with the girl.


    The images sped up, and Semanuick saw the hunter pack up and leave. As the hunter opened the door, Semanuick saw the house number and the road sign on the street! He had all the information he needed!


    As the mysterious and insane murmurs faded away, Semanuick disconnected from his connection with the god. Blood streamed from his nostrils, and he wiped it away,ughing uncontrobly with bloodshot eyes.


    There was a price to pay formunicating with god. Those who had direct or indirect contact with the god in the secret cult became increasingly insane. This was Semanuick''s second timemunicating with the god, and his expression was a mix of fierce delight and gratitude. He knelt on the ground and said most devoutly, "Great and merciful lord, thank you for granting your most loyal follower the revtion."


    Semanuick immediately set off. He stole a pickup truck and took a remote country road without surveince cameras to San Diego. To avoid detection, he took a much longer route. By the time he arrived in San Diego, it was already Friday morning.


    He couldn''t rush this time. Semanuick was eager to teach the hunter a painful lesson. He patiently scouted the area and, in the evening, quietly snuck into the residentialmunity, entering the house of the beautiful girl based on the images he saw.


    Disguising himself as a deliveryman, Semanuick knocked on the door, broke in, and knocked out the girl''s family members. He started with the girl, who seemed the easiest to intimidate, and forced her to reveal her identity and rtionship with the hunter.


    However, the girl named Diema was tight-lipped, refusing to reveal the hunter''s contact information or his real name.


    Just as Semanuick was about to resort to brutal means to continue interrogating Diema, the doorbell rang.


    The familiar voice of the hunter came from behind the door: "Diema, it''s me. I just remembered I left something behind."


    Hearing the hunter''s voice, Semanuick''s first reaction was to shrink back, traumatized. He immediately looked at Diema, whose eyes were filled with tears, and fiercely gestured for her not to make a sound.


    But Diema screamed, "Run, Jonathan!"


    It was over!


    Semanuick felt the hairs on his neck stand up. In the next second, the hunter''s figure appeared. His body passed through the wall, teleporting twice in a blink of an eye to Semanuick''s side. He raised his leg and struck with his knee, causing a clear cracking sound in Semanuick''s jaw!


    The hunter was unarmed, fighting with bare hands, targeting Semanuick''s eyes and temples. Even without weapons, Semanuick was no match for him. He tried to escape, jumping out the window.


    Diema''s room was on the third floor, not high enough for the fall to be fatal. The hunter, however, went to the living room, grabbed a fruit knife, and followed Semanuick out the window. The window was on the shadowy side of the building, and the hunter used the shadows to teleport safely to the ground. He quickly caught up to Semanuick, plunging the fruit knife precisely into the gap in his spine, paralyzing his entire body.


    Three meters ahead was a pool. At first sight of the pool, Semanuick knew how he would die this time��drowning.


    As expected, the hunter threw him into the pool.


    The fifth death.


    Semanuick woke up on Friday morning. There was a limit to the number of times he could die and be reborn, and as he continued to die, his respawning interval grew shorter. If his resurrection and death time coincided, he would be dead forever.


    He would have to wait for the next seven days, when the cycle reset, to use this ability again.


    Semanuick was like an enraged bull, panting heavily. He paced erratically, muttering to himself, praying to his god and cursing the hunter.


    He didn''t want to flee, but the reality was that he always ended up running away from the hunter, which humiliated him.


    "It''s because I''m not strong enough..." Semanuick murmured. He could easily kill ordinary people, but not the killing machine that was the hunter.


    Semanuick knelt and prayed, "Great and merciful lord, if I offer you more sacrifices, can you grant me the power to kill my enemy?"


    The god didn''t respond.


    The help the god could give him was limited; the god''s power couldn''t all descend upon him.


    Semanuick''s eyes turnedpletely bloodshot. "A gun..." he thought, "If I had a gun, just one gun... I could kill him. No... killing him is not enough; I want to kill everyone connected to him!"

 Chapter 39: "Damn it, why isn’t this guy following the normal timeline?!"

    <h4>Chapter 39: "Damn it, why isn''t this guy following the normal timeline?!"</h4>


    "Danger avoidance" ascended to "Absolute Premonition";


    Within the game system, Jonathan''s repeated utilization of intuition to urately predict future developments prompted the enhancement of his innate gift.


    This affirmed that the fleeting thought of the cultist murderer suspects targeting him was not a baseless concern but an existing reality.


    The killer hade to San Diego solely because of him.


    What was his purpose? Why seek him out? How had he learned of his existence?


    Upon returning home, Jonathan entered the bathroom to shower, the water cascading over his head as though cooling his fevered mind.


    From the police warrant, he learned the cultist murder suspect''s name was Semanuick, and he was quite certain he had never crossed paths with anyone by that name before.


    Had it not been for the task assigned by the system, had Semanuick not tainted Jonathan''s life, their destinies would have run parallel, never intersecting.


    Their sole intersectiony in the "task." Jonathan resolved to hunt Semanuick, who became his prey. When Jonathan epted the task and determined his quarry, their rtionship was no longer that of strangers but hunter and hunted, their fates converging.


    Why would a stranger like Semanuick seek him out?


    With no enmity or conflicts of interest between them, Jonathan was absolutely certain that Semanuick''s arrival spelled trouble. As a cultist, it was imusible for him to journey to San Diego merely to befriend him.


    Jonathan could only empathize from his standpoint, pondering the implications of Semanuek''s actions.


    Jonathan was headed to LA because Semanuick was there, intending to kill. Could it be that Semanuick, ining to San Diego at this critical juncture, sought to murder as well? Was he after him?


    Now, that was intriguing indeed.


    Jonathan''s impulse to kill stemmed from the task issued by the game system; what then was the catalyst for Semanuick toe to San Diego to kill him?


    In this matter, there could be no coincidence. A string of coincidences merged to be an inevitability. Assuming Semanuick''s objective was to y him, what had provoked Semanuick''s murderous intent?


    Hatred and murderous desires do not emerge without reason in this world. Jonathan wracked his brain but could not fathom when or how he had offended Semanuick so gravely that he resolutely ignored the distance, fearless of the pursuing police, just to reach his city.


    Could it be that the game system had also issued a task to Semanuick? This seemed somewhat imusible. The game system''s tasks were usually vague, and Semanuick''s objective was far too explicit��he wasing for him. The hypothesis of the game system issuing a task seemed tenuous but not entirely impossible... Jonathan decided to keep this notion in reserve.


    Jonathan and Semanuick shared no history; even if they have, it would only exist in some future timeframe.


    Surely, it couldn''t be that Semanuick could foresee the future, predicting a future enmity between them that led to his murderous intent?


    Wait... this exnation seemed somewhat usible.


    With a start, Jonathan turned off the shower, grabbed a towel to dry his hair, dressed, and exited the bathroom before picking up his phone to call Diema.


    "Hello? Diema, something came up today. Let''s meet another time," Jonathan said.


    "Alright," Diema replied, "just don''t cancel next time, okay?"


    "I promise. Oh, by the way, the neighborhood''s been a bit unsafetely. A murderer escaped and made their way here. Did you see this morning''s news?" Jonathan cautioned, "Don''t open the door to strangers."


    "I know, I''m eighteen already!" Diemaughed.


    Diema was likely a yer; the young girl was rather cunning and tight-lipped, and her actions were nearly wless. Diema would be vignt without Jonathan''s reminder if she received a regional task.


    Near Diema''s home was arge supermarket with diverse kitchenware. Jonathan nned to purchase a handy knife; he could not be without a weapon when Semanuick was in San Diego, danger lurking so near.


    After showering, it was only half past nine, and Jonathan donned his coat before heading to therge shopping center near Diema''s home to peruse knives in the household goods section.


    The store seemed to promote kitchenware, and a saleswoman enthusiastically introduced various models of kitchen knives. Jonathan listened to her descriptions, inspected thebels indicating the materials on the back of the packaging, tested the sample des himself, and finally proceeded to pay.


    This knife was an affordable option with a rtively low price and decent craftsmanship and wasposed of an ordinary alloy rather than Damascus steel. It should suffice for a day''s use.


    Jonathan paid for the knife, went to the restroom to remove the packaging, and concealed the de by slipping it into his waistband and covering it with his clothing. Feeling the solid sensation against his waist, his sense of security instantly increased.


    The sensation of having a weapon at hand was distinct from being unarmed; he momentarily breathed a sigh of relief.


    Meanwhile, Semanuick ventured to Diema''s neighborhood again, finding a blind spot in surveince and stealthily climbing over the fence when no one was paying attention.


    The hunter woulde today, and ording to the timeline of their previous encounter, he would arrive at the girl''s home around dusk.


    To avoid crossing paths with the hunter, Semanuick had arrived at Diema''s home early for two reasons: first, to prevent a head-on confrontation likest time, and second, to allow ample time for extracting information.


    Semanuick had learned from his past mistakes, resolving to obtain the hunter''s real name and home address this time. The girl was a child, and he hadn''t had time to employ cruel methods in his previous interrogation. However, should he apply even the slightest pressure, she would surely crumble under his questioning.


    Semanuick had considered other means of gathering information about the hunter without resorting to torture, but he couldn''t conceive of any other methods. Surely, he couldn''t simply stake out the residential entrance and follow the hunter, could he? His previous experience had taught him that tailing was ineffective, as the hunter was far too perceptive. Semanuick''s crude tracking skills were like child''s y before him, easily exposed in mere moments.


    Semanuick dared not make another sacrifice to ask the gods for the hunter''s location, as he could not endure the erosion of madness twice within a few days, nor did he dare to kill too many people, leading the hunter to track him down too quickly.


    His goal was to get information, only information. Once he obtained the information, he could kill Diema and leave her gruesome corpse for the hunter to find when he arrived. What would the hunter''s expression be like then? Anger, hatred, despair?


    But it would be toote; Semanuick nned to flee before the hunter reached Diema''s home, hiding in a safe ce, waiting for the death cycle count to reset. In the meantime, he could investigate the area around the hunter''s residence, selectively killing those close to him, making the hunter watch helplessly as they died one by one. Kidnapping the people around the hunter might be a good option, too, as he wanted to slowly torment the hunter''s nerves and watch him crumble in rage.


    The roles of prey and hunter would be reversed! The hunter would no longer toy with him as a cat ys with a mouse!


    Once the death cycle reset, Semanuick nned to steal a gun and send the hunter to his demise with a single magazine of bullets. The mere thought of that scene made Semanuick struggle to control hisughter.


    With a grin stered across his face, Semanuick arrived at the entrance to Diema''s building, crouched down, and entered the stairwell through the fire escape. Then, his smile suddenly froze as he saw the hunter descending the stairs.


    They locked eyes as they crossed paths in the narrow space.


    Semanuick thought: Damn it, why isn''t this guy following the normal timeline?!

 Chapter 40: "Idiot"

    <h4>Chapter 40: "Idiot"</h4>


    "Would you like to stay and have dinner with me?" Diema asked. "I ordered fried chicken for lunch, and it''s a bit too much for me to eat a whole one by myself. We can share and finish it together. I also ordered stir-fried rice cakes and milk tea."


    "No, I really have something to do," Jonathan declined politely. "Maybe next time."


    "Alright." Diema reluctantly took a cold can of c from the fridge and handed it to Jonathan. "It''s hot outside; drink something cold to cool down."


    "Thanks," Jonathan said as he opened the door. "Remember not to open the door for strangers. I''m leaving now; goodbye."


    "I know; I always ask the delivery guy to leave my order outside the door and wait until they leave before picking it up," Diema waved. "Goodbye."


    Jonathan turned and walked downstairs. As he reached the corner between the second and first floors, he suddenly saw a man wearing a sun hat, with his face obscured, standing at the stairway entrance.


    Having faced life-threatening situations multiple times, his ability to assess and predict danger had be almost instinctive. He had read crime investigation books and learned how to analyze a person''s profile.


    In just a second, Jonathan instinctively applied the knowledge he had learned to profile the man before him.


    The man''s arm muscles were well-defined, indicating strength. His walking pace had been slightly hurried and disorganized, but his footsteps were not heavy; in fact, they were light, as if he was excited about something, making his walking posture seem almost buoyant.


    Jonathan''s temples throbbed as he sensed something was off, and he tried to probe the man, "Are you a resident here? I don''t think I''ve seen you before."


    Suppressing a trembling reaction, Semanuick responded, "Is this Building 15?"


    Just as a mouse would instinctively feel fear when encountering a cat, Semanuick felt the same way when he came face-to-face with the hunter.


    The situation had developed beyond his expectations. The man in front of him seemed to be able to jump out of the timeline, his actions not controlled by fate. ording to the predetermined development, the hunter should havee to Diema''s house around evening, but now he had arrived early! How could this be?!


    "Building 15 is next door, this is Building 14," Jonathan said, eyeing him.


    "I''m here to see my father-inw; it''s my first time here, and I''m not familiar with the area, so I got lost," Semanuick faked a naturalugh, doing his best to appear nonchnt. "Thanks for the directions."


    Jonathan looked down at him from the stairs, "I''m sorry, I was wrong earlier; Building 15 is not next door."


    "Huh?" Semanuick was taken aback.


    "There is no Building 15 in this neighborhood," Jonathan said. "Why don''t you ask your father-inw for the correct address? Once you know, I can guide you there."


    Semanuick: "..."


    He couldn''t help but feel his heart race. He suspected the hunter had be suspicious; he hadn''t fully grasped the neighborhoodyout and didn''t know there was no Building 15.


    The hunter knew but had deliberately said Building 15 was next door.


    "No need..." Semanuick remained calm, "I don''t want to trouble you; I''ll find it on my own."


    Semanuick backed down, unable to confront the hunter head-on because he had exhausted his death loop count, and dying again would mean permanent death.


    Semanuick turned and left, doing his best to make his steps look less frantic and hurried. However, Jonathan followed him like a silent ghost, always staying three meters behind him. He sped up, and so did Jonathan. He slowed down, and so did Jonathan.


    Jonathan maintained a safe distance of three meters from him, neither too close nor too far, tantly following him.


    Fear, like a festering wound, gradually prated deep into Semanuick''s heart.


    He left the neighborhood, and Jonathan followed him. He went through alleyways and made sharp turns, trying to shake off the hunter, but he caught up with him even faster. Semanuick deliberately went through crowds to try and block Jonathan''s line of sight, only to turn around and find, damn it, he was still there! He was always there! Lingering like a ghost!


    He was a wolf, a hunter, who would not easily let go of his prey once he had set his sights on it.


    The prey''s mental defenses gradually crumbled. He felt like a helpless little rabbit, pinned under the wolf''s foot, who wouldn''t eat him but licked its sharp teeth, salivating.


    Jonathan trailed behind him for a minute and quickly confirmed his identity. He was Semanuick, the suspect in the cult murder case.


    A forensic discipline called "footprint analysis" analyzed suspects'' characteristics and tracked them effectively by observing their walking posture and footprints. Jonathan had read a book on this subject and, with his inherent talent for "fast learning," had mastered the theory. This was his first time applying it in practice.


    Jonathan had seen the surveince footage released by the police this morning, and the walking posture of Semanuick in the video was extremely simr to that of the man before him.


    Combined with his previous suspicious behavior, Jonathan was almost certain his real identity was Semanuick.


    Driven into a corner, Semanuick''s steps became increasingly disordered. Suddenly, he turned around, stood in the middle of the road, and said hoarsely, "You''re insane... you''re insane!"


    "I''m not; you are. How does it feel to kill your wife, children, and parents?" Jonathan stops his feet.


    "Ha," Semanuick spread his arms, "You''re afraid of revealing your identity, aren''t you?"


    Every time the hunter went out, he was fully armed. He hadn''t had time to disguise himself in his hometown of San Diego, which was why Semanuick had seen his real face.


    "You''re afraid, too. Our fears are equal," Jonathan said expressionlessly.


    They stood beside the busy road three meters apart at that moment. As pedestrians passed by during their conversation, they tacitly remained silent, staring at each other from a distance.


    "Do you dare to kill me on the road? So many people are watching," Semanuick growled.


    "Do you dare to drag this out with me?" Jonathan sneered, "I am aw-abiding citizen; you are not."


    "if you Call the police, I''ll yell in the middle of the road that you''re a yer," Semanuick''s eyes were red with rage, "If I die, you won''t get off easy either. You''re not disguised now!"


    "...I''m not disguised now?" Jonathan repeated the sentence, puzzled.


    "Now" is an intriguing word. Opposite to "now" are "past" and "future." His facial expression changed from perplexity to subtlety and finally to realization. "I understand, so that''s how it is... so that''s how it is," Jonathan realized, "This is your super ability."


    "Can you predict the future?" he muttered to himself, "No, it doesn''t seem that simple. Something''s a little off, not quite right... Your ability isn''t predicting the future... What could it be then?"


    Semanuick took a step back, utterly terrified. It was just a single word he had used incorrectly, and the hunter had grasped the key point.


    "I find it quite interesting... how fearless you are. Why did youe to San Diego? Why did you target me?" Jonathan asked, "To be honest, you... are quite mediocre. You have a weak psychological tolerance, and it seems like you don''t have much in terms ofbat skills. I''ve only been following you briefly, and you''re already terrified... Why are you so confident that you fearlessly came looking for me? If you really can predict the future, shouldn''t you be able to predict my abilities? I don''t think I''m weak, but you still fearlessly came."


    The hunter pondered, "Hmm... could it be that you really aren''t afraid of dying?"


    Semanuick could no longer maintain hisposure. His eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. When he drowned in the fountainst time, the hunter had also said the same thing - "Could it be that you really aren''t afraid of dying?"


    He had be sensitive to an inhuman extent!


    Jonathan thought momentarily, "It seems we are at a stalemate. Neither of us wants to expose our identities."


    "What do you want to do?" Semanuick asked hoarsely.


    "How about we let each other go?" Jonathan suggested with a smile, "We don''t interfere with each other and part ways from now on."


    Semanuick dly agreed, "Deal!"


    This was exactly what he wanted. Once his death cycle reset, no one could do anything to him. He would still be hidden, while the hunter would remain exposed. Wouldn''t it be easy for him to do anything he wanted?


    Moreover, Semanuick believed he had found Jonathan''s weakness - his fear of his identity being exposed.


    "Then we''ve reached an agreement," Jonathan said with a smile, "You can go now."


    Semanuick took a step back, then another, and when he saw that Jonathan had no intention of pursuing him, he bolted.


    Jonathan stood there, not moving, and as Semanuick rounded a corner, Jonathan muttered, "Idiot."


    Semanuick had almost zero tracking skills, while Jonathan was a professional undercover agent, and he was in San Diego, his familiar territory. Plus, he had the super ability to move through shadows. If he truly wanted to track someone, no one could detect him, including that fool, Semanuick.

 Chapter 41: "You have obtained the super ability [Death Reincarnation · A Rank]"

    <h4>Chapter 41: "You have obtained the super ability [Death Reincarnation �� A Rank]"</h4>


    As the heavens gradually darkened, the morning''s stifling heat presaged an imminent deluge. The mercurial temperament of summer weather was strikingly evident, with but an hour ago the sun zing in its full glory, and now, a cloak of somber clouds enveloping the skies.


    Wolves, pr bears, and sharks, the apex predators of the natural world, track their prey for miles, drawn by the scent of blood. Once they set their sights on their quarry, they do not easily give up.


    Jonathan was a patient hunter and tracker.


    As Semanuick turned corners or doubled back, Jonathan positioned himself within Semanuick''s blind spots, vanishing into the shadows when no cover was avable. He concealed him remarkably well.


    Semanuick, possessing a modicum of wit, avoided surveince by traversing sparsely popted areas. Urban surveince cameras have be increasingly pervasive over the years, making it challenging to find streets without them. Frequently ncing around to discern their locations, he would meander through alleyways and circle back numerous times before discovering a suitable path.


    What should have taken an hour to traverse by the main road took twice as long due to Semanuick''s zigzagging and constant pauses.


    Jonathan trailed him for two hours, his emotions unwavering, his heartbeat steady. To prevent his phone from making noise upon receiving a text message, he had set it to airne mode.


    It seemed Semanuick was deeply fearful of Jonathan catching up to him. He would purposely take a longer route while evading surveince, sometimes sprinting around corners before doubling back, attempting to lure out any possible pursuers.


    He repeated this tactic five or six times, feigning forward motion before abruptly scanning his surroundings.


    Upon noticing shadows in an alley, Semanuick would scrutinize them intently for some time as if seeking confirmation before proceeding through. Even after crossing the shadows, his anxiety remained, and he would often walk a few meters forward before suddenly turning around to observe the air near the shadows.


    Interesting, utterly interesting. Jonathan became lost in thought. Semanuick''s target was not only him, but he also seemed to be familiar with his super abilities. Aware of Jonathan''s ability to traverse shadows, Semanuick remained as vignt as a startled bowman when passing through them. His fear and suspicion radiated from him, akin to one bitten by a snake and consequently wary of it for years.


    His terror was palpable as if he had experienced it firsthand. Capable of foreseeing the future, unafraid of death, and bearing a deep-seated hatred towards him, Semanuick''s object was crystal clear.


    Combining these observations, Jonathan nearly deduced the nature of Semanuick''s super ability. If it were indeed as he suspected, and if such a power truly existed... he would need to revise his strategy.


    Semanuick''s suspicions consumed him as he looked back every three meters, yet he was unable to detect Jonathan.


    In truth, Semanuick was no weakling. His physical prowess and acute vignce had allowed him to evade capture for days on end. He was intelligent enough to avoid risks, using Jonathan''s weaknesses against him.


    Regrettably, Semanuick had encountered Jonathan and obstinately charged forward, refusing to back down until he had reached his end. It was not that he was too feeble but rather that Jonathan was too formidable. Semanuick''s petty tricks and cunning were ineffective; he could not best Jonathan in directbat, so instead sought to threaten him with firearms and those close to him.


    Had Semanuick sessfully executed his n, it would indeed have posed a significant nuisance to Jonathan. However, fortune was not on his side, and he failed to anticipate Jonathan as an uncontroble variable, so he had fallen into Jonathan''s grasp.


    Two and a half hourster, the sky was entirely shrouded in dark clouds, and a curtain of rain enveloped the city.


    Seemingly rxed that he was no longer being followed, Semanuick braved the rain, traversed a gaping hole in the wire fence, and entered the abandoned tobo factory.


    This deste area was once home to numerous factories. The economic crisis led to many closures, followed by the government shuttering a slew of polluting nts. Beside the factoryy a disused railway line overgrown with tall, wild grass. Rumor had it thend was recently leased for redevelopment.


    Quiet and secluded, the location served as both an ideal hideout and hunting ground.


    After confirming Semanuick''s whereabouts, Jonathan did not immediately pursue his prey. Instead, he approached the railway line, gathered a handful of wild grass, and meticulously bound his shoes with it, ensuring they were tightly wrapped. The soles'' patterns could reveal the shoes'' brand, while their size, tread depth, and stride could expose crucial information about his height, weight, and gender...


    Even after returning to the real world, Jonathan still made time to study criminal investigation techniques. He needed to avoid leaving a trace, for merely evading surveince would not suffice; every minute detail that could betray his identity had to be eradicated.


    The downpour intensified... even the heavens appeared to be aiding him. The rain would wash away any scent he had left in the area and blur his footprints. Even the most skilled police dog would be hard-pressed to find him.


    Jonathan finished concealing his personal information, wiped the rain from his cheeks, and used his shadow travel to teleport into the tobo factory.


    Hunting was a skill that grew more familiar with the practice. Jonathan drew a kitchen knife from behind his waist, holding it in his hand as he surveyed the factory for any traces of Semanuick.


    Semanuick had been soaked by the rain, leaving a clear trail of wet footprints.


    Jonathan calmly followed the footprints using his shadow travel ability, barely touching the ground to minimize his tracks. The factory floor''s dust remainedrgely undisturbed by his movements.


    The factory was decrepit, with rusted irondders, peeling walls, and shattered ss. Rain poured in through broken windows, and as the wind howled through the frames, they creaked and groaned. The wind''s moans through the corridors seemed like the singing of ghosts.


    Jonathan made his way from the factory''s first floor to the second, gradually closing in on his prey. Finally, as he rounded a corner, he spotted a pale-faced Semanuick.


    Semanuick was seated on the ground, wringing out his clothes, when Jonathan appeared silently before him like a ghost.


    He stared at Semanuick in silence, his eyes cold and still like the water of the dead. The sharp kitchen knife faintly reflected light.


    "I have questions for you," Jonathan said, looking down at him. "Answer my questions, and I''ll let you live."


    Semanuick''s backside hit the floor as he retreated, shivering with fear.


    "Don''t you know my abilities?" Jonathan continued. "There''s no point in running. Answer my questions, and I''ll spare you."


    Semanuick looked utterly terrified, his eyes bulging. "You, you..."


    "Answer the questions and live. Don''t answer, and die." Jonathan said simply, "I''m being straightforward. You can understand."


    Semanuick didn''t bother asking foolish questions like, "Can I really trust your promise?" The answer would change nothing; the hunter might still deceive him if he asked. If the hunter truly intended to keep his word, he would let Semanuick go after answering the questions.


    Answering the questions would give Semanuick a sliver of hope for survival. Not answering would seal his fate in the next second. He did not doubt the hunter''s ruthlessness.


    "Have you ever taken God''s Blood?" Jonathan asked.


    Semanuick''s lips trembled.


    "Have you taken it?" Jonathan kicked Semanuick in the face, sending him to the ground with a twisted mouth and an agonizing wail. "I asked if you''ve taken it! You''re supposed to answer, don''t test my patience."


    Semanuicky on the ground, disoriented for a moment. Jonathan waited three seconds and, seeing him only screaming in pain without answering, kicked him in the stomach again.


    Semanuick doubled over in pain, shouting, "Yes! Yes, I have!" He answered this question because it wasn''t a crucial one. By now, every yer knew that there were two ways to obtain superpowers: either by natural awakening or by taking God''s Blood. His answer didn''t really matter.


    Semanuick''s previous hesitation was because he feared Jonathan''s follow-up questions might be more dangerous and sensitive. He couldn''t betray his lord.


    "Have you mutated?" Jonathan''s eyes were like a scalpel, meticulously examining his body. "Take off your clothes."


    Semanuick''s face twitched, and under the hunter''s oppressive gaze, he struggled to his feet and took off his shirt. His muscr body showed no signs of mutation; it was an utterly ordinary human.


    Jonathan continued, "If your body in the first world hasn''t mutated, what about your body in the second world?"


    "None there either..." Semanuick said.


    "Where did you get God''s Blood?" Jonathan asked.


    Semanuick''s heart clenched, not wanting to answer.


    But Jonathan''s kick came again, not just once but repeatedly. Semanuick wailed and begged for mercy, but Jonathan showed no signs of stopping his brutal beating.


    As he beat him, Jonathan spoke word by word, "I��"


    Crack! Semanuick''s arm was broken.


    "��Asked you��"


    Snap! Semanuick''s leg bone fractured.


    "��Where did God''s Bloode from!"


    Thud! Jonathan viciously kicked Semanuick''s head against the wall, causing it to bleed profusely. The blood slowly trailed down the mottled wall.


    Semanuick''s vision was blurred by blood, and he became disoriented. Jonathan picked up Semanuick''s shirt from the ground, wrapped the kitchen knife handle with it, and plunged it into Semanuick''s abdomen, ensuring the blood didn''t stter onto him.


    Semanuick regained consciousness amidst intense pain. His wound healed rapidly, the cut closed up, and fresh flesh grew.


    "I''ll tell you! It was my fellow cult members who gave it to me... Please, spare me!" Semanuick''s tears flowed. "The cult provided it, and I just took it as they instructed. Please, spare me!"


    "You''re not being honest. I, of course, know you''re part of the cult; I''m asking who supplies God''s Blood to the cult," Jonathan said emotionlessly, crouching down to look at him. "If you continue to lie, I''ll cut off your arm. Can your regenerative abilities regrow severed limbs?"


    Semanuick trembled, his face smeared with tears and blood. "I really don''t know. I just joined and am only a peripheral member... I''m not lying, really!"


    Jonathan stood up and asked, "Which city do you live in in the second world?"


    "White... White Whale City," Semanuick replied.


    White Whale City was a city near the pr region in the second world, adjacent to the pr ice ocean. Its geographical location was roughly equivalent to the Siberian border in the first world.


    Semanuick had a thought and said, trying to sound clever, "You want our God''s Blood, don''t you? If you spare me, I can give you a bottle when I return to the second world!"


    Jonathan let out a mockingugh. "give me? Do you think I''m as stupid as you?" He paused and asked, "Is your god real?"


    Hearing this question, Semanuick stopped shaking. He became emotional, and his voice grew abnormally high. "How dare you question the existence of my lord!"


    Jonathan''s eyes grew cold, and he unleashed another brutal round of kicks, breaking several of Semanuick''s ribs.


    Semanuick rolled on the ground, initially cursing Jonathan for disrespecting his god. But Jonathan was relentless, and the sound of Semanuick''s bones cracking never stopped... In the end, the furious cursing turned into desperate pleading.


    "Lord, you are my lord! Stop hitting me, please!" Semanuick sobbed, holding his head. "Spare me, please! !"


    "Last question." Jonathan stopped when he felt that Semanuick had had enough. "What is your super ability?"


    Finally, this question had arrived.


    Semanuick''s eyelids twitched, and before Jonathan could kick him again, he said, "It''s precognition... I knew you would kill me in the future, so I..."


    Before he could finish speaking, Jonathan stabbed the knife into Semanuick''s abdomen several times. The kitchen knife pierced his body with a squelching sound, and he let out a terrifying wail, nearly losing his mind. However, his physical strength and regenerative abilities were so powerful that he remained conscious even in such immense pain, unable to faint.


    "Do you really think I''m as stupid as you?" Jonathan said darkly. "Answering me with my previous guess? Have you lost your mind from following a cult?"


    Semanuicky on the ground groaning, his body still recovering, but his spirit was on the verge of copse.


    "If you don''t want to answer, I''ll take a guess." Jonathan bent down, looking into Semanuick''s bloodshot eyes. "Your super ability has something to do with time reversal..."


    Semanuick''s breath caught, his pupils dted, and an indistinct syble emerged from his throat.


    "You can return to past timelines, like loading and saving in a game... Am I right?" Jonathan asked again.


    Semanuick coughed up blood, struggling desperately. "No, how could I have such a heaven-defying ability?"


    "But my intuition tells me you''re lying, and my guess is correct. My intuition is always right, and it has never been wrong." Jonathan smiled.


    To Semanuick, his smile seemed as terrifying as the Grim Reaper beckoning him.


    "If you kill me, I''ll go back in time! Next time, I''ll make sure to kill you. If you let me go now, I''ll pretend nothing happened, and we can both live in peace!" Semanuick made a final effort, and his desperation tinged with hope. "When I return in time, I''ll know everything, and you''ll know nothing. I''ll know what you look like and where your friends are..."


    Jonathan said indifferently, "No, your frantic desire to live right now is because you''ve lost your reliance. If you had resurrection as a fallback, you wouldn''t be so desperate to stay alive now. Your rebirth ability has limitations, doesn''t it? With limitations, you can''t recklessly give up your life."


    "Hopefully, I''ve made the right choice." He lifted the kitchen knife and plunged it into Semanuick''s eye socket amid his fear and pleading, stirring his brain and killing him in one blow.


    "You have killed [Walker Semanuick]."


    "You have stripped [Walker Semanuick] of his super ability."


    "You have obtained the super ability [Death Reincarnation �� A Rank]."


    "[Death Reincarnation �� A Rank]: You can return to the past and start anew after death. The more times you die, the closer the resurrection time point will be to the time of death. If the resurrection time point coincides with the time of death, resurrection is impossible. The number of resurrections resets every seven days."


    "Your super ability [Flesh Regeneration] has been upgraded."


    "[Flesh Regeneration �� C Rank]: Your healing rate is far superior to that of ordinary people."


    Meanwhile, in the closed beta yer forum of "Red Soil," a new death announcement was updated and pinned to the top.


    "Walker No. 1286 was killed by Dispossessor No. 331 on July 29th."

 Chapter 42 “we didnt call you”

    42 ��we didn''t call you��


    The game system continued to disy new prompts.


    "[Mission Content]: Investigate the cultist murder case."


    "Detection of the investigation target''s death; your mission is consideredpleted."


    "[Investigation Progress]: 100��."


    "You remained calm and collected in the face of a murderer with super abilities, turning a passive situation into an active one and executing the mission target on the spot. Throughout the mission, you have demonstrated an extraordinary level of perception, calmness, and intelligence, and your tactical abilities are beyond the reach of ordinary people."


    "You have excellentlypleted the mission. As a lone wolf without any teammates, you are the only winner of this mission."


    "Based on your mission performance, you have been awarded the title [Pursuer]."


    "[Pursuer]: You are a hunter with a keen intuition, and no prey can escape your tracking and hunting once targeted. You can use this title when speaking in the forum. If you use the title, your forum nickname will be prefixed with ''Pursuer.''"


    Jonathan took a deep breath. The decision to personally kill Semanuick was one he had made, and so far, it seemed to be an exceedingly correct choice.


    Once a yer dies, their information will be reported in the forum. From the moment Jonathan decided to remove the pollution around him, he had contemted how to kill while avoiding being reported in the forum.


    He thought for a long time, nning to take a little risk and try to create an idental death. He couldn''t kill someone with his own hands but could use something else to kill his prey, like drowning or falling from a height. However, Jonathan didn''t know the game system''s judgment criteria. If the system considered human factors in causing death, his n would be ineffective.


    So Jonathan needed to take a risk and test the game system''s judgment criteria to see if he could avoid the death reports.


    However, Semanuick''s super ability thwarted Jonathan''s n. If his ability was rted to loading and saving progress, then it was worth stripping him of his superpower.


    With such a super ability, Jonathan would have even greater security for survival.


    He valued his life immensely. He had no way to properly protect himself in a dangerous situation like the Second World. Life is a game with no second chances, and he doesn''t want to risk his own life. But Semanuick''s Death Reincarnation could give him another chance, increase his fault tolerance, and provide an opportunity for a desperate counterattack and restart in extreme situations.


    Jonathan hoped he would never trigger Death Reincarnation. He hated death, and if he ever triggered Death Reincarnation, it meant he was cornered and facing an unprecedented crisis. Jonathan wanted his life to go smoothly and keep any threats to him at bay.


    Jonathan could imagine that after Semanuick''s death was reported, the forum would undoubtedly experience another wave ofmotion. But before checking the forum on his phone, he needed to deal with the corpse.


    After visiting the Xenobiotics creature specimen gallery in the basement of the investigation building, looking at a human corpse didn''t disturb him much.


    Just as Jonathan reached out to move the corpse, a blood bubble emerged from Semanuick''s skin. Sensing something was wrong, he suddenly pulled his hand back and retreated to a considerable distance.


    The corpse''s skin continued to bubble with blood, and in a short time, the corpse melted into a pool of blood. A few blood-soaked clothesy silently on the ground.


    "Is this... the natural disintegration that urs after Heterobloods is killed?" Jonathan was stunned.


    Martin had mentioned this to him: only Heterobloods who had highly assimted the divine blood would experience automatic disintegration after death. However, these Heterobloods still couldn''t escape the curse of bodily mutation and death.


    Semanuick was an exception; he not only highly assimted the god''s blood, but his body also did not suffer from any deformity.


    Jonathan remained silent. Not having to deal with the corpse was good, saving him a lot of effort. All he needed to do next was to clean up the clothes and bloodstains left by Semanuick on the ground, and he wouldn''t have to do much since the corpse had already disappeared.


    There was a strict process for determining death, and one important criterion was the presence of a corpse. Without a corpse or fragments of a corpse, it was impossible to determine death. Who could have thought the body would dissolve into blood? Even dissolving a body in sulfuric acid wouldn''t leave such clean traces.


    If there were indeed people investigating the scer, they would only be able to deduce from the bloodstains that there had been an intense fight, but they wouldn''t be able to determine whether someone had died.


    Jonathan squatted down and used Semanuick''s remaining clothes to wipe the blood off the knife. However, blood was difficult to cleanpletely. Jonathan left the tobo factory and found a puddle to wash the knife. Once the knife''s surface showed no traces of blood, he attached it to his lower waist.


    The knife couldn''t be discarded carelessly. Although it appeared clean, there would still be a lot of gic information the human eye couldn''t detect. The knife handle was engraved with the brand of kitchenware, and if someone found the knife, they might be able to trace it back to him.


    For added security, he decided not to take the subway home. Jonathan cleaned up the scene, and, taking advantage of the heavy rain and overcast weather, he used the shadows to make his way back home.


    At the same time when Jonathan received the taskpletion notification, yers in the California area who had also taken the task to investigate the cult killings received notifications from the game system.


    "Detecting the investigation target is dead."


    "A yer in your area haspleted the task before you, and your task is considered a failure."


    "..."


    California


    "Who is it?" Theposed man looked thoughtfully out the window at the pouring rain.


    "Has someone killed Semanuick?" murmured the pale-skinned youth, his head bowed. "They have beaten me to the punch... I haven''t had the opportunity to put my super abilities to the test."


    San Diego


    Diema nervously bites her lip and murmurs, "Has the subject of the investigation died... Semanuick is dead, and the forum will surely report it... Yes, let me check." She opens the forum and sees a new red-topped death notice at the top. The first post only has one line - "Walker 1286 was killed by Dispossessor 331 on July 29th."


    "Oh my goodness!" Diema is stunned. She took on this task out of curiosity, as the game system did not mention any penalties for failing the task or rewards forpleting it. In fact, she never intended toplete the task, and she just wanted to join in the fun...


    If Walker 1286 is Semanuick and Semanuick is in San Diego, then Dispossessor 331, the person who killed him, is also in San Diego?!


    Diema hugs her arms tightly and rubs the goosebumps that have risen on her skin. She mutters with a pale face, "Don''t panic, don''t panic. Dispossessor 331 must havee for Semanuick. He doesn''t know me, doesn''t know I''m a yer... Wait, what if he knows Diema, the celebrity from the second world?"


    She almost cries out of fear and decides to stay home and study for the whole summer.


    Diema refreshes the forum page, and dozens or even hundreds of new posts pop up.


    The post with the most replies is titled "Beware of Dispossessor 331!!! The first time he kills someone, you can perhaps exin it as an ident or coincidence, but the second time? I have reason to believe that he is selectively hunting yers!"


    ...


    After returning home, Jonathan takes off his clothes and takes a shower. He then boils a pot of water, throws in the clothes he wore when he killed someone today, and the knives he used, and boils them in hot water.


    In various horror movies and crime dramas, killers often dismember and boil their victims to prevent the victim''s gic information from being identified by the police using technology, thus determining the victim''s identity.


    16:00


    Jonathan is now doing the same thing, boiling the clothes and knives with bloodstains or human tissue,pletely destroying any remaining material.


    After boiling the clothes, he will air dry them and tear a few holes to make it look like they identally got damaged and can no longer be worn, then throw them in the garbage can downstairs. As for the knife, he will leave it open in the kitchen. Of course, he won''t use this knife to cut vegetables.


    He finds the pot used to boil the clothes and knife repulsive, and in the future, he will keep it unused on the bottom shelf of the cab. Several spare cooking utensils are at home, which are enough for cooking.


    While waiting for the clothes to boil, Jonathan checks the forum to see what''s going on. However, his phone suddenly buzzes a few times, and a calles in.


    As soon as he sees the caller ID, his heart skips a beat.


    "Hello, is this Mr. Jonathan? This is..." The male operator on the other end of the phone gives the address of the police station on the street where Jonathan lives.


    "Hello, do you need something?" Jonathan politely asks.


    "Well, we found through the city surveince system that you followed a man for a long distance behind him when you passed Broadway this morning. The man is about 1.8 meters tall, muscr and sturdy, wearing a gray shirt, ck pants, and a sun hat... Do you remember him?"


    "...Yes," Jonathan chooses his words carefully and says, "I thought that man was suspicious. He looked a bit like the killer reported on the news, so I followed him for a while to observe him. But he turned around and questioned me why I was following him. I saw he was confident and didn''t look like a killer, so I stopped following him... He''s not really a killer, is he?"


    "He is," the operator confirms. "Please try to recall the suspect''s direction after he left and tell us. This will be a significant breakthrough for our case."


    "I only remember that he went south," Jonathan says.


    "Is there any other information?" the operator asks.


    "No," Jonathan lies without changing his expression.


    The operator asks a few more questions, and Jonathan answers each one vaguely and indistinctly, seeming confused.


    "Thank you for providing this information. If there is any other situation that requires further questioning, we will continue to call you," the operator says.


    The call ends, and Jonathan falls into contemtion. Before he can think for three seconds, another calles in.


    To Jonathan''s surprise, it is still the local police station number. He answers the phone curiously and hears a female voice saying, "Hello, we are from the Broadway police station, and this morning you ..." N?v(el)B\\jnn


    "Um." Jonathan pauses, "Didn''t your colleagues just call me?"


    The female on the phone confusedly responds, "Wait, sir, our police station didn''t call you."

 Chapter 43: hi? do you want to team up?

    43 hi? do you want to team up?


    -How is it possible? "I just got a call from the police station," Jonathan said in disbelief. "There must be an error," the operator said. If you have been following the news, you should have seen the order issued by our police department. Semanuick, twenty-six, of heavy build, approximately six feet tall, resident of Los Angeles, suspected of homicide. He fled today to our San Diego. We discovered someone with strikingly simr characteristics to Semanuick on city surveince, and footage showed that you were thest person to contact him, Mr. Jonathan. We need his help to provide clues. Jonathan insisted:


    -I got the call earlier! If he wasn''t from the police station, who made the call? The number disyed the area code followed by the emergency number.


    Jonathan surreptitiously activated his phone''s recording feature while talking, took a screenshot of the iing call screen, and sent it to his social media ount with "friends only" visibility. Then, he switched his phone to speaker mode, found an unused elderly-friendly mobile phone on his bedside table, and charged it.


    The elderly phone was not equipped with a SIM card and could not connect to the Inte, which suited Jonathan''s needs. It only required his camera and recording functions. He took a photo of the iing call screen on his smartphone and then activated the senior phone''s recording function, cing it nearby to record. Jonathan needed two copies of the iing call screen photo: a screenshot and a photo. Simrly, he had two copies of the call recording, one on his smartphone and another on the elderly phone that couldn''t ess the inte.


    Jonathan said seriously:


    -The previous call was very suspicious... I swear I received a call from the police station. Anti-fra propaganda warns that some scammers may use technology to alter the number disyed on iing calls. I fear I am dealing with a scammer. If you are a police officer, please give me your badge number.


    It was a reasonable request, and generally when citizens make this type of request, police officers provide their badge numbers, since this information is public. The operator paused briefly and provided a series of digits.


    Jonathan asked:


    -Is the Semanuick you mentioned the same person I ran into on Broadway this morning? Is he a murderer?


    - We can''t bepletely sure, but the physical characteristics are very simr. "We need relevant clues to help our investigation," the operator responded. "One detail. Jonathan noticed a detail. The first male operator had given a definitive answer when Jonathan asked if the killer was the person he had encountered. However, the was that Semanuick was wearing a hat that firmly hid his face, and without a clear frontal field of vision, his identity was doubtful. Still, the male operator waspletely sure that the man was indeed the suspect, which was abnormal and unprofessional.


    -I watched the news today and suspected that the person I followed was Semanuick, but it seemed too much of a coincidence. "A murderer would hardly go to a crowded ce... If only I had known, I would have followed him," Jonathan continuednguidly, dying time and causing the operator to say more. Perhaps finding Jonathan''s ramblings excessive, the operator got to the point:


    -We need you to provide the suspect''s address when he left. In which direction did he head?


    Jonathan knew that it would be difficult to get more information from the tone of his voice:


    -Ah, I never thought that I would meet a murderer by chance.,, In that case, I will personally visit the police station to provideiues, he said. I know it''s a significant matter and I w feel reassured unless I go.


    The operator subtly fell silent for a second and then said politely:


    -Thank you for your cooperation and understanding.


    After the call ended, Jonathan reviewed immediately the post he had sent to his social media ount.


    -What...? - He was surprised to see that his social media app indicated a failed upload, with the image sent invisible. He couldn''t find the relevant screenshot in his photo gallery, the recycle bin was empty and when he returned to the iing call screen, both police station numbers had disappeared!


    When he reviewed the audio recordings, The yback of the recorded conversation had inexplicably be a jumble of noisy electrical sounds.


    His phone had been hacked!


    Jonathan realized the seriousness of the situation and eagerly grabbed the elderly phone to check. Fortunately, both the photo and audio recordings were intact.


    Being offline and without a signal, the hacker was unable to find an entry point to invade the senior phone. It was like a dead device, immune to hacking. Jonathan was not worried that thepromised smartphone''s camera could secretly film or record him under the hacker''s control, as it was a second-hand device with a broken camera. Thanks to the defective camera, he acquired the rtively new model at a good price.


    At the time, Jonathan thought that he did not take photos frequently, which made the camera useless, and the phone was simply a convenient means ofmunication. Little did he know that his austerity had helped him avoid a minor risk.


    The remaining question was when the hacker had invaded his phone: now or before?


    ...


    Identifying and confirming his identity from the vast sea of images of Surveince would take time, When Jonathan killed Semanuick, his phone should have been upromised and his identity hidden from him. Furthermore, he had put his phone on airne mode to avoid any noise while following Semanuick, remaining offline and without signal It was precisely because his identity was not exposed that a hacker, posing as a police officer, attempted to do so. probe information. If his identity had been confirmed, the hacker would not have called to prove it.


    "Thanks to the unknown hacker," Jonathan muttered to himself, "since his appearance prompted me to raise my vignceprehensively. Enemies would attack not only from the real world but also from the digital realm. My defense had to be airtight so that no one would exploit any vulnerabilities.


    However, your activity on the gaming forum should remain safe since you found no trace of your browsing history on your phone after visiting the site,


    Login on the gaming forum and browsing posts would not leave marks on your phone. But at the same time, numerous questions presented themselves to Jonathan. He had purchased a knife on Amazon and searched for information on weapons such as triangr daggers, all of which might appear suspicious to the attentive observer. His exposure of him was partial but notplete, and the situation was critical.


    The enemy couldn''t determine who killed Semanuick, but they could guess that Jonathan might be a yer.


    Truth be told... Jonathan was struggling to control his killing intent.


    He bit his finger and looked at his phone for a long time., finally deciding to go to the police station to report the incident.


    Yes, report it to the police.


    Reporting to the police is a normal reaction for ordinary people who find themselves in such situations, and he needs to disguise himself as an ordinary person,


    Being a gamer and being a regr person are not mutually exclusive; Most of the yers on the gaming forum are actually ordinary people, living ordinary lives and possessing ordinary ways of thinking. The extraordinary thing was that they had engaged in a game of survival. If he could do it all over again, Jonathan could be more cautious and narform his task more


    elegantly, since he now possessed information that otherscked. As the game progressed, Jonathan increasingly understood the importance of intelligence, which was the key to ensuring his survival in both worlds.


    He grabbed his phone, put on his shoes, and headed straight to the police station. police. By the time he finished selectively reporting and exining the situation to the police, it was already afternoon.


    As the young police officer took his statement, he muttered:


    -this is indeed very strange, with evidence of an invasion of hackers. I suggest you get a new phone...


    -It''s too expensive; "I''m really poor," Jonathanmented.


    -Well, I still rmend changing it. His phone is too insecure and he could expose a lot of information. What happens if your social media and payment passwords are exposed? -said the vouno policeman-. We couldn''t find the license te number on the recording of him; the person who called you is not a police officer... Also, we don''t usually call directly from the emergency phone number when handling cases.


    -Really?-Jonathan asked.


    -People who haven''t experienced this may not understand it, but it depends on the situation. 911 is a dedicatedmand center number, but it can also be an area code plus 911. However, the most authentic approach is to usendlines or ordinary mobile numbers," the young police officer exined. Be careful next time, don''t be fooled. If you encounter a wanted criminal, We usually visit the scene in person or ask the witness to go to the police station. Of course, if witnesses and informants request confidentiality, we can record the call, conduct telephone interviews, and write down clues...


    Jonathan finally understood:


    -I see... Thank you.


    -Go home; "It''s raining a lot outside and be careful on the road," said the young policeman. It''s good to be aware of fraud prevention; keep it up.


    -I don''t think scammers can get anything out of me; "I''m poor as rats and there''s no chance of being fooled," Jonathan said sadly. If the person I followed before was really a murderer, would I be considered to have provided significant clues?


    Could I get a reward?


    -If the case is solved, there will be a reward, but usually not if it remains unsolved," the young police officer responded.


    As he left, Jonathan expressed his best wishes:


    -I hope the case is solved soon.


    Outside, the rain fell relentlessly. Jonathan opened his umbre and walked into the downpour, fighting his way through the flooded streets to get back home. As soon as he entered the building and closed his umbre, his phone vibrated with a new message


    -Hello? The world is too dangerous. Do you want to team up?


    Three secondster, another message arrived.


    -I''m the person who called you earlier. I have no bad intentions.


    The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and


    continue reading tomorrow, everyone!