Gao Yi awoke to pain—intense, all-encompassing pain. A bone-deep chill had settled into his body, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of weakness. The source, he realized hazily, was a wound near his heart.

His body felt like ice, like steel. Faint murmurs reached his ears, accompanied by the sharp scent of disinfectant mingled with the coppery tang of blood.

Was he dying? Or was he already dead?

With great effort, Gao Yi managed to flutter his eyelids open. Two figures in white coats stood to his left and right. Doctors? A flicker of hope sparked within him. Had he been saved?

But behind the doctors stood a middle-aged man in a garish floral shirt, his face alight with excitement.

"He's not dead yet?" the man exclaimed. "How could his heart still be beating after taking a shot?"

One of the white-coated figures responded, "This kid's heart is a mirror image of a normal one. His organs are reversed—heart's on the right side. Congratulations, boss... this heart will fetch a good price."

Gao Yi's fleeting hope plummeted into an abyss of despair.

The boss placed a hand on Gao Yi's chest. Though his heartbeat was faint, almost imperceptible, the man's experienced touch could still detect its weak pulse.

"Excellent!" The boss whirled around, barking orders. "Prepare the heart transplant transport box, quickly! This is a heart that could be worth millions!"

Fully conscious now, Gao Yi grasped the gravity of his situation. He had long known about his situs inversus—the rare condition that placed his organs in mirror-image positions. It was the reason he was still alive; the bullet meant for his heart had lodged in his lung instead. But even a lung shot was enough to incapacitate most people.

The immediate threat wasn't the pain, but the extreme weakness that threatened to snuff out his life at any moment.

He wasn't strapped to a hospital bed or sedated. His captors had assumed him as good as dead. Yet even knowing this, Gao Yi couldn't summon the strength to move.

Despite his dire circumstances, Gao Yi refused to panic or give in to hopelessness. He knew what he had to do.

Drawing upon the last reserves of strength in his failing body, Gao Yi called upon a lifetime of training. He had begun practicing martial arts at five, mastered the Eight Trigram Palm by thirteen, delved into the intricacies of Tai Chi at sixteen, and by nineteen, had honed his awareness of the mind-body connection to a razor's edge.

What Gao Yi had cultivated wasn't mere flashy technique, but true martial mastery. Though his fists couldn't stop a bullet, as long as a spark of life remained, he possessed far greater potential than an ordinary person to create a miracle.

All he had to do was survive.

The doctor hadn't moved yet, likely waiting to prepare properly—even a living organ required careful extraction. The preservation of a heart was demanding work.

This delay granted Gao Yi precious seconds, and time was what he needed most. At that moment, a new voice cut through his thoughts.

"Boss!"

A man approached the leader, speaking in a hushed tone. "The oven is at four hundred degrees. The cremation process is ready."

Anger. White-hot, all-consuming anger flooded Gao Yi's being. He couldn't die—not here, not like this. Even if death claimed him, he would drag these organ traffickers down to hell with him.

The boss lifted a phone to his ear, his voice taking on a pleased tone. "Hey, how's the match? Is it compatible? That's great! I've got good news for you—the heart is perfectly intact! Because of his situs inversus, it wasn't damaged."

He paused, listening, then continued, "I'll get everything ready on my end right away. Also, be sure to discuss the price with Mr. Marcos—try to raise it a bit. You know why that money is important, don't you?"

Another pause, then the boss's tone grew serious. "I'm just saying, when one of the hitmen from the Ansac Group gets shot in the lung and hasn't died after three and a half hours, doesn't that kind of body deserve a higher price?"

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Gao Yi absorbed every word, his anger giving way to an overwhelming sense of urgency.

"Boss, everything is ready."

"Good. The doctor is prepared. I'll start the operation on my end, and you stay connected to finalize the sale."

The boss ended the call and approached the operating table, his eyes roving greedily over Gao Yi's body.

Four people. Four pairs of eyes focused intently on Gao Yi.

The boss rubbed his hands together, then clapped them sharply. "Hearts, kidneys, corneas—all worth a fortune, especially this heart. Be very careful, you two."

Five minutes later, everything was set. The boss signaled for the operation to begin.

Gao Yi's eyes snapped open.

The doctor, focused on his instruments, failed to notice.

With a speed that defied his critical condition, Gao Yi's hand shot out, grasping the doctor's wrist. The man let out a terrified shriek as Gao Yi twisted his arm, snatching the scalpel in one fluid motion. In a heartbeat, he sliced through the doctor's carotid artery.

The doctor collapsed, horror etched on his face—not just from witnessing death, but from the realization that the move Gao Yi had just executed was one he had perfected himself.

Blood sprayed everywhere, spattering Gao Yi's face. As the first doctor fell, Gao Yi sidestepped, driving the scalpel deep into the second doctor's eye. The blade sank to the hilt, Gao Yi's palm force pushing it further into the man's skull.

The two men flanking the operating table froze in shock. The boss instinctively took a step back, but no further.

Gao Yi felt sluggish, weak, exhausted. He was rapidly approaching his limits. But one thought burned in his mind: no matter how weak he was, he had to finish them all.

With what seemed like impossible speed to his opponents, Gao Yi thrust two fingers directly into the boss's eyes. There was resistance, but even in his weakened state, nothing could stop the force of Gao Yi's attack.

A heart-wrenching scream tore through the air.

To Gao Yi's left stood a rack of surgical tools. His right hand darted out, grasping another scalpel. By the time the boss raised his hands to cover his ruined eyes, Gao Yi had already slashed through the throats of the two men standing nearby and opened half the boss's neck.

The final man had managed to draw a gun. If Gao Yi had been in worse shape, this person would have likely killed him.

However, Gao Yi still retained enough control over his body to throw a punch. He had no physical power left, but he still had skill.

Stretching his hand forward, Gao Yi's right hand grabbed two spherical objects hidden in the man's body—a move he mentally referred to as "monkey peaches."

This technique had always been his ultimate, never-before-used trick. In his extreme state of weakness, it was his last-ditch survival move.

Channeling every last ounce of strength into the effort, Gao Yi's vision darkened, and his mind began to spin. The gunman was sent flying forward, his skull cracking open as he hit the ground.

Gao Yi's left hand slashed upward while his right, in one smooth motion, stabbed the final opponent in the stomach.

The movements required little effort, but they left Gao Yi reeling with dizziness. He clutched the surgical table for support as the room swam before his eyes. As the vertigo gradually subsided, he summoned what little strength remained and retrieved the gun from the fallen man's body.

Armed now, even in his weakened state, he could still fight back.

Heavy footsteps echoed from beyond the room. Gao Yi could hear people approaching. He leaned against the wall, concealing the gun behind one of the bodies. Just as he did so, the door flew open.

Someone shouted loudly, but no one entered immediately. All they could see were five corpses.

Yes, Gao Yi now looked more like a dead man than a living one. His body was bare, a bullet hole in his chest, his head soaked with fresh blood.

Two figures cautiously entered the room. One held a gun, the other gripped a double-headed ax.

They froze, stunned by the carnage before them. They exchanged quick words in a language Gao Yi couldn't understand.

The moment they both stepped inside, Gao Yi's hand shot up. A single gunshot rang out.

The man holding the gun staggered, his legs buckling as he collapsed to the floor. At a distance of less than three meters, Gao Yi had easily put a bullet through his brain.

Gao Yi quickly adjusted his aim. As he fired at the man with the ax, the impact wasn't as effective. The man stumbled backward, then charged toward Gao Yi with the heavy weapon raised high.

Two more shots rang out. Gao Yi's head spun, but the bullets found their mark—the ax-wielder's knees. He toppled over, his body crumpling to the floor.

The final gunshot blasted through the fallen man's skull. With that, Gao Yi had eliminated the last of his enemies.

Gao Yi took a ragged breath, blood pouring from his mouth and the bullet wound in his chest. He had no idea if the gunfire would attract more people, but at this point, he no longer had the strength to care.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the stark white tiles of the walls and floor. The space was not large but eerily empty. All it contained was the surgical table, surrounded by scattered medical tools and two operating racks.

There were no windows. He couldn't see outside, but he knew a cremation furnace likely waited beyond these walls.

With monumental effort, Gao Yi struggled to his feet. From a rack beside the operating table, he grabbed a piece of gauze.

Stuffing the gauze into the bullet wound in his chest sent waves of soul-tearing pain through his body. He shook uncontrollably but forced himself to inhale deeply.

The agony was still unbearable, but Gao Yi couldn't be sure how much was physical and how much was psychological. The gauze seemed to momentarily stem the flow of blood from the wound.

Slowly, painfully, Gao Yi made his way to the door and peered outside.

Beyond lay a courtyard. In its center stood a tall pagoda, flames shooting from its base.

The cremation furnace. In the courtyard, they called it the Transformation Pagoda. Outside, it was simply known as the crematorium.

The corpses burning within held no connection to Gao Yi. The surroundings were deserted; this place, specially designed for disposing of bodies, required few attendants.

Now, it was time for Gao Yi to seek help—if he could survive long enough to find it.