Right on Target (TARGET)
Su Heting had never heard of it.
The trading floor was a mixed bag, with all sorts of people. Professional stand-ins were usually desperate outlaws with shady backgrounds, typically only accepting cash transactions. It was common for them to take the money and run or turn on their employers.
This was probably a fake name.
He replied with, "Watch out for scammers."
It was already 4 a.m., and Su Heting was running on empty, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. When Hermit didn’t respond for a while, he lay down on the bed and fell asleep.
But it was a restless sleep.
Inspector chased him relentlessly in his dreams. Su Heting’s memory of that flying kick was so vivid that even when his phone woke him up, his arms still ached with a dull, lingering pain.
Half-conscious when he answered, his tone was sharp: "What do you want?"
Xie Zhensu was caught off guard by the question and took a second to reply. "Delivering documents."
Su Heting frowned. "Who are you?"
"Xie Zhensu."
It took Su Heting two seconds to process the name. He pulled the phone away, glanced at the number, then put it back to his ear. "Wrong number."
"Hermit referred me."
The voice on the other end was slightly hoarse, as if filtered through some kind of voice modulator.
"Hah..." Su Heting had picked up the Chief’s mannerism. "What kind of documents?"
"About King Shen."
Su Heting was scheduled to fight King Shen in two days—something he’d nearly forgotten.
The ventilation in his room was faulty, leaving it stifling after a night’s sleep. Feeling uncomfortably hot, he roughly ran a hand through his hair and said, "No need. Not interested. Bye."
He didn’t give the other person a chance to respond before hanging up.
Hermit had sent a flood of messages late last night. Su Heting scrolled through them.
Hermit: Big news!
Hermit: Titan is dead!!!
Hermit: I don’t dare go into details.
There was a half-hour pause.
Hermit: When you wake up, go get the King Shen documents. There’s something important in them.
Hermit: You have to get them!
Su Heting was silent for a moment before calling Xie Zhensu back.
"Hello," he said earnestly. "That was my little brother who answered earlier."
Su Heting left on time.
The Black Market in daylight was dirty and dull, with garbage piled up around the tenement buildings. Without the neon light shows, the place was just a cluster of crumbling, hunched-over structures. Plenty of Hybrids were out on the streets as most of them were working odd jobs.
Stopping at a red light, Su Heting spotted an armored vehicle and drones from the Armed Division.
Though patrol officers were everywhere, they were just auxiliary personnel under Xingtian, having only undergone short-term firearms training. The real enforcers maintaining order across the districts were the Armed Division. Equipped with top-tier gear, they regularly screened and updated Hybrid records. In other words, they knew exactly what modifications you’d made to your body.
Over the past two years, Xingtian had rolled out a never-ending stream of anti-Hybrid weapons—like the sensor lock Su Heting had worn. Meanwhile, detention facilities were also upgrading. Interrogations used to be conducted by humans, but now they weren’t even necessary. With brain computer interfaces, mental intrusion alone could make Hybrids wish they were dead.
But places like the trading floor and the fighting pits didn’t play by the rules. They provided financial support to Xingtian and enjoyed privileges in all anti-system survival zones, allowing them to dabble in some shady industries.
"Looking for an organization?" A girl in a JK uniform with twin tails stopped beside Su Heting, interrupting his thoughts. She handed him a flyer and enthusiastically pitched, "Our language group is recruiting new members!"
Su Heting tore open the poster to reveal a riot of fluorescent marker graffiti.
He said, "The Swear Word Organization?"
"Good eye," the twin-tailed girl said with a cool flair, pressing two fingers to her temple and flicking them toward Su Heting in a spirited salute. "Fuckin' cheers!"
Su Heting: "..."
He numbly folded the poster back up.
The light turned green, and the twin-tailed girl waved at Su Heting with infectious cheer. "See you at the next protest, bye-bye, Kitty!"
Everyone in this organization was a little unhinged.
Su Heting stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave a half-hearted wave with the hand holding the poster.
It was just past noon when Su Heting arrived at the trading floor at exactly four o'clock.
The upper levels of the trading floor were all closed—those only opened at night. The underground area was divided into eight floors. The first two were filled with junk resellers as most of their wares scavenged from the garbage heaps of the old world. Broke Hybrids could find scrap metal here to fashion into implants, and occasionally, relics like cassette tapes and CDs would turn up.
The third floor was for food. The land outside could no longer grow anything, but Xingtian had dozens of massive underground greenhouses dedicated to cultivating beans and fungi. Only here could one occasionally find the rare luxury of real meat.
The next three floors were the free market, where Jiali ran a salvage shop. She usually used mission assignments as an excuse to get out-of-town passes so she could search for her missing daughter beyond the city limits.
As for the seventh and eighth floors? They were the pleasure districts, catering to all manner of carnal desires.
Su Heting and Xie Zenshu had agreed to meet on the third underground floor.
The moment the elevator doors opened, the cat’s tail began to sway.
It smelled so good.
Even if it was just synthetic meat, the aroma was intoxicating.
Su Heting had feasted just yesterday, but he’d already forgotten the taste of the big-plate chicken. His life was a cycle of instant noodles and endless mushrooms.
Leaning against the railing as he waited for Xie Zenshu, he was repeatedly assaulted by the mingled scents of various foods. After ten minutes with no sign of the man, he began to suspect this was payback.
Su Heting: I’m here. Where are you?
Xie Zenshu: You brought your tail.
Su Heting: ?
My tail isn’t illegal.
Su Heting replied: Since when do you care?
Xie Zenshu: .
Xie Zenshu: You’re being followed.
Su Heting put on his earphones, dialed Xie Zenshu’s number, and then turned off the screen. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets and started walking inward.
"Take Elevator 1. Elevator 2 has an armed team on standby."
Xie Zenshu’s signal was poor, his voice crackling with static. But he didn’t sound the least bit anxious, as if he already knew Su Heting wouldn’t be fazed.
The food district was crowded with survivors, mostly family types carrying grocery baskets or pushing strollers. Su Heting blended into the crowd while moving at a leisurely pace as if he were just browsing.
He asked, "How many?"
Xie Zenshu said, "A whole van."
Even going out for groceries got him surveilled now.
Su Heting recalled what the Hermit had said and began replaying the match in his head. He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary—just crushed Titan’s modified arm. It hadn’t been fatal.
So why was someone coming after him because Titan died?
"Get in the elevator and go up," Xie Zenshu said with his eyes fixed on his screen. "I’ll meet you there."
Su Heting happened to be near Elevator 1.
Ding—
The elevator arrived on the floor just then, its doors sliding open. Inside stood a crowd, and at the center was a stranger in a tailored suit and sunglasses, locking eyes with Su Heting.
Amid the surrounding chatter, Su Heting’s instincts screamed at him. Without a second thought, he ducked and covered his head.
"Gun."
The gunshot from the man in the suit rang out almost simultaneously with Xie Zhenshu's voice.
Su Heting's hair stood on end.
I'm the best at dodging bullets!
He didn’t even wait to pat himself on the back before delivering a powerful kick to the sunglasses-wearing man’s chest, sending him flying back into the elevator. The survivors inside screamed in panic, scrambling to get out. One man, clutching a three-year-old child, was trapped at the very back.
Su Heting stepped into the elevator just as the sunglasses man raised his arm to shoot. Without hesitation, Su Heting grabbed the man’s elbow, knocked the gun to the floor, and violently twisted him toward himself.
A bullet thudded into the elevator doorway, sparks flying.
The child immediately burst into tears.
Outside, rapid footsteps closed in from all directions. Su Heting slammed the button for the next floor.
“Shoot him!” someone barked. “Shoot him now!”
The sunglasses man jerked his head back, smashing it into Su Heting’s nose.
A sharp sting surged through him, and Su Heting’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. His grip loosened, and the sunglasses man seized the chance to elbow him in retaliation.
The man was strong—far from an ordinary survivor.
As the elevator doors began to close, the sunglasses man tried to wedge himself in the gap. Su Heting yanked him back by the collar and, with all his strength, slammed the man’s head into the elevator wall.
The sunglasses shattered into pieces.
The child was still crying.
Su Heting hauled the man up and punched him square in the face. The man’s body spun sideways, crashing into the wall again.
Turning back, Su Heting picked up the gun from the floor, crouched down, and tried to comfort the child.
“Shh,” he said, flicking his cat ears. “Let me show you a magic trick.”
He took the pistol, performed a sleight of hand, and—poof—the gun disappeared.
“So,” he sniffed, blood trickling from his nose, “pretty cool, huh?”
Now not only was the child crying, but the father had also burst into terrified sobs.
Ding—
The elevator reached the first floor.
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