“Bang—”
Officer Huang fired three shots in an instant, but the frequency was so rapid that Gao Yang heard only a single sound.
At the moment of the gunshot, three sparks appeared in the air two meters away from Officer Huang as he shot down the three daggers that had been thrown to ambush him.
However, the daggers were just a feint.
Startled, Officer Huang noticed a shadow had somehow already swooped down from the left, right under his nose.
“Swish—” A sharp flash of white steel glimmered.
In that split second, Officer Huang raised his gun to block, but it was sliced in half like clay, along with two of his fingers, which were severed like green onions.
Half a second later, Officer Huang’s head was about to be removed.
But that scene never came to pass.
A slender and sharp Tang blade pressed against Officer Huang’s throat but did not strike. Soon, a thin line of blood trickled from the man’s neck, cut by the sheer force of the blade’s aura.
Qingling retracted her sword and took two steps back. “You’re not a Wrath Beast.”
Clutching his bleeding fingers, the pain made Officer Huang’s face pale, but he didn’t panic or show fear. “How did you know?”
“If you were a Wrath Beast, in the final moment, you would have used your arms to block my attack.” Qingling gently ran her fingers across the bloodless blade, which folded and disappeared in her hand.
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“They have an innate confidence in their own bodies. It’s a reflex. Humans are different. They’ll use whatever they think is the sturdiest to block my strikes.”
“That’s right, I’m an Awakened too,” Officer Huang smiled. “Thank you for sparing me.”
...
2 a.m. Shanqing District, Third Hospital Emergency Building.
Officer Huang’s fingers had been reattached and bandaged. Gao Yang and Qingling waited in the lobby.
Officer Huang exited the hospital, smiling. “Tomorrow, I’ll write a report: you two were robbed by street thugs, and I intervened but got injured in the process.”
Gao Yang and Qingling exchanged glances but said nothing.
“Are you hungry? Let’s go get something to eat,” Officer Huang added.
...
The three of them went to a late-night mala hotpot stall near the hospital. An inconspicuous blue tent was set up at the entrance of a small alley, beneath which was a cart with a hotpot pot and a small gas cylinder. The dim light and fragrant food provided a warm corner in the cold city.
The stall owner was an energetic old man in his sixties, speaking with a booming voice.
“Officer Huang, you’re here! Whoa, what happened to your hand?”
“Work injury.”
“Your job is really tough. So, no drinking tonight, huh?”
“Exactly. The rest will be the same as usual.”
“Got it.” The old man busied himself and then turned to Gao Yang and Qingling. “What’ll it be for you two?”
Qingling looked at the menu expressionlessly and made her decision swiftly. “One skewer of shiitake, one skewer of winter melon, one skewer of potato, one skewer of cabbage, one skewer of fish balls, one skewer of crab sticks, one skewer of fried gluten, one portion of tomato, one portion of sweet potato noodles. Extra spicy.”
Gao Yang was startled—she really wasn’t holding back.
I might as well follow suit.
“I’ll have the same as her.”
The three of them sat side by side by the cart, enjoying the fragrant mala hotpot. Officer Huang savored each bite, “Mm, the feeling of surviving death is great. I thought I’d never taste this again.”
Qingling remained silent, focused on biting into her potato.
Gao Yang, cautious, whispered, “Officer Huang, maybe we shouldn’t talk about these things in public.”
Officer Huang looked up and glanced at the old man cooking nearby. “Don’t worry, Grandpa Liu is a Lost One. He’ll automatically ignore anything he doesn’t want to hear, right, Grandpa Liu?”
Grandpa Liu raised his head, “What’s up?”