Right on Target (TARGET)
Jiali stepped out of the elevator and walked straight through the door.
Outside, the wind howled and rain poured down as a jeep stood waiting. She climbed in swiftly and said to the person in the driver’s seat, "I knew it was you."
Sen turned his head to look at Jiali with his hands on the steering wheel.
The third floor had been a scene of explosions and gunfire, yet the guards at the trading post had been as silent as the dead. Jiali had guessed it was Sen’s doing—among the Hybrids in the Black Market, only he had close ties with the big boss of the trading post.
Sen, a burly man with a thick beard, said, "Wipe off your blood. The road ahead won’t be smooth, and you might not get another chance to check yourself in a mirror."
Jiali picked a few shards of glass from her forehead and cursed under her breath. She grabbed a towel prepared in the car and wiped away the blood. The pain from her fingers shot straight to her heart, making her wince. "How do we get out of here?"
Sen replied, "We drive."
The sound of aircraft engines reached her ears. Jiali leaned halfway out of the window to peer through the downpour at the distant flickering lights of the approaching crafts. "What about the cat?!"
Sen started the engine and made a sharp turn in the rain. "Forget it. We need to run first."
Jiali protested, "But Wei Da’s—"
Another explosion rocked the third floor as flames spew violently and thick smoke billowed out. The floor-to-ceiling windows shattered completely and shards of glass swept away by the shockwave, raining down alongside the storm. Jiali ducked back inside to avoid being hit.
Sirens blared from the other end of the street—armed units were closing in. Sen floored the accelerator and warned, "Hold on tight!"
Jiali sat back and fastened her seatbelt.
The car shot forward like an arrow.
Su Heting removed the magazine and tossed it, along with the gun, into the fire. He kicked Axiu aside and fished out a bottle of liquor from under the couch with some effort.
Viper sat frozen in place, his limbs numb as he just kept wailing uncontrollably.
Su Heting opened the bottle, crouched in front of Viper, and clinked it lightly against his own before joking casually, "Happy early birthday."
Viper trembled before bending forward as he stared at the pool of blood on the floor and screamed in despair, "Just kill me too!"
Su Heting tilted his head back and gulped down half the bottle, the burn making his ears flatten like an airplane’s wings. His face scrunched up as if his throat were on fire. "...Why would I kill you? I won’t kill you."
Viper’s entire body shook violently. He lifted his one functioning hand to clutch his hair in terror, his eyes wide with fear. "Please... I’m begging you... just kill me!"
Su Heting tilted his head, studying his expression. "No, you still have to deliver a message to Wei Da for me. Pull yourself together, Viper. You still have to meet your real boss."
Viper stared at Su Heting through his fingers, tears streaming down his face in silence. After a moment, his expression twisted into something vicious. "I misjudged you, Su Heting. You’re ruthless—far worse than any of us. You’re insane... You’re not normal..."
Viper had been tasked with protecting Wei Zhixin. Now that Wei Zhixin was dead, how could he possibly explain himself to Wei Da?
Su Heting finished the bottle. "What are you talking about? I’m the normal one."
Monk used the broken window for leverage, rolling into the room with a thud. Wearing a gas mask, he spotted Su Heting immediately. "Shit," he muttered under his breath before raising his gun.
Su Heting tossed the empty bottle into the fire.
The flames grew fiercer, just like the fire burning inside him.
Hearing Monk’s approaching footsteps, he felt his consciousness begin to drift. Raising his hands in surrender, he flashed Viper a smile before his arrest.
"Remember to pass on my message," he said.
At 3 a.m., the lights flicked on with a sharp click.
Su Heting leaned against the wall, his eyes bleary with sleep. He avoided the light and spotted the Chief, but neither greeted her nor made any other move.
The Chief had just passed through security and strode in on her high heels. She sat down opposite him, tossed a pack of cigarettes onto the table, and pulled out a lighter.
Su Heting, freshly awakened, had a splitting headache and spoke in a low voice, "No smoking here."
The Chief paused for a moment before tossing the lighter onto the table as well. She crossed her arms and locked eyes with Su Heting. "Sobered up? Had enough sleep?"
Su Heting, slow to react, yawned first. "Mmm... Could you get me a pillow? I won’t push my luck asking for a bed."
The Chief stared at him. "You’ve given me quite the surprise."
Su Heting replied, "You’re welcome."
The Chief slammed the table and leaned in abruptly. "What were you thinking? Su Heting, you killed Wei Zhixin!"
Su Heting was already wearing a sensor lock. He raised his hand and leaned forward slightly. "What was I thinking? I was thinking about killing him. As for why, you know damn well—everyone here does. Even if I broke his legs or chopped off his hands today to teach him a lesson, he’d still be clinging to me like a damn leech tomorrow."
The Chief said, "But I told you, I could handle this."
Su Heting replied, "He took my friend."
The Chief suddenly swept the water glass off the table, the shattering sound punctuating her words. "He took your friend, so you could’ve called the police! You could’ve come to me!"
Su Heting laughed. "Hey, hey—did you forget? I did call the police yesterday. Monk took him away from the Colosseum, and then what? Then you let him go. Do the math—he grabbed my friend less than an hour after leaving here. Boss, do you still think you have any credibility left? ‘We are the unquenchable fire of resistance in the New World’—do you even believe that yourself? Xingtian, Xingtian—you’re not even worthy of the name."
The alcohol had just worn off, and something in his head throbbed violently.
A surge of anger rose and intertwined with his usual excitement, morphing into something dangerously volatile.
Su Heting realized something was off. He raised a hand to his face and found his nose bleeding.
The Chief noticed too, her expression shifting slightly. "What’s wrong with you? Overheated? You little—"
Su Heting said, "Don’t move."
He wiped the blood from his nose, trying to suppress the excitement. But he couldn’t help clenching his fist, feeling his hand tremble.
Damn it.
His throat dry, Su Heting relaxed his hand and said to the Chief, "Get me a glass of ice water."
The Chief immediately called for water.
When Su Heting got the ice water, the cup was freezing cold, and only then did he realize how feverish he was. Without a second thought, he poured the water over his head. The icy liquid drenched him instantly, and only then did the excitement begin to fade.
This excitement came out of nowhere but it wasn’t the first time. Su Heting felt it every time he fought in the Colosseum. He’d even felt it last time in the Punishment Zone, but he’d always dismissed it as post-battle adrenaline.
The Chief pressed her earpiece. "Get a doctor here," she said, frowning deeply. Then, reconsidering, she added, "...Call my personal doctor."
Su Heting’s nosebleed lasted five minutes before stopping. He tilted his head back as an ice-cold towel pressed to his forehead.
The Chief stood in front of him with a cigarette in hand. "Thought you were hot shit earlier, huh? Try acting up again."
Su Heting said, "I won’t thank you."
She exhaled smoke. "Do I give a damn about your thanks? I just don’t want you dead before you enter the Punishment Zone. You were trying to kill me earlier, weren’t you?"
Su Heting replied, "Maybe. I don’t know."
The Chief was irritated. "Don’t give me that ‘I don’t know’ crap. Do you do this often? Wait—are you on something?"
Su Heting pulled off the ice-cold towel and buried his face in it. "I don’t do drugs. Or drink."
"That’s messed up," she muttered. "The way you—"
She cut herself off. She’d been about to say, The look in your eyes was like a killer’s—it wasn’t normal. But when she caught sight of the back of Su Heting’s head, the words died in her throat.
Silently, she finished her cigarette. "Do they dope you up for matches?"
Su Heting lifted his eyes. "I’ve never been injected."
For a moment, their gazes locked and something unspoken passing between them.
Just then, the doctor arrived.
The Chief stepped aside, motioning for the doctor to examine Su Heting. She and the doctor were old friends; once the checkup was done, she led him outside and exchanged a few hushed words at the door.
Su Heting sat in the dim light, squeezing the now-lukewarm towel. He reached up, fingers brushing the nape of his neck.
He began replaying every match in his mind, searching for the trick hidden within.
After a while, the Chief returned. She didn’t speak immediately and kept pacing the room instead.
Su Heting broke the silence. "Am I sick?"
She shot him a look. "I wish it were that simple."
Hesitantly, he ventured, "So… it is doping?"
"It’s a stim signal," she said, stopping in her tracks with an expression grim. "Tell me—do you always feel like this during matches?"
Su Heting nodded. "Yeah."
"Congratulations," she said flatly. "You’re not sick. You’ve got a virus. Get it? That stim signal is like malware—it slips into your brain’s active zones through the match interface, setting off explosions now and then to make you lose control. Be straight with me—did you kill Wei Zhixin today because you lost it?"
Su Heting shook his head. "No. I planned it. You’re not thinking of pinning Wei Zhixin’s death on the Colosseum’s stim signals, are you?"
The Chief didn’t answer. She had too many thoughts to untangle. After a pause, she said, "You think Wei Da will let you off just like that? He’ll smash your skull open to see if that signal’s really in there."
Besides, this wasn’t something they could talk about—at least, not openly.
The Colosseum provided too much support to Xingtian every year… Thanks to the Hybrids, their matches drew countless spectators, and the profits from live streams were beyond imagination.
The Chief understood—sometimes, to make the matches more thrilling, the Colosseum had to tweak the fighters. Brutal, but effective. The audience craved blood; otherwise, why would rich kids like Wei Zhixin even bother? Stim signals worked better than doping and were harder to detect.
The terrifying part? These signals didn’t vanish when fighters disconnected from the brain computer interface. They lingered in the brain’s active zones as ticking time bombs.
"This is beyond me—it's out of my league. I can't..." The Chief pinched the bridge of her nose to keep herself composed. "I can't handle this. You'd better pretend you don't know anything either."
Su Heting said, "Fine, as long as you don’t arrest me when I lose it."
As he spoke, he thought back to those matches.
During the peak moments, the broadcasts would open up for live comments. Maybe those comments were also triggers for the stimulation signals.
The Chief sneered, "Arrest you? First, you’ll have to survive Wei Da’s wrath." She glanced at her watch. "The armed team spent four hours cleaning up the wreckage. Monk has already delivered Wei Zhixin’s body to Wei Da. What do you think he’ll do when he sees his son’s corpse? Break down in tears? Let me tell you—he’ll send his vanguard to blow your place to smithereens within half an hour."
Su Heting wiped his nose with a towel. "I live in a tenement building."
The Chief snapped, "He doesn’t care where you live! He needs to vent his fury—whether it means leveling the tenement or slaughtering thousands of Hybrids, he won’t bat an eye! What kind of person do you think gets called ‘the Big Boss’? Just money? They don’t just have money—they have their own private armies."
Su Heting’s damp hair dripped water. His expression wasn’t fearful, just calm, as if what he was about to face was nothing more than a rock.
As if in response to his composure, the sharp tap of a silver cane suddenly echoed down the hallway, each strike crisp and clear, growing louder as it approached.
Hearing this, the Chief paled and checked her watch again before murmuring under her breath, "He’s here."
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