Chapter 30: Kill Him
Unlike the city, where even at night there was some visibility from streetlights, here, darkness was absolute.
The pitch-black surroundings made Tang Yu’an’s heart race.
It’s okay, he told himself. Just the night light broke, no big deal.
He fumbled for his phone, the returning light calming him down.
He examined the night light. It seemed to have shattered from the inside.
Even a faulty product shouldn’t break like this. It was more like something had caused it to vibrate.
Then, he felt a gust of wind, a sharp sting against his cheek.
Wait, the windows and doors were closed, where was the wind coming from?
But the movement of air was real. He raised his hand, sensing the surrounding air thicken.
It wasn’t wind, it was mental energy.
There were only two of them here; it had to be Yu Liao.
A person’s mental energy reserves were limited, especially for untrained individuals who didn’t know how to use it efficiently. Even a small exertion could be tiring, and excessive release could be dangerous.
Like a rubber band, it needed to be used with care. If stretched too far, it would lose its elasticity and snap. The same applied to humans.
That was why Zuo Tinghan’s earlier episode had been so dangerous. If Tang Yu’an hadn’t intervened, he would have burned out and died.
A surge of mental energy wasn’t a small matter, but Yu Liao’s current situation didn’t seem that severe.
Although his mental energy was chaotic, it wasn’t aggressive, more like a pack of scattered wolves, running around aimlessly, without a specific target.
Perhaps he was having a nightmare.
Usually, there was no need to intervene; it would subside on its own. But as Tang Yu’an hesitated, the mental energy in the air shifted, forming sharp blades that suddenly lashed out.
Thanks to the system’s crisis alert, he narrowly dodged them, avoiding serious injury.
He quickly gathered his belongings, holding them close, then raised a mental energy barrier.
He didn’t mind being hit, but he couldn’t risk damaging his phone or the mirror; otherwise, he would have no chance of escaping.
He had been thinking that if Yu Liao changed his mind and attacked him, he would climb out the window while he was asleep and keep walking until he found a signal.
But it was risky. He would have to watch out for both Yu Liao and wild beasts.
He had no weapons, and his mental energy wasn’t offensive. His only defense against a beast that could bite a person in half was playing dead.
Or he might simply get lost, wandering until he collapsed from exhaustion.
The outside world was full of dangers. While Yu Liao was still relatively sane, it was better to stay here and wait for rescue.
Perhaps Yu Liao assumed he wouldn’t leave, which was why he hadn’t restricted his movements.
Not just the night light, but all the lights in the cabin were unresponsive. The power was out.
Using his phone as a flashlight, Tang Yu’an walked through the living room. The fruit bowl was overturned, chairs scattered around, as if a fight had taken place.
More attacks struck his barrier. He could feel the fluctuations intensifying as he approached Yu Liao’s room.
The door was ajar. Tang Yu’an called out, receiving no response, then entered.
Yu Liao lay on the bed, the covers thrown aside, his breathing shallow, but he was asleep.
Tang Yu’an tried to wake him, but he didn’t respond, seemingly unable to hear him, only frowning, his sleep restless.
He had had nightmares before, but this time was different.
The accumulated mental instability had reached a critical point, about to erupt.
In his dream, Yu Liao was back in that blood-soaked alley, holding the knife, his supervisor lying dead on the ground.
The scene was so vivid that he felt the man deserved it.
No, he had died too quickly. His revenge wasn’t complete.
So, he crouched down, wanting to inflict more wounds.
The sensation of the blade piercing flesh was so satisfying that he even twisted the knife.
It started to rain, soaking him to the bone, but he didn’t notice.
The power of life and death was finally in his hands. He would repay the pain inflicted on him a thousandfold.
Didn’t you look down on me? Didn’t you call me a dog?
I’ll carve up that fat you gained from exploiting others…
Consumed by hatred, his mind lost control.
But as he pulled out the knife, the person before him suddenly transformed into Tang Yu’an.
His face was cut, the blood from the wound washing away in the rain, leaving a red streak against his pale skin, stark and horrifying.
Yu Liao felt a stab in his chest. He moved his eyes slowly, as if he had forgotten how to use his body.
He didn’t remember who this person was, but he knew him.
Why you? Why are you here…?
Then came a surge of rage.
Who hurt him and left him here? He had to find that person and kill him. He had experience, he could do it…
Tang Yu’an’s eyes were sensitive, easily tearing up, like a clear, tranquil lake.
But now, those jewel-like eyes were dull, devoid of their usual brightness.
What’s wrong with him? Yu Liao thought sluggishly. He shouldn’t be like this, lying here lifelessly.
Anyone who did this to him would pay.
His gaze lowered, seeing the blood gushing from Tang Yu’an’s abdomen.
His mind reeled, and he dropped the knife, the splash of water jolting him.
He looked at his hands, stained red with blood, the rain washing over them, unable to cleanse them.
What… what have I done…?
He picked up Tang Yu’an, his heightened senses clearly registering the gradual loss of warmth in his arms.
He had just died.
His vision blurred; he couldn’t see his face clearly.
Then, he felt the body in his arms tremble slightly.
Hope flickered back to life. He’s not dead, right? He’s just injured. If he gets him to a hospital quickly, he can…
Yu Liao rubbed his eyes, his vision clearing.
But he wished he hadn’t seen it—
There was no movement in his chest.
He realized then that it was he who was trembling.
He frantically pressed against the wound, but blood continued to gush out between his fingers.
How could a person have so much blood? But this horrifying scene seemed endless.
The overwhelming red stained the rain, becoming thick and cold, as if they were submerged in paint.
Some eccentric artists would cover themselves in paint and stand on the street, calling it performance art.
In his dream, Yu Liao felt like they were puppets, controlled by an unseen hand, forced to perform in this macabre painting, his body acting against his will, their pain and tears a source of amusement for the unseen puppeteer, who claimed this was true art.
Who, who forced them into this…?
He shouted, only the crack of thunder answering him.
His face was illuminated by a flash of lightning, a ghostly figure clutching a lifeless body.
As thunder rumbled, he saw the thick night sky fall, countless hands reaching for him, like an inverted hell.
He retreated, holding the body close, but his path was blocked. He couldn’t escape.
He had only one thought—
He couldn’t let him be taken away.
What to do, what to do…?
Even a cornered rabbit would bite. When pushed to the brink, a person could unleash unimaginable power.
Yu Liao retreated to the wall, gently placing the body down.
It’s okay, he said. I’ll be right back.
Then he turned and picked up the fallen knife.
Black, monstrous figures, half-human, half-beast, lunged at him, their claws tearing at his flesh.
He only had a small knife. It wasn’t enough. So his body strengthened, his muscles bulging, as if clad in armor.
Blood vessels burst beneath his skin. He pressed forward relentlessly, grabbing the enemy’s throat.
Die!
Just as he was about to tighten his grip, he heard a voice calling from above.
He tried to ignore it, but the second call followed.
“Yu Liao…”
The voice seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“…Wake up, it’s me…”
Who was calling him? Whose voice was this, drifting from the edge of the universe?
The voice seemed to be in pain, and he felt a sudden pang in his chest.
“…It’s me…”
Who are you?
A name, he just needed a name!
“It’s… Tang Yu’an…”
The world shifted, the storm ceasing abruptly. He was like a small insect in a ditch, suddenly seeing a sliver of daylight through a crack in the stone.
The dream shattered, and Yu Liao opened his eyes.
He saw the scene before him, his pupils constricting, and immediately released his grip.
Freed from his grasp, Tang Yu’an stumbled back, leaning against the wall, clutching his throat and coughing.
He had been afraid Yu Liao wouldn’t wake up from his nightmare, so after calling out to him with no response, he had gently touched his shoulder.
But the dreaming man, as if startled, had suddenly grabbed his throat.
Perhaps Yu Liao hadn’t intended to kill him, as the system hadn’t issued a warning. He had been caught completely off guard.
He could neutralize mental energy attacks, but he was defenseless against physical assault.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t trained. Against an ordinary person, the moves Wei Langxing taught him would be enough to escape.
But Yu Liao’s entire body had been enhanced. Against such overwhelming strength, any resistance was futile.
Feeling the tightening grip around his throat, he could only try to wake Yu Liao up.
Fortunately, he succeeded. Tang Yu’an gasped for air, the black spots in his vision fading.
He looked at Yu Liao, then froze, seeing his expression.
Why did he look like he was the one who had just been choked?
Yu Liao stared at Tang Yu’an’s neck, making him uncomfortable. He tried to cover it with his collar.
Lack of oxygen had flushed his cheeks. He took a few deep breaths, his breathing returning to normal.
Yu Liao hadn’t actually used much force, perhaps only two or three tenths of his strength, but Tang Yu’an’s skin bruised easily, making it look worse than it was.
He had even caused a misunderstanding with Wei Langxing because of this, who kept asking if he was being bullied, and he had to explain repeatedly that the marks were from training.
The next day, Wei Langxing had brought back a set of training equipment designed for minors, claiming it was a beginner’s set to protect his pride, but Tang Yu’an knew the truth, accepting his kindness without comment.
Since then, he had often been troubled by his sensitive skin, and this time was no exception.
He wanted to tell Yu Liao that it wasn’t as serious as it looked, but his voice was hoarse.
Yu Liao’s reaction was even worse, as if he had been hit on the head.
But it seemed to have fully awakened him. He frantically poured some warm water and applied a cold compress to the slightly red marks on his neck.
Even after Tang Yu’an assured him it was fine, he continued to apologize profusely.
Tang Yu’an wanted to say that if he was truly sorry, he could just send him back, but he knew Yu Liao’s mental state was highly unstable, and pushing him might cause him to completely lose control.
His illness was worsening.
He remembered the businessman who had also been involved with Yi Xin Pharmaceuticals, completely broken when Xie Cun found him, choosing to jump from a building to escape his torment.
Would Yu Liao… end up the same way?
Tang Yu’an felt a surge of sadness, feeling like Yu Liao was sinking into quicksand, and he couldn’t pull him out.
He easily teared up when moved, and the lack of oxygen earlier made his eyes water.
He didn’t notice, but Yu Liao did—
So, as Tang Yu’an looked at him, puzzled, Yu Liao started to cry.
He sobbed uncontrollably, making Tang Yu’an panic.
I’m the one who was injured, and it’s not even that serious, why are you crying?
He tried to comfort him.
But unexpectedly, his attempts only made Yu Liao cry harder, as if his entire world had just collapsed.
Tang Yu’an assumed he was still reeling from the nightmare, asking if he wanted another blanket.
When he was scared, being warm made him feel safer.
Yu Liao shook his head, feeling terrible, having done such a thing, yet being comforted by Tang Yu’an.
All his suppressed emotions surged forth.
He was back in his dream, the ceiling closing in, the walls shifting, whispers echoing around him.
“Your supervisor was right, you’re useless!”
“You’re nothing but a burden!”
“Give up, there’s no hope…”
“Yu Liao, you should have died a long time ago…”
“He won’t like you, you hurt him, he wants you dead!”
“Then kill him, what are you afraid of? You’ve done it before, then he’ll be yours forever…”
“Yes, kill him, keep him!”
“Do it, Yu Liao, do it!”
Yu Liao covered his ears, trying to block out the voices, but they were a product of his own mind, impossible to silence.
They burrowed into his mind, a sharp, piercing pain, like needles being driven into his temples, twisting and turning.
His senses were heightened, but the chaotic details overwhelmed him.
Stop it, stop it, he pleaded silently, but the voices only intensified, making him oblivious to Tang Yu’an’s calls.
Initially, Tang Yu’an thought he was just agitated and would calm down soon.
But Yu Liao became unresponsive, clutching his head, curling up, begging the voices to stop, his pleas turning into sobs, clearly tormented by his hallucinations.
Although he had some basic first-aid knowledge, he wasn’t a professional and didn’t know what to do.
Although he didn’t expect much, he could only turn to the system as a last resort.
“He seems to be in a lot of pain. What should I do?”
[Please do not waste time on non-protagonist characters, Host. Return to the main storyline.]
As always.
The system didn’t care about anyone but the protagonists, and it wouldn’t provide information that might deviate from the mission.
Initially, he had found it cold and unfeeling, but later, realizing it was just a robot following its programming, he stopped arguing with it.
He often wondered if it was some higher power that had ordained all this, or if this was simply the nature of these worlds.
If you weren’t a protagonist, you were just a small, insignificant insect, vulnerable to everything from illness and natural disasters to human malice.
You could only drift along, hiding in a corner, praying for survival.
No one cared whether you lived or died; after all, who would pay attention to a tiny insect?
Perhaps only another insect would notice.
Tang Yu’an repeatedly tried to wake Yu Liao, but his attempts were futile.
His condition worsened, approaching Zuo Tinghan’s earlier state.
His mental energy surged, threatening to tear the cabin apart.
Tang Yu’an tried to suppress it, but he lost control, his own mental energy spreading outwards.
He didn’t see the small mirror in his bag vibrate as his mental energy washed over it.
The mirror’s surface rippled, then words appeared.
“Location confirmed. Estimated arrival time: three hours. Hold on.”
————
The Strategic Processing Center was brightly lit. Wei Langxing picked up the files he had thrown on the floor in anger, forcing himself to calm down.
“Fifty hours,” his voice was hoarse, his hands gripping the table. “And we still haven’t found anything.”
They had reviewed all the surveillance footage repeatedly and interviewed the few people close to Yu Liao.
Most of them cooperated. Only Zheng Zhi, when they visited him, shrugged indifferently: “He was my classmate, but we weren’t close. I already did him a favor by getting him a job. Don’t bother me about his affairs anymore, Captain Wei. Do me a favor, okay?”
Somehow, the accusations against him regarding the identity theft had vanished, and Zheng Zhi remained firmly in his position as director, even joking that desperate people would resort to any slander, but he had nothing to fear, his conscience was clear.
Without official documentation, it was just hearsay.
Pang Jin was furious, but the higher-ups wanted to suppress the matter, and he couldn’t do anything.
After this incident, Zheng Zhi seemed even more confident, initially refusing to even meet with them, wanting his secretary to send them away. Wei Langxing had to force his way in.
But even then, he remained uncooperative: “I always thought that Yu Liao was a bit unstable, but I didn’t expect him to kidnap a Bureau officer… I heard your colleague willingly stayed with him. Is it possible they were in cahoots, planning some kind of Bonnie and Clyde act? I saw his picture, Tang Yu’an, right… He’s quite handsome, I can understand why he’d do something like that.”
With Tang Yu’an’s life in danger, Zheng Zhi’s flippant tone enraged Wei Langxing. He wanted to punch his teeth out.
Zuo Tinghan, standing beside him, lost his patience, about to attack, but he was stopped.
Zuo Tinghan even tried to hit Wei Langxing: “Get out of the way!”
Zheng Zhi insulted Tang Yu’an, yet he wouldn’t let him retaliate. Such a weak person didn’t deserve to command him.
Wei Langxing scolded him sternly: “If you get dismissed now, how are you going to find him?”
Offending a director would have consequences, and they needed every available person right now. Wei Langxing knew he had to be patient.
As for Zheng Zhi… he would deal with him after rescuing Tang Yu’an.
Zuo Tinghan calmed down, and they left, their faces dark, as Zheng Zhi bid them farewell mockingly.
The investigation hit a dead end, leaving them frustrated.
After instructing Pang Jin’s subordinates to re-examine all the data, Wei Langxing slumped in his chair, feeling defeated.
He had never felt so powerless, so utterly useless.
Zuo Tinghan continued his large-scale search, while Xie Cun stayed with him, trying to find clues through technical means.
Normally, Xie Cun would boast about owning several satellites, but now he worked in silence.
Wei Langxing, feeling his mind stuck, went to the restroom to splash cold water on his face, hoping to jolt his thinking.
As he returned, he encountered a panicked subordinate: “Captain Wei, our system has been hacked!”
Wei Langxing rushed to the main hall.
This wasn’t a small matter. The Bureau’s system had the highest level of security. And at this critical moment, who…?
He stopped, staring at the screens, just like Xie Cun beside him.
All the screens, large and small, displayed the same address.
Below it, a message in bold letters:
“Tang Yu’an is here. Come quickly.”
