Right on Target (TARGET)
Su Heting: "..."
He forced out three words: "Thank you."
Xie Zhenshu released his grip and replied, "You're welcome."
On the display screen, a panda cheered excitedly and kept shouting "Huro!". The words "Huro" immediately appeared, rendered in a gradient fluorescent color. They flew out of the screen along with mahjong tiles and gradually enlarging and flashing brightly in the bar for a full five seconds before disappearing.
The Hermit let out an "Aiya!" and stood up while pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and eagerly offering it. "Quick, wipe it off."
Su Heting declined. Instead, he fished out a handkerchief from his own pocket and began wiping the water off his pants.
The Hermit gasped in shock upon seeing the handkerchief. "You're injured?"
Su Heting only noticed the bloodstains halfway through wiping and remembered that this handkerchief also belonged to Xie Zhenshu. He could feel the gaze of the handkerchief's owner on him, so he steeled himself and met the Hermit's eyes, finally blurting out, "...No."
The Hermit, ever tactful, gave Su Heting an "OK" gesture and didn’t press further. As he wiped the table, he leaned in to whisper to Su Heting, "You finished watching?"
Su Heting gave a slight nod.
The Hermit asked, "Did you recognize whose legs those were?"
Su Heting said, "Titan's."
Those were Titan’s legs.
When the last match ended, Titan had convulsed and collapsed—Su Heting had seen it.
"Exactly, his!" The Hermit clenched the handkerchief, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum. "You saw it, right? Someone dismembered Titan."
Su Heting frowned. "Just because he lost the match?"
The Hermit nodded slightly. "He was the undefeated king of live predictions. So many people bet on him to win before the match. I heard," he swallowed hard, "I heard even a Big Boss placed a bet."
"Big Boss" was a term of respect in the Black Market, referring to those who held absolute power here. Usually, they were either high-ranking officials in the Colosseum or major financiers in the trading arena.
There were three anti-system survival zones in total, each with its own fungal cultivation base. These bases, which supplied food to the survival zones, were all owned by the Big Bosses. Though Xingtian appeared to be the ruler, in reality, even they relied on the Big Bosses for survival.
In the survival zones, the privileges of the Big Bosses were limitless.
Su Heting thought of the endless pursuers from earlier that day.
"You pissed off a Big Boss," the Hermit said. "I didn’t dare meet you directly, so I had to ask Mr. Xie for help. But I never expected they’d dare to shoot in the trading arena—with so many people around."
Under Xingtian’s strict armed control, the fact that the Big Boss’s men could carry guns showed just how brazen they were. To them, killing was as easy as crushing an ant.
Su Heting asked, "Where did you get the footage?"
"From Jiali."
Jiali sold mushroom skewers outside the Colosseum every night—a business she secured through connections. In reality, she was passing messages for Hybrids who couldn’t gather openly in the Black Market.
The bar had no air conditioning, and the stagnant air made it stiflingly hot. The Hermit wiped the sweat from his forehead before fanning himself with his sleeve.
"What are you going to do?" he said. "I’m really afraid you’ll be assassinated the moment you step outside."
It was entirely possible.
What a damn mess.
Xingtian wanted him to enter the Punishment Zone, where a troublesome Inspector was waiting for him. Back in reality, there was a bastard Big Boss trying to kill him.
"You’re about to fight King Shen next," the Hermit couldn’t hold back, nearly in tears. "King Shen is the true undefeated king."
"What do you mean," Su Heting said, "is King Shen also one of the muscle men the Big Boss has bet on?"
The Hermit nodded vigorously, as if Su Heting had already been shot.
"You know who my boss is, right?" Viper, wearing a sensor lock, propped his legs on the edge of the table. "Damn monk."
The monk, who usually chanted "Amitabha" all day, now had veins bulging at his temples from the insult.
Viper kicked the table askew, making a loud noise in the room. He interlaced his fingers and rested them on his stomach while still staring at the monk. "How long can you keep me locked up, huh?"
The monk’s earpiece buzzed. He turned his head, avoiding Viper’s gaze.
"Oho," Viper said, "here it comes."
The silence in the earpiece lasted several seconds, and for a moment, the monk dared to hope—but then he heard the Chief’s voice: "Let him go."
Damn it.
The monk’s curses rolled in his throat.
"Next time," he turned back, glaring at Viper, "next time we’ll shoot you on sight."
Viper lowered his legs and rested his arms on the table. Leaning forward, he suddenly grinned and replied, "You. Wouldn’t. Dare."
The monk slammed the door shut and headed to the smoking area.
the Chief was leaning against the railing, with a cigarette in one hand and an ashtray in the other. When she saw the monk, she flicked ash into the tray, the silver bracelet on her wrist jingling crisply. She tilted her head back slightly, staring at the ceiling. "Annoying."
The monk pulled a cigarette from the pack she’d left on the railing and borrowed a light from her. Real cigarettes were rare, but he barely tasted it.
The two stood in silence for a long time until their cigarettes nearly burnt out, before the monk sighed.
"Don’t overthink it," he said. "...You did your best."
Viper was the Big Boss’s man. If the higher-ups said not to touch him, they couldn’t. If the higher-ups said to release him, they had to comply.
"I should’ve known," the monk continued. "Carrying a gun, launching an attack, ignoring warnings—there’s only one kind of person who can do that."
"Regardless," the Chief stubbed out her cigarette and said only one thing, "we have to protect Su Heting."
The Hermit had been on edge ever since he got the news, and now, seeing Su Heting so nonchalant, his jaw ached even more. He couldn’t help but clutch his cheek and said, "How about hiring a bodyguard?"
Su Heting replied, "No money."
"I know one who’s cheap," the Hermit winked at him and kept gesturing subtly behind him, "and pretty reliable."
Su Heting didn’t turn around.
The bar was noisy, but his sharp ears could still pick up the sound of ice cubes clinking in Xie Zhenshu’s glass. It reminded him of Xie Zhenshu’s hand when he’d handed him a handkerchief—pale, with distinct knuckles.
"Not necessary for now." Su Heting nudged his own glass aside to make room for his arm. "Did Jiali say which Big Boss is causing trouble for me?"
There were so many Big Bosses—he needed to know which one it was.
The Hermit dipped his finger in water and wrote the character "Wei" on the table. He whispered, "Got it?"
Su Heting answered bluntly, "Nope."
"That one." The Hermit theatrically raised his hands, putting on a serious expression and using a deep, exaggerated voice. "Wei Da Artificial Meat—premium texture." Then he lifted his empty palm to his face before flashing a commercial-worthy grin. "Unique flavor, absolutely trustworthy!"
Su Heting: "..."
"Oh," he said, "now I remember."
The renowned Wei Da artificial meat.
Wei Family was a giant in the field of biological technology research in the New World, their artificial meat monopolizing the survival zone markets and becoming a household name here.
Su Heting hadn’t had a bad impression of Weida before, as they regularly provided food for the Hybrids and had done quite a bit of charity work in the Black Market.
“He’s the young master from the main branch of the Wei family,” the Hermit shrank back slightly. “He’s been to the arena before and often throws money at the matches. Both Titan and King Shen have received his sponsorship.”
“The Old World is dead,” Su Heting said. “Say his full name.”
The Hermit obediently complied: “Wei Zhixin.”
Su Heting committed the name to memory.
Still uneasy, the Hermit asked again, “You’re really going to fight King Shen? Maybe we should just apply to withdraw from the match.”
Su Heting picked up the glass of ice water on the table and downed it in one gulp.
“If he wants King Shen to win, it’s simple,” he said while crunching on an ice cube. “Just wait for me to die.”
Ever since getting shot in the back of the head in the safe zone, the Hermit had developed a habit of frequently touching the spot. He didn’t dare stay seated for long, and mustering the courage to meet Su Heting here had already taken everything he had.
When the two stood up, Xie Zhenshu remained seated.
The Hermit leaned over to bid him farewell. “Brother Xie, thanks for today. I’ll transfer the money to your account later. It’s getting late, so we’ll head out first.”
Out of politeness, Su Heting parroted, “We’re leaving.”
The upper half of his face was hidden beneath his hood and only his chin visible, making him look as cold as a heartless bastard.
Xie Zhenshu’s earpiece buzzed with a voice—he was in the middle of a call. His shirt sleeves were slightly rolled up, revealing prominent wrist bones and a watch.
Under the cover of his hood, Su Heting shamelessly studied Xie Zhenshu’s hands.
This guy must be nocturnal, barely seeing the sun.
For some reason, Su Heting thought of that Inspector.
Xie Zhenshu’s gaze shifted, lingering briefly on Su Heting’s hood.
Su Heting immediately took a step forward, walking ahead.
Xie Zhenshu’s eyes swept past him, giving the Hermit a slight nod.
The Hermit thought to himself, This guy’s even colder than Su Heting. He forced a smile. “After the match, let’s grab a meal together, Brother Xie…”
Su Heting pushed the door open and stepped outside, where a light drizzle had begun to fall.
The Hermit followed and closed the door behind him before muttering, “Gotta be careful out there—these are critical times, life and death hanging in the balance. That rumor a few days ago about Xingtian sending Hybrids to blow up the Main God System? It’s like the Sword of Damocles hanging over our heads, ready to drop any second.” He sighed as he kept rubbing the back of his head again. “The great cause of human unification isn’t complete yet, and I still haven’t seen the other two survival zones.”
Xingtian managed Hybrids in the Black Market under centralized control. Leaving the city required a complicated set of procedures, followed by layers of review from Xingtian. In recent years, only Jiali had ever made it out.
After Doomsday, all high-tech regions fell, and the three survival zones became heavily fortified. The networks survivors could access now were all under Xingtian’s control in the safe zones. To prevent infiltration and eavesdropping by the Main God System, communication between the three survival zones was strictly prohibited.
For information exchange, Xingtian and the big bosses insisted on the most primitive methods. Every month, under armed escort, they would gather in a designated location for meetings. Electronic devices were banned during these meetings, and Hybrids were strictly forbidden from attending.
Su Heting and the Hermit parted ways at the mouth of a narrow alley.
The hermit said, "Since you're going to compete, treat yourself to something good tonight."
He didn’t know how to think about the future.
The Hybrids spoke of the future with pessimism. They were the mutants of the new world, stuck in the gap between humans and system, with guns pressed to their heads from both sides—trapped between a rock and a hard place.
Su Heting suddenly thought of the "Fuck It All" crew.
He raised a finger and flicked it toward the hermit from his temple: "Cheers to fucking everything."
Cheers to fucking everything, not to freedom.
The Hybrids of the new world had no freedom.
"Good brother," the hermit said, "I’ll be there tomorrow to cheer you on."
Su Heting replied, "See you tomorrow."
He didn’t move, signaling for the hermit to leave first. Once the hem of the hermit’s robe vanished into the darkness, Su Heting took two steps back, turned, and walked toward the end of the street.
The street was lined with glowing neon signs and a long dragon of advertisements filling Su Heting’s ears. But the living seemed to have been cleared out, leaving only a light drizzle.
"Vroom—"
A sleek new motorcycle roared like a firecracker, swaggering like a boastful jackal. Viper, helmetless, with his red eyes gleaming, straddled the bike and let out a long, taunting whistle at Su Heting.
"Little kitten all alone out here," Viper said. "How tragic."
Su Heting lightly stepped on a soda can and, right in front of Viper, kicked it flying.
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