Chapter 7

Countless accusatory gazes converged on him like a thousand fingers pointing, even though others stood around, he remained isolated as the lone target.

Gale-force winds and screams erupted as the alien’s massive wings whipped up a hurricane. Its beak-sharp mouth whipped around in an instant toward Horne, all chaos unfolding in a single moment.

“Pa!” With a snap, the taut string called reason in Horne’s mind finally snapped.

He had just rolled forward once.

“Boom—” The booth where he had been moments ago collapsed and sank.

His eyes sharpened as he dashed two steps, yanked a gun from a security guard’s waist, and swiftly loaded it.

“Bang!”

It was an ordinary gun. Laser guns capable of countering aliens were not allowed on the market.

Horne gritted his teeth. After dodging the opponent’s assault, he fired repeatedly at the alien’s head.

Some shots hit, some missed. The alien let out a wail, but within a short time, particles gathered at the wounds from the hits, gradually healing them.

It was impossible to kill, only to restrain.

Gunshots and roars echoed through the entire hall, mingling with the people’s rising and falling screams.

Everyone began fleeing outward. In the chaos, tables and chairs toppled messily, kicking up choking clouds of dust.

“Bang! Bang!”

More consecutive shots.

Ye Shu, hiding behind the bar counter along with the bartender cowering below, trembled as she said, “Damn it, I want Wang Wudao dead!”

Horne nearly lost control, hatred turning his eyes blood-red.

His trembling hand kept aiming at the alien, with only one voice screaming in his mind: Kill all aliens, every single one, not sparing any, even if it meant mutual destruction.

As guests and staff nearly all fled, leaving only a few security guards, Ye Shu poked her head out from the bar and shouted at the security personnel, “You lot, grab him for me quick!”

None of the security guards dared to move.

Between one alien and one gun-toting madman, it was impossible to say which was more dangerous.

The sharp beak stabbed down fiercely from midair again. Horne rolled two circles to the corner, his eyes bloodshot as he raised his gun and mercilessly pulled the trigger several times without hesitation.

Several empty clicks.

Horne’s expression changed. He was out of bullets.

At that moment, Ye Shu roared, “Grab him quick, grab him! Let this big brother with wings take him away! I don’t want the five thousand anymore!”

Horne clenched his teeth, but before he could act, intense pain shot through his body from below. A security guard who had charged out kicked him hard in the back of the knee, forcing him to half-kneel as he gasped in pain.

Immediately, several people closed in from all sides, seizing him and rendering him immobile.

“Get off!” He roared, devoid of the calm calculation he had shown earlier in the arena.

Ye Shu rapidly patted her chest, her eyelids fluttering upward repeatedly.

Ever since Wang Wudao brought this man, her heart rate had been like a rollercoaster.

Horne struggled fiercely but could not break free from the restraints. His wounds had no chance to rest, so he roared at the one holding him from behind, “Let me go, get off! It, it’s an alien!”

He glared with blood-red eyes as the alien slowly descended from midair, its limbs gradually disassembling, then reassembling step by step into a human body, walking toward him one step at a time.

Now, humans seemed to harbor no hatred toward aliens. Why?

Horne panted heavily, his head, face, and body covered in blood.

The alien reached Horne, coldly regarding his blood-smeared face, raised its gun, and pressed it against his forehead.

“Click,” the crisp sound of chambering a round.

“Whoa…” At the same time, a leisurely laugh came from not far away.

A familiar voice, a familiar tone, rang out at the entrance.

“Shouldn’t you ask me first before killing my man?”

The chaos ceased in an instant.

The alien paused its action and glanced sideways.

Because of the distance it created, Horne also saw the source of the voice.

A tall, elegant man approached slowly, his footsteps steady and flamboyant on the floor, as if he feared nothing and cared for nothing.

By contrast, the footsteps following behind him seemed much more reserved and cautious.

Horne lifted his head, his hatred shifting directly onto the newcomer’s face.

Blood obscured that face through his eyelids; he did not want to know who it was or care who it was. As long as he broke free, he would surely kill the alien.

No one around moved, except Ye Shu, who reacted first with a wail of anguish, “My big boss, you’re finally here! Your Red Light District was about to be flipped by this brat!”

Horne spat out a mouthful of blood and tried to move, but was immediately pressed down by those behind him, forcing him to see only the floor.

“Get off! Let go!” Horne roared.

“Mr. Hels, the Tower received, a report, saying your Red, Light District had one of the people, we’ve been looking for.” The alien spoke human language, its enunciation heavy with pauses and awkward breaks, like an AI not fully tamed.

Hels raised a brow, his gaze shifting to the gun still aimed at Horne in the alien’s hand, then widened his eyes in novel surprise, “Whoa, your Tower’s way of finding people is truly unique and unconventional.”

The alien did not lower the gun, nor did its face show any expression. The muscles on its face had yet to learn true human contractions; all emotions and expressions amounted to a blank slate.

“To be frank with you, I’m just looking, for someone. He fired, at me first.” The alien’s head bore clear bloodstains, but it seemed to feel no pain, and the wound was no longer visible.

Hels snorted a laugh, casually playing with his fingers in a relaxed manner, still speaking leisurely, “What if you scared him first?”

The alien suddenly fell silent. If it could make expressions, it might have furrowed its brow.

“Mr. Hels, we hope you, cooperate with the Tower.”

No sooner had the words fallen than Hels struck. Before the alien could react, he deftly disarmed it, tossed the gun aside with a piercing clatter, then shrugged, “Mm, thanks for your cooperation too.”

Alien: “You…”

Hels stepped forward, positioning himself between Horne and the alien, blocking its line of sight to Horne. He patted its shoulder as if brushing off dust, sighing helplessly, “One question: has your Tower found a new way to make masks yet?”

The alien abruptly retreated a step and fell silent.

Ye Shu, standing farthest away, grabbed the bartender’s arm stiffly, her face full of disbelief, “Did I hear wrong? He’s threatening it with masks?”

Aliens required humans to wear masks, but the city’s best mask technology was in Hels’s hands. He was the only human who negotiated with Tower aliens, and the one aliens prioritized yielding to.

No one knew why Hels made these masks beyond human tech. Using mask tech as a threat was like dropping a trump card right at the start.

At the same time, Hels heard a sob from behind.

Hels turned, and upon clearly seeing Horne’s condition, frost spread in his eyes as his smile vanished instantly, “Let him go.”

Almost the instant the restraint lifted, Horne stood and charged forward wildly, aiming to kill the alien with the small knife in his sleeve cuff.

But he crashed into a soft embrace. Hels blocked his path and pulled him into his arms.

“Get off!”

Hatred consumed his reason; he only wanted to gut every alien with knife after knife.

For a long stretch of his life, his nightly dreams featured an alien, one alien. That alien’s beak pierced his mother’s chest; she collapsed into his arms, her hand stroking his face as she softly said, “I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you.”

From then on, he never celebrated his birthday again.

He relived that dream night after night, without respite.

“Ah—!!” Horne let out a cry of grief and anguish, as if the alien before him was the one that killed his mother—the one that shattered all his beautiful dreams.

Horne suddenly felt a violent urge to vomit. His stomach churned, and he could not hold back as he retched up a mouthful of blood.

The blood was shocking, flowing down Hels’s shoulder. Hels simply held him tightly, his hand repeatedly stroking Horne’s hair in an attempt to soothe, whispering softly by his ear, “It’s okay, it’s okay. No one can hurt you.”

“Get off!” Horne shouted, trying to push away his captor, but feeling all his strength drain away. An alien was right there within reach, yet he could not eliminate it.

The people around exchanged glances, not daring to speak.

Horne trembled all over, unable to suppress it or break free, only able to roar hoarsely, “Get away, get away! Kill it, I, I have to kill it!”

“Alright, alright, I know, I know it all.” Hels continued to comfort him, pressing his lips to Horne’s ear, his voice gentle almost to the point of indulgence, in a tone only they could hear, “Be good, I’ll help you, I’ll help you. Close your eyes and sleep for a bit, okay?”

The gentle hair-stroking made Horne’s mind go blank.

In his memories, there seemed to be such a scene—someone once stroked his hair, or perhaps he stroked someone else’s, saying, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you from now on, okay?”

Horne’s final memory lingered there. A sharp sting pierced the skin of his neck, like a needle into his nerves, and he went limp at once, passing out completely.

Hels scooped him up entirely and turned to leave.

“The alien and humans, do not, wish to conflict, but shouldn’t Mr. Hels, explain, a bit?” The alien spoke up, but before it took a step forward, another person blocked it.

You Wenjie stood between Hels and the alien, his tone official, “Just now, Mr. Horne had an arena fight in the Red Light District and hadn’t recovered, so he might have mistaken you for a duel target too.”

Ye Shu: “?”

Ye Shu: “Ah?”

With his back to them, Hels had no mood for jokes, so his voice turned exceptionally icy, “Not everyone in the world named Horne is him.”

The alien was noncommittal, “That makes it, even less, reason to refuse my, scan.”

Hels frowned but ultimately permitted the alien’s action.

A blue light scanned Horne’s face, and his information appeared on the device in the alien’s hand.

[True Identity: Horne/Male/30 years old]

[Workplace: Red Light District]

[Affiliated with: Hels]

[True Appearance: (Photo)]

Moments later, the alien stepped back, eyes full of confusion. Comparing the device’s photo, it puzzled, “I got the wrong person. It’s not this Horne.”

Hels turned without mercy and left.

The alien also departed. In the wrecked Red Light District hall remained Ye Shu, stunned. She pointed in the direction Hels had gone, unable to process the scene for a long time. Her mouth hung open blankly before she finally formed words.

“Not affiliated with the Red Light District, directly under Hels—what does that mean?” Ye Shu’s mind hadn’t caught up. “Wait, wait, hold on—You Wenjie, then who is this five thousand—bah, this Horne?”

You Wenjie glanced at her and explained very seriously, “Miss Ye, that’s Mr. Hels’s lover.”