“Whatever.”
After ending the call with Qian Lang, Wen Jiang glanced at Wen Tianlu—the guy Qian Lang had repeatedly stressed was no good—tossed out those two words, then turned back to continue inspecting the theater venue.
“Mm—” Trailing behind him, Wen Tianlu dragged out the sound, his tone ambiguous about whether he was satisfied with the response or not. He caught up in two or three steps and said lightly, “Fine, then. I won’t bring it up.”
He didn’t talk much, sticking to Wen Jiang like a lazy tail, looking every bit the picture of obedient compliance. Too bad it was the most obvious facade imaginable.
Wen Tianlu had no intention of ditching Wen Jiang and wandering off on his own. He just hung back, watching without lifting a finger to actually help, patiently maintaining their dynamic: one buried in focused work, the other idly taking in the scenery. God knows what pleasure he got from spectating Wen Jiang’s busywork.
But his interest came quick and faded just as fast. Outsiders said Xie Qi had a moody temper; Wen Tianlu wasn’t much better. Maybe all S-Grade Combat Types were just prone to being nervous wrecks, swinging between mania and depression—their cores seeping through no matter how many layers they wrapped around themselves.
Wen Tianlu stayed quiet for a bit before piping up again. “Why’d you call me? Wouldn’t Xie Qi have been a better pick?”
Because your name pops up the most in the files, Wen Jiang thought silently.
Player 1 here always loved beating around the bush with his words. What answer was he fishing for, exactly? Pondering the question felt like stepping into a trap.
But the reasons went beyond that. Wen Jiang reached out to touch the switch on the passage wall. The lights were wired into a touch-based Supernatural Ability linkage system—no need for manual operation. With enough raw power and precise control, you could input the right ability values and manipulate all the lamps in the adjacent areas at once.
Wen Jiang flipped the switch off casually and said flatly, “Xie Qi needs his rest.”
For someone with unstable Supernatural Ability, rest was a valid strategy. He had his routine checkup tonight anyway—no need to drag him out late like this. Wen Jiang was nothing if not a thoughtful friend.
“Like that, huh…” The lights overhead snapped off. Wen Tianlu’s eyes darkened as he stepped forward into the light. “How considerate.”
Actually, I’ve been run ragged all day and need rest too—but saying that would just be asking for mockery. Wen Tianlu grinned and asked, “What about Qian Lang, then?”
Wen Jiang clearly had something specific he needed him for, something he couldn’t share with outsiders—or maybe he was worried about stirring up trouble. That’s why his call with Qian Lang had been so vague… Not that it mattered much.
If it wasn’t about him, then it had to be about Qian Lang. Wen Tianlu said with keen interest, “You don’t want to tell him what you’re up to?”
“Qian Lang worries too much. He’d overthink everything.” Wen Jiang picked up the thread naturally, not denying Wen Tianlu’s guess. If it was a lie, he’d deserve an Oscar for the performance.
But that excuse about “not wanting to worry his friend overseas” didn’t convince Wen Tianlu. He said softly soon after, “You’re pretty cautious.”
Qian Lang had never gone so far as to set curfews or house arrest for Wen Jiang. Time, place, activity—none of it mentioned. He hadn’t even planned to name his companion. Did he really think Qian Lang could piece it all together from just a location?
At least the current Qian Lang couldn’t. Wen Tianlu chuckled lightly, his tone gentle. “Looks like you think he’s pretty sharp.”
A third of the theater’s lights were off now. As the space grew dimmer, Wen Tianlu’s irritation mounted inevitably. The emotions he’d packaged so exquisitely, layer upon layer like an onion, began to peel back. Wen Jiang caught the hint of mockery hidden in his words.
The mockery wasn’t heavy—more a jab at heartless reality, pointed sharply at Qian Lang. Wen Jiang lowered his gaze, paused, then said coolly, “He’s never been dumb.”
Was Wen Jiang getting angry?
Wen Tianlu’s attention veered off Qian Lang, picking up on the sudden chill in his demeanor with sharp instinct. He stared at Wen Jiang’s back and suddenly felt like laughing.
He’d stake his reputation on it—this laugh was genuine. Wen Tianlu thought, Wen Jiang really cares about his friends, but I didn’t expect him to be this… “sensitive” about it.
Wen Jiang always came off as distant, like frost on a mountaintop. Yet here he was, riled up over a little “dig” at Qian Lang, suddenly seeming all too human. Those hackneyed scripts loved that trope for making characters feel three-dimensional, vivid—with a glaring weak spot.
It made them fragile. Made you want to strike.
His mounting frustration seemed to ignite the Combat Type’s innate belligerence. Or maybe it was that slap from before, still fresh. Wen Tianlu watched his own stirring impulses coolly, a desire bubbling up to sink his teeth into Wen Jiang’s soft underbelly, to see that perpetually aloof face twist in raw pain.
Ah, but… Wen Tianlu thought with waning enthusiasm moments later, if I actually saw that expression, I’d probably lose interest right away.
He knew himself. It wouldn’t be pity or regret—just pure ennui, like hyping yourself up for a long-awaited game release, pulling an all-nighter to beat it, then feeling hollow once the credits rolled. On reflection, you’d score it lower than your pre-launch fantasies.
In that light, Wen Jiang’s successful resistance at the hotel had been a win for everyone. He kept his dignity; he and Lin Xun got an “extension” on their interest.
People really ought to thank “civilization” sometimes. Without its rules, everyone would just be violence-driven beasts. He might not be speaking to Wen Jiang so politely right now. Wen Tianlu mused lazily, reining in his bared venomous fangs. Casually, he said, “Is that so? You know, Qian Lang was way smarter as a kid than he is now…”
The lights overhead winked out again, plunging the surrounding areas into darkness and shrouding Wen Tianlu in shadow. His words cut off abruptly, like cloth sliced clean in half.
“…”
He’d suspected as much earlier, and now it was confirmed. When he spoke again, Wen Tianlu’s tone had chilled. “You did that on purpose.”
“What are you talking about?” Wen Jiang didn’t bite, turning to face him. His midnight-dark eyes were perfectly calm, his posture free of any wariness—as if Wen Tianlu’s anger was beneath notice.
“I’m turning all the lights off.” No room for debate on that. Wen Jiang raised the high-powered flashlight he’d been holding unused, offering Wen Tianlu his only two options. “You can use this to light your way, or leave now.”
Like he was being so magnanimous, even giving “choices”? The theater’s atmosphere shifted sharply, mirroring Wen Tianlu’s plummeting mood. “Ha.” He let out a short, icy laugh laced with fury. “When did you—”
He stopped midway, realizing how stupid the question was, and swallowed the rest. His gaze turned sullen as he stared at Wen Jiang.
When did I figure it out? Wen Jiang thought. Plenty of suspicious clues and evidence. For starters, this theater’s lighting was blindingly bright—literal white-hot daylight, far beyond normal needs.
He’d felt that subtle wrongness before, stepping into the Bohr Hotel venue for the first time. What stuck out was the courtyard’s excessive lamps. It hadn’t been fully dark then; even without them, you could see the whole place fine. All those lights didn’t enhance the twilight ambiance—they ruined it. Yet they blazed on, wastefully extravagant.
The Wen Family had hosted that Bohr Hotel event. They were the most frequent guests at Gaotian Theater too.
Recent clues worked too: the slight pauses in Wen Tianlu’s speech whenever lights went out; how, after he started dimming them, Wen Tianlu closed the gap by two steady steps, fleeing the darkness behind faster; and the dropping temperature in their current spot—ever since the lights began flickering off, the air had cooled like AC cranked up.
Not cold enough to harm, though—more like overzealous climate control. If his Supernatural Ability leaked uncontrollably in the dark, turning the place into an icebox, Wen Tianlu would’ve been shipped to the Secret Tower ages ago.
All signs pointed beyond mere preferences. Wen Jiang said offhandedly, “If you’re scared of the dark, you can leave.”
Take the flashlight or go. He held it out toward Wen Tianlu.
Wen Tianlu stared at his wrist in silence, then laughed—a creepy, sinister sound. “Don’t look down on me, Wen Jiang.”
Scared of the dark?
Scared of the dark?
How cute. Like some childish make-believe courtesy.
Like pity.
Wen Tianlu drawled slowly, “Even if you plunged this place into total blackness, I could still kill you easily.”
Wen Jiang regarded him coolly, unmoved.
Dealing with these guys could be such a hassle sometimes. Lin Xun before, Jiang Hehu too—the whole clique. Getting along civilly from the start was damn near impossible. You had to wait for them to push boundaries, hit back harder, actually hurt them before they treated you like a person.
“Let’s talk something more relevant.” Half his body melted into the shadows, Wen Tianlu fixed on the light source ahead, right hand resting on a nearby chairback. “If this theater gets inspected and something’s found, you’ve got two choices too: ask your good friends for help, or make a deal with a ‘bad guy’ like me. Let me handle it.”
“Pretty standard options, right?”
Wen Jiang had already faced that exact dilemma tonight—which was why he was here now.
Alone, he couldn’t have slipped in so easily. His leverage was pathetically thin. He relied on scraps of favor, flickers of interest to access places like this. Without them, clawing his way up solo would take years.
…Guess no flashlight needed. Amid the thickening tension, Wen Jiang pocketed his tool. “You’ve got one thing wrong.”
“Friends help because we’re friends—not proof one’s beneath the other.” Tit for tat on the snark, huh? Wen Jiang drawled right back. “You don’t even get that basic truth.”
“As for dealing with you? That’d be you needing me.”
The Inhibitor Bracelet’s ability readings crept upward. Something invisible emanated from Wen Jiang, spreading silently through the space—like tentacles that could seize limbs by force, or gas filling every crevice. That night at the hotel, he’d glimpsed three deep-seated preferences in those three spectators. Wen Jiang stated flatly, “After all… you want me to hit you, don’t you?”
—What the hell?
Wen Tianlu’s mouth fell open. The next instant, his pupils contracted sharply. Frost solidified in a flash. Wen Jiang tilted his head right—a supersonic ice spike whistled past, embedding in the wall behind him and spiderwebbing long cracks up and down.
In that split second, the S-Grade clash drew to a close.
To prevent a reversal and seal the follow-up, it was a “gentle” one-shot kill. Wen Tianlu had to admit Wen Jiang chose right. Against a high-threat foe, he’d want the quickest, cleanest win too.
An A-Rank user wouldn’t notice till fully controlled. S-Grades were far sharper. If Wen Tianlu had reacted a hair faster, or Wen Jiang half a beat slower… things could’ve gone south fast.
Lifestyle System espers could never match Combat System espers in raw force alone—of course not, or why bother categorizing them? But history had seen a Super Brain that paralyzed an entire nation’s machinery, a Tasteless ability that perfectly masked poison in food. Often, sheer brute strength didn’t equate to the greatest threat or guaranteed victory. S-Grade powers proved this point especially well.
After all, they transcended normal logic.
For a fleeting moment just now, Wen Jiang had sensed a tangible killing intent. Wen Tianlu had seemed ready to erupt regardless of consequences, just to slice his throat with ice. But even without Xie Qi’s intervention, Wen Tianlu calmed after that brief rage, though dark storm clouds roiled in his eyes.
So it can reach this level, Wen Tianlu thought, his gaze fixed on Wen Jiang’s face. The frost spreading instinctively from his feet couldn’t creep under the other’s.
Not just his gaze or limbs… even his Supernatural Ability felt stifled. Was this why Wen Jiang was rated S-Grade?
Yet his brain still processed thoughts normally, and his voice worked fine. This didn’t look like someone lost in the stage’s allure, forgetting time, space, how to walk, or even his powers. Wen Tianlu quickly realized: Wen Jiang had deliberately left him his rationality.
The man at the stage’s center stated, “You can’t kill me right now.”
At the same time, the light on Wen Tianlu’s right side winked out completely, plunging into total darkness.
Then, one after another, like a chain reaction, more lights extinguished.
From far to near, using his switch-manipulating Supernatural Ability on the control system, Wen Jiang seized command of every light. He simply stood there as the night shadows—originally covering only a third—expanded outward relentlessly.
In mere seconds, the lights on the left went dark too, like countless hands chasing from behind to seize his head, his legs, his arms, his organs, his bones, dragging him into bottomless, viscous blackness. Wen Tianlu’s breathing inevitably quickened. In the silence, he suddenly let out a low laugh.
“Haha…”
Ah, Wen Tianlu thought, staring at the light, I’m really starting to feel heated up.
It wasn’t impossible to escape.
Breaking free from this suffocating, overwhelming suppression wouldn’t be easy. Faction aside, the guy was undeniably S-Grade. A clean retreat was out of the question, but if he wagered two or three fingers, let some muscle on his left side necrotize—
—”Want to make a deal?” The cool voice cut in, naturally taking control of the situation.
“…What, you want me to beg you to hit me?” Wen Tianlu asked gently. “Then thank you happily afterward, touchingly offer to help you out, and our deal’s sealed?”
Wen Jiang looked at him without interest, like he was an insect crawling over his fingernail, then turned his gaze to the darkness he’d created himself. “Want to try walking through the dark once.”
Wen Jiang said, “I’ll walk a round trip through it for you. Afterward, if anything goes wrong in the theater, you help me out.”
“…” Wen Tianlu’s smile faded. “What do you mean.”
“Literal meaning.” Wen Jiang shot back unusually sharply. “Why do you always ask pointless questions.”
The edged tone made Wen Tianlu narrow his eyes. He had plenty to say—like what kind of weird deal was this, how he gained nothing from it, or… did this guy even grasp the consequences?
No one in the Wen Family would want him wandering a pitch-black space. Who knew what trouble he’d cause, how many people it’d affect, what he’d turn into ice sculptures?
But Wen Tianlu said nothing.
He watched the perfectly at-ease Wen Jiang, feeling sarcasm, mockery, amusement—a hint of admiration for the guy, and an inexpressible anger. A faint helplessness. Exposing so much of himself in front of another felt like baring his undefended belly under their nose. This touch at his core even made him want to vomit.
And when he detected that faint, deep-seated flicker of anticipation, all emotions flattened under an invisible hand, leaving a clean, unruffled surface—impenetrable.
“Sure.” After a silence, Wen Tianlu finally spoke. “You just gonna watch from the side? Or make me do something?”
“Obey.” Wen Jiang replied curtly, pulling a coin from his pocket.
Wen Tianlu’s pupils contracted. The way he pinched the coin oddly overlapped with that actor from his memory.
Then—”Snap”—the world before him plunged defenselessly into pure black.
Fuck! His breath stalled before his mind could catch up. Front, back, left, right—darkness silently closed in, smothering his nose and mouth, freezing his organs. After a brief brain freeze, Wen Tianlu stiffly shifted his gaze. A few steps away, the theater’s sole remaining light hung down, illuminating a small patch of empty corridor.
“Ding—”
Slender white fingertips flicked the silver coin. With a faint sound, it arced like a tiny comet through the night, landing perfectly in that pool of light.
“Pick it up.” Wen Jiang commanded from the darkness.
