Chapter 115
The outskirts of City G were in chaos as an unexpected counterattack by ability users caught everyone off guard.
A scout, clutching his walkie-talkie, yelled at the top of his lungs, “At least fifty of them on the other side! This isn’t some spur-of-the-moment thing—someone’s organized this! Ammo’s running out. We can’t take them head-on! We have to retreat! Immediately!”
Boom!
A massive fireball erupted suddenly, consuming anyone too slow to escape. Screams pierced the air as the searing heat turned victims into charcoal.
The blaze wiped out most of the temporary encampment, leaving a few ability users strolling leisurely through the wreckage.
The leader, a fire-type user, looked at a scorched walkie-talkie on the ground and sneered. He stomped on it with a snap and spat, “This is what I get for being too soft. Letting you ordinary folks chase me around like idiots.”
Another user scanned the fleeing crowd. He reached out, and a powerful wave surged through the air. A mercenary at the rear suddenly found himself suspended mid-air as if an invisible hand was clutching his throat.
His eyes bulged in panic as he stared at the marauders. His face reddened with suffocation. “W-Why are you doing this?” he choked out.
“Good question. I asked the same thing when the major factions hunted me down,” the ability user replied with a grin, gesturing to the scar on his neck left by a near miss. “This was their answer.”
“But I didn’t… We were exiled from the First Base! I don’t even know what’s going on…”
“Oh?” The telekinetic user widened his eyes theatrically, turning to his companion. “So he’s innocent, huh? Should we let him go?”
A flicker of hope appeared in the mercenary’s eyes. He nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes! I really don’t know—”
Shlick.
The mercenary froze, disbelieving as a reinforced steel arm pierced through his chest. He coughed up blood, his body convulsing before crumpling to the ground.
The user with the steel arm withdrew it with a look of disgust at the blood on his clothes. As the mercenary lay dead on the ground, the group of ability users burst into laughter. Only the telekinetic user seemed dissatisfied, grumbling that his toy had been taken away too soon.
“Quit messing around. Have you forgotten the boss’s orders?”
The reminder sobered them up, and they stepped over charred earth and mutilated remains, heading into a tent. Inside were several cages, each containing a person with a suppression collar clasped around their neck.
These suppression devices were initially developed by the First Base to control mutated beasts or creatures with tendencies to mutate. However, after the emergence of ability users through the Black Rift, malicious organizations replaced the punishment mechanism with miniature explosives. The devices, once used for taming beasts, became deadly nooses around the necks of ability users.
As the group entered, the captives became agitated, gripping the iron bars of their cages with trembling hands.
“We heard the commotion earlier. You’re ability users too! So are we! Those damned regular humans ambushed us while we weren’t paying attention. Everyone here was captured. Please, save us!” one of the captives pleaded desperately.
“Don’t panic. We’re here to rescue all of you,” the fire-type user declared confidently.
As he spoke, he pressed his hand against one of the cage locks. A burst of black smoke and a sharp sizzle later, the melted lock fell to the ground.
Freed at last, the captive’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude as he repeatedly thanked his savior. Yet, he hesitated, clutching the suppressor collar around his neck. “There’s one more thing—this thing on my neck. It’s rigged to explode. Do you have a way to deal with it?”
The ice-type user chuckled. “Of course. We can’t just leave something so dangerous on you, can we?”
He crouched and pressed a finger against the suppressor. A crystalline frost radiated from the contact point, quickly encasing the device in an intricate web of ice and freezing the sensor completely.
The captive’s breath hitched with excitement. As the suppressor broke apart, his elation seemed almost tangible.
But then—click.
A glaring red light blinked ominously on his neck. It flashed mockingly, as though ridiculing his earlier relief.
The captive’s face froze, his joy turning to horror. He raised a trembling hand to the brand-new suppressor now snug around his neck. “W-What is this? What are you doing?!”
“What are we doing? Removing the old suppressor. Can’t have it exploding and hurting us, can we?” The ice-type user stood up and mockingly patted the captive’s cheek. “Relax. We’ve learned from those idiotic humans. The new suppressors we’ve fitted you with are reinforced. Waterproof, fireproof, heat-resistant—even insulated against electricity.”
“No, this isn’t right!” the captive roared, grabbing the user’s collar. His face contorted in rage. “Why are you putting this on me? You said you came to save us!”
The others in the cages were equally stunned, their shock paralyzing them before they could voice their outrage.
But before they could react, the furious captive was kicked across the tent, crashing hard against the wall.
Dusting off his clothes where the captive had grabbed him, the ice-type user looked down at him with arrogant disdain. “You call yourself an ability user but let regular humans capture you? You’re nothing but trash.”
“You bastards!”
Another user nearby sneered. “Do you really think we’re running a charity? We came because you might be useful to us.”
The captive coughed up blood, his trembling hands supporting him on the ground. Thin black vines crept from under his palms, unfurling like living shadows.
But before he could act, a boot stomped down on his hand, crushing the vines beneath it.
“Ahhh!”
“Get with it already. The apocalypse has been here for nearly a year,” the fire-type user drawled, crossing his arms and grinning as he surveyed the remaining captives. “Out of all of you, there’s only one B-rank ability user. I suggest the rest of you stay obedient. Don’t even think about trying anything funny when we remove your suppressors.”
From the side, someone suddenly asked, “What happens if we try?”
The casual, almost curious tone was completely out of place in the suffocating tension.
The fire-type user’s smile faltered, and he clicked his tongue in irritation, clearly not expecting anyone to challenge him. “Tired of living, huh? Let me—”
He didn’t get to finish. The very moment he let his guard down, a pair of pale, slender arms wrapped around his neck. The motion was so fast and silent, it seemed almost unearthly.
Crack!
The sharp sound of a neck-snapping filled the air. The fire-type user’s eyes widened, his face twisting in pain. He barely registered the agony before his body went limp and crumpled to the ground, his arrogant expression forever frozen in death.
The remaining ability users snapped out of their daze, their shock quickly turning to rage and fear as they locked eyes on the newcomer—a young man.
“Damn it! Kill him!”
The ice-type user launched a volley of sharp ice spikes into the air, aiming them at the young man. But before they could reach him, the youth moved with lightning speed, closing the distance in an instant.
“Shit, he’s a speed-type!”
In a panic, the ice-type user abandoned his attack and turned to flee. But a gunshot rang out, grazing the back of his head. His vision blackened as he collapsed lifelessly to the floor.
The deaths of two of their comrades sent the remaining ability users into a frenzy of fear.
A strength-type user roared in fury, his fist surging with crushing force as he swung it down at the youth’s head. But before it could land, the punch was caught mid-air.
A second man had appeared. With sharp eyebrows and a commanding presence, he intercepted the blow with an outstretched palm. No matter how much strength the attacker used, he couldn’t push an inch further.
With a swift motion, the man twisted the arm.
“Ahhhhh!”
The strength-type user’s scream echoed as his arm was dislocated, leaving the others trembling in terror.
The group’s cohesion crumbled. Their earlier confidence had vanished, replaced by a chaotic mess of desperation. The tables had turned entirely, and the captives watched as the marauders were systematically dismantled.
The last standing ability user, trembling, dropped to his knees and raised his hands in surrender. Tears streaming down his face, he pleaded, “Please! Don’t kill me! I was forced into this!”
Without hesitation, the youth raised his gun and shot him dead.
Finally, the freed captive with the black thorns stood shakily. He stared at the youth in a mix of terror and awe. “W-Who are you?”
Before the captive with black thorn abilities could respond, several emaciated figures began filtering into the tent.
One of the men still locked in a cage, an older man, immediately recognized a familiar face among them. His fear momentarily forgotten, he scrambled to his feet and shouted in astonishment, “Jiajun! Didn’t you escape? How are you here?”
The scrawny young man named Jiajun froze upon hearing his name, tears streaming down his face as he replied, “Uncle, you helped me escape that day, but I didn’t get far. Another group caught me and locked me up. I’ve been waiting for a chance to get out ever since.”
The older man clutched the iron bars, his voice thick with anguish. “This is a nightmare… a damn curse!”
This group, like many others, were ability users who had emerged from the Black Rift only to be captured and imprisoned by various factions in secret locations.
One among them had a unique ability to dull people’s senses, which had allowed them to remain unnoticed by the overly confident fire-type user and his team. Even the young man’s stealthy approach had gone undetected.
With a subtle gesture from the youth, one of the newcomers stepped forward and began unlocking the cages, releasing the prisoners one by one.
It was only then that the group finally got a clear look at the young man who had saved them.
His eyes were soft and clear, shimmering like a sea of stars. His features were refined and strikingly handsome, exuding a tranquil grace reminiscent of an ink painting of a serene mountain and river.
However, when his brows furrowed slightly, his entire demeanor shifted. Beneath the elegance lay an unmistakable sharpness, like a poised blade ready to strike.
Even in their dire situation, the sight of someone so composed and commanding naturally inspired trust.
The thorn ability user’s companion seemed particularly captivated. In a hushed tone, he tentatively asked, “Uh… sir? What should we do next?”
The thorn user, however, remained coldly observant, his fingers brushing the suppressor still encircling his neck. He didn’t trust the young man. To him, this was just another manipulative actor, much like the fire-type user before.
And sure enough, after everyone was freed, the young man drew a sidearm. In his other hand was the control device for the suppressors’ explosives.
“Now, all of you will come with me,” he ordered.
The thorn-ability user suppressed a sneer and lowered his head like the others, feigning compliance while simmering with anger. He followed the group through the battlefield’s chaos until they reached a larger operations base.
Once there, the young man approached one of the soldiers, gave him a few curt instructions, and sent him running ahead to report.
Before long, a group of figures emerged from the rear of the camp, escorted by heavily armed guards. Leading them was Wen Jinfeng, who immediately scanned the captives, his sharp eyes lingering on their suppressor collars.
The thorn ability user recognized Wen Jinfeng at once.
On the night the colossal black beast had run rampant, numerous factions had descended upon City G, hunting down disoriented ability users. Wen Jinfeng’s forces had been among them.
The thorn user’s still-aching hand, mangled by the fire-type user’s boot, was smeared with his own dried blood. Whether it was disappointment or a bitter sense of inevitability, a surge of reckless defiance welled up inside him.
But Wen Jinfeng’s first words shattered his assumptions.
“When will you stop bringing home strays?” he snapped coldly, glaring at the young man.
This was far from the reaction of a slaver discovering free labor.
The thorn user looked up sharply. “…What?”
Wen Xin, who stood beside Wen Jinfeng, remained composed. “Taking them in might be troublesome in the short term, but from a long-term perspective, isn’t having ability users in City A’s best interest?”
“Having ability users?” Wen Jinfeng’s gaze turned cutting as he scrutinized the haggard captives huddled behind Wen Xin. His tone was merciless.
“Are we supposed to gamble on their fragile humanity, teetering in the euphoria of newfound power? Or bet that when ability users inevitably dominate the battlefield, they won’t turn on us the moment it suits them?”
“You should’ve killed them the moment you saw them. Letting them live only leaves us with ticking time bombs.”
Even as he spoke, Wen Jinfeng drew his firearm.
Wen Xin stepped forward, blocking his way.
“Wen Xin!” Wen Jinfeng’s face was a mask of cold fury. “The situation is dire, and we don’t have the luxury for mistakes. You can’t guarantee their loyalty!”
Gripping Wen Jinfeng’s wrist tightly, Wen Xin responded firmly, enunciating each word, “Then don’t count on loyalty. Don’t even consider humanity.”
“These people are weak now. Their original captors deprived them of food and water. Even if they rebel, the suppressors’ control will stop them. Keep them here, under guard. Execute any who resist.”
Wen Jinfeng’s eyes flickered slightly as if he were considering the suggestion.
But as a military commander, he wouldn’t be swayed by personal sentiment. His voice remained icy. “I’ll allow them to stay in the abandoned camp, but if they approach us, the guards will shoot them on sight. And you will be responsible for their actions.”
“Good enough,” Wen Xin replied simply.
In just a few words, the captives’ fate was sealed.
Wen Xin led them to the abandoned camp, a derelict residential area that had been evacuated. Though still within the military’s guarded perimeter, it offered relative safety.
Once there, Wen Xin noticed the wariness in their eyes—clearly, Wen Jinfeng’s earlier remarks had unsettled them.
One of them finally voiced his confusion. “If you wanted to help us, why didn’t you just let us go earlier?”
He was earnest, even indignant. After all, Wen Xin could have simply freed them, sparing himself the trouble and avoiding the risk of having to vouch for them.
The others remained silent, but their expressions, subtle and downcast, suggested they shared the same question.
Wen Xin smirked. “Do I look like someone so soft-hearted? Locking you up here is to keep you from causing trouble… Ah Lü.”
From his wrist, a small green snake lazily uncoiled, letting out a reluctant grumble. “I know, I know. You want me to watch over them again, right?”
“Who better than our mighty Ah Lü? A general like you can command respect just by being present.”
The snake, a scaly green viper, had learned the meaning of the word “general.” Flattered by the praise, it almost seemed to puff up with pride.
In truth, even without Wen Xin’s compliments, the snake would never refuse his requests. Feigning reluctance, it hissed, “Fine. I’ll humor you this time.”
In a flash, the tiny snake transformed into a massive, muscular viper. Its colossal body, thicker than a barrel, coiled menacingly as its crimson tongue flickered out, splitting the air with a sinister hiss.
The ability users nearly fainted from fear at the sight of the giant snake. All thoughts of resistance evaporated in an instant.
Amid the trembling crowd, a small, wiry boy—no older than fifteen—glanced at his uncle, then at the group around him. Pressing his lips into a firm line, he suddenly raised his voice.
“Are you heading out to fight those other ability users?”
Wen Xin paused, turning his calm gaze toward the boy.
The boy met Wen Xin’s eyes, his nerves threatening to falter under the weight of that cool stare. Gritting his teeth, he mustered his courage and added, “I mean… Good luck out there!”
As soon as he spoke, another spirited youth chimed in, “Wishing you success!”
“Victory in every battle!” “Push forward without hesitation!” “Crush your enemies!”
“Peerless and unmatched!!”
The last shout was so loud and misplaced that everyone turned in unison.
It came from a scrawny young man with the look of a former street punk. Blinking under the weight of the stares, he shrank back slightly and stammered, “…It’s a compliment, isn’t it?”
The boy’s uncle finally broke his silence. Having witnessed the fire ability users’ earlier cruelty, he was more aware now of their saviors’ intent.
“That lot only wanted to force us into their gang, treating us like pawns or expendable shields. Whether you helped us out of strategy or principle, we owe you thanks.”
Wen Xin glanced at the group of weary, dirt-covered captives. Something in his expression softened, and after a moment, a rare smile broke across his face.
It was a fleeting smile, like the moon emerging from behind thick clouds, but it was enough to leave everyone momentarily breathless.
The thorn ability user, who had remained silent throughout, felt his heartbeat skip.
He’d held resentment against Wen Xin, convinced this was all just another performance. But the exchange with Wen Jinfeng hadn’t been an act—the fury in Jinfeng’s eyes and the determination with which Wen Xin had stopped him were both genuine.
Perhaps it was the intense emotions of the day, or perhaps the chaotic whirlwind of recent events had dulled his clarity. But something about Wen Xin’s resolute stance had etched itself deeply into his mind.
Wen Xin had never been one to overestimate humanity.
When he had overheard the fire-type ability user accurately listing the abilities and ranks of the prisoners earlier, he had immediately recognized that this attack was no mere act of revenge.
The precise knowledge of each ability user’s capabilities and ranks wasn’t something anyone could obtain—only the factions who had captured and studied them could have such detailed information.
Such meticulous planning, manipulation of chaos, and a clear understanding of rival factions’ movements could only come from a powerful and well-organized force.
And all this just two days after Xiao Hei’s rampage had thrown everything into disarray.
Wen Xin clenched his fist, leaving deep indents in his palm.
Was this the work of the First Base again?
Could it be that An Qi was still alive? That beating him into a pulp last time hadn’t been enough—that he needed to be reduced to ashes?
The battlefield was a vision of hell. Screams pierced the air, the acrid stench of burning flesh warped the senses, and waves of heat distorted the surroundings into a nightmarish landscape.
“They come and go as they please! What the hell are you doing? What? You can’t catch them? Then bomb them! Let’s see if they can survive that!”
One of the faction leaders finally snapped at the ability users’ guerrilla tactics and ordered the deployment of heavy artillery.
Boom!
An explosion ripped through the sky. Towering flames roared upward as thick black smoke engulfed the heavens. Flesh and blood erupted in a grotesque rain of crimson.
Amid the chaos, Wen Xin cornered an ability user and pressed his gun to their head, demanding answers. “What’s your real purpose in seizing City G?”
The captive, drenched in sweat and tears, stammered through their terror, “Who doesn’t want to evolve? Who doesn’t want to become stronger?”
Their trembling voice rose, exposing the greed that had driven the battlefield. “City G is the cradle of evolution. Staying here means gaining powerful abilities—who wouldn’t want that?!”
“Why else would we stay here after that monstrous mutant appeared just two days ago? It could come back any time! Why haven’t you left? Why hasn’t anyone left? Because we all want the same thing—evolution!”
The words hit like a sledgehammer, ripping away the veil of pretense and exposing the festering greed beneath.
Wen Xin’s eyes burned red as his trembling hand tightened on the captive’s collar.
He couldn’t refute those words. In that moment, Wen Xin suddenly understood: no matter how absurd or despairing, this was the truth—the cold, unyielding reality.
Wen Xin turned back toward the battlefield.
Despite the horrific carnage, not a single faction had retreated. Instead, reinforcements continued to pour in, wave after wave.
When had these reinforcements even arrived?
How many factions were fanning the flames of this chaos? One? Two? All of them?
This couldn’t continue.
Wen Xin told himself that to put an end to this madness, he had to identify the mastermind behind it all. And if there were many, then he would find the one with the most influence.
But before he could act, Xiao Hei suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Wen Xin, why won’t you use me?”
Wen Xin turned to look at him.
The man’s deep, dark eyes met his own, as still as a bottomless pool. “If you ask, I’ll do anything. Is it because you’re afraid the First Base will come after me again? But even without you, the First Base will never let me go—and I won’t let them go either.”
Wen Xin’s face betrayed little emotion, but in that instant, his hand tightened around Xiao Hei’s wrist, his knuckles whitening under the strain.
It was like the temptation of a siren’s song. He knew the allure would lead him into terrifying, stormy seas where razor-sharp claws waited to tear him apart, yet he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step forward.
Xiao Hei carefully studied the faint quiver in Wen Xin’s eyes, sensing the restrained desire lurking beneath his composed exterior. Like a predator anticipating its prey’s surrender, he had expected this response all along: hesitation, yearning, and fear.
Ah Lü could resolve this crisis too—and would be far more cooperative. A simple “Ah Lü, you’re amazing” was enough to send the foolish green snake into a blissful daze.
But Wen Xin would never send Ah Lü to the battlefield. The snake can only be left to guard the rescued ability users, not thrown into battle.
Perhaps it was because Wen Xin didn’t want to force the snake to aid humanity, the very species it despised. But more likely, it was because mutants and humans were destined to stand on opposing sides.
It was like calling upon demons in an angelic civil war, or inviting the Federation to meddle in an empire’s internal strife.
Even Xiao Hei could imagine what would happen if Wen Xin unleashed his power to cleanse the battlefield. The people would brand Wen Xin as a pariah, pushing him to the forefront of controversy and making him the enemy of his own kind.
The irony was sharp: to save people, Wen Xin would have to become the target of their hatred.
…Forget it.
Just imagining how upset Wen Xin would be made Xiao Hei’s restless nature submit under the crushing weight of restraint.
He began to toy with the idea of staging an “accidental rampage,” disguising everything as an unconnected coincidence to spare Wen Xin any blame.
But Wen Xin suddenly exhaled, cutting through Xiao Hei’s thoughts. “This might be for the best.”
Those simple words carried the weight of months of psychological struggle—from City B’s Idealism Sect to now. They were the product of countless human tragedies witnessed, each one solidifying his resolve.
It was the decision of a boy who once loved sunshine and flowers, now choosing to grip the blood-stained blade before him.
“No one is better suited to this than me,” Wen Xin said firmly. “We’ll need to formalize this in writing later, but time is short. For now, let me take a bit of a liberty.”
He cracked a faint, almost self-deprecating joke and lifted his gaze.
Those eyes, as clear as a mountain spring, suddenly burned with heat more intense than the midday sun.
“Xiao Hei, this isn’t a request. As a human, as someone who stands as a guardian of the past, present, and future—I earnestly seek your cooperation.”
“Help me end this war.”
Thump, thump…
For a moment, Xiao Hei swore he could hear his own heartbeat echoing in his chest, pounding with an unrelenting rhythm.
