Killing Intent Everywhere

Twenty minutes later, the police arrived. But instead of taking that perverted serial killer away, they took Fang Xiu away.

"Tell us honestly. Why did you make a false police report?" The police station bustled with people coming and going. A middle-aged man with a square face glared sternly at Fang Xiu.

"You think this is funny?" His initially calm tone suddenly turned furious as he slammed the desk and rose to his feet.

"You call this wasting police resources, understand? By law, we can detain you!"

"There really was a perverted serial killer! He was holding an axe and standing in the stairwell above my home. He was wearing a black hood too. If you don't believe me, check the surveillance footage. There are cameras in the stairwell—they definitely caught him!" Fang Xiu tried to explain.

"The apartment building you live in is ancient. All its cameras are broken; they're only there for show. You knew that, so you dared to make a false report, didn't you? Got nothing better to do and thought calling 110 was fun? I bring in a whole bunch of youngsters like you every month. You're already the third one this week!"

"Write a self-criticism. More than a thousand words, and make it sincere. Otherwise, prepare to spend the night here!"

Police Uncle looked fit to burst with rage, but he was actually a decent man. He did not detain Fang Xiu as he had threatened, merely making him write a thousand-word self-criticism.

By the time Fang Xiu walked out of the police station, it was already past noon. The sun hung directly overhead, and the afternoon light was scorching, yet it carried a lazy quality that made people drowsy.

Fang Xiu knew the Park Road area quite well. He was starving, yet he had no appetite at all. His mind was still on that man who wanted his life. The other party had fled when he encountered the police, which meant he still had something to fear.

But the person who wanted to kill him definitely would not let the matter rest there.

"I can't go home. I need to find somewhere to hide, then figure out what exactly is happening. What's causing this strange condition of mine? And who wants to kill..."

Heavy with worry, Fang Xiu turned from the main road onto a side street and entered an alley. The instant he emerged from it, his head suffered a heavy blow. All strength fled his body, and he was sent flying. Excruciating pain spread from his forehead through his entire body, accompanied by the dizzying sensation of tumbling through the air.

A bullet pierced Fang Xiu's forehead and blew a fist-sized hole through the back of his skull. He crashed into a dumpster and fell amid a heap of trash.

In the instant of death, Fang Xiu saw a shadow on the rooftop of a deserted furniture mall across the street, raising a gun and aiming at him.

"Fuck! A sniper rifle!"

This was already Fang Xiu's third death. Once again, he passed through Clock Space. But the bottom of the world, once pure white, had turned into a black mire. Black specks stained Fang Xiu's body like rotting blotches.

The clock's casing had also been tainted black, showing signs of rust and corrosion.

"What does this mean?"

"Could it be... resurrection has limits? If this keeps going, I can't keep coming back to life over and over. If I die again, I might truly die."

"I have to find a way to break this deadlock, survive, and then... slaughter that son of a bitch!" Fang Xiu had been driven beyond fury.

Fang Xiu returned once more to the entrance of the police station, in the exact same posture as when he had just stepped through its doors. Behind him, the muttering voice of the police officer still rang in his ears.

Without changing expression, Fang Xiu walked outside. Yet thoughts and questions kept surfacing in his mind, arranging themselves into the answers he needed. He tried to find, among them, a breakthrough from the hopeless deathtrap before him.

But he did not have much time left. At best, he had only a little longer; at worst, in just over ten minutes, another bullet would pierce his skull and make him taste death once more.

"First question: how did he know I would pass through there? How did he calculate it so precisely and predict where to wait for me?"

Fang Xiu suddenly raised his head. His gaze swept over the sky as though he were merely twisting his sore neck, then immediately lowered again. But in that instant, he had spotted a drone behind him, in his blind spot.

"So that's how it is." Fang Xiu continued walking, having figured out the cause of his first death.

"Then the second question: why didn't he act earlier? Why did he insist on striking in that dark alley?"

"First, he is wary. He doesn't want to cause a huge public disturbance. Second, he may be connected to the strange resurrection I discovered. There's a good chance he came for that bizarre clock. He wants to kill me and take it from me."

"So he needs my body. He can't kill me in broad daylight before everyone's eyes."

Fang Xiu now had his first option for escaping death. As long as he stayed in crowded places or at the police station, the other party would not dare act rashly. But that would only be a temporary escape, far too passive.

The second option was to face the danger head-on and kill the other party. That would solve the crisis once and for all and give him answers. The difficulty, however, was unimaginably great—so great it could practically be disregarded as impossible.

Yet Fang Xiu chose the second option without the slightest hesitation. So now, only one final question remained.

"How can I kill him?"

Fang Xiu looked up and spotted a small supermarket. An idea and a plan immediately sprang to mind.

Fang Xiu went inside and bought a loaf of bread, a tube of tomato sauce for spreading on bread—the kind that looked like toothpaste—and a small knife usually used for sharpening pencils.

"Checkout!" Fang Xiu stood before the register and looked out the window. He did not see the drone. It should be hovering overhead, watching from above to keep Fang Xiu from escaping through the back door.

"Fifteen. Need a bag?" the female cashier asked.

"No."

Fang Xiu walked out, tore open the bread's packaging, stuffed it into his mouth, and ripped into it savagely. He felt the blood in his veins swell and surge.

Fang Xiu was a calm, humorous person, born with nerves of steel. Repeated death was not enough to crush him. Instead, it brought out the innate talent in his blood for pursuing excitement and tension.

Now, with a pencil-sharpening knife tucked inside his clothes, Fang Xiu was like a Bronze-grade elementary schooler who had just left base carrying Doran's Blade.

What he had to face, meanwhile, was a King-ranked opponent with abundant experience, exceptional awareness, slick footwork, and a full set of god-tier equipment. But Fang Xiu felt there was nothing to fear. He was going to slaughter him.

He would make that man taste the terror and agony of Death Descent—the despair of helplessly watching his own blood flow away as he struggled, dying bit by bit.

The time was three minutes later than before. At the same intersection, Fang Xiu tossed the bread bag into a dumpster and headed toward the exit.

Against the light, sunlight streamed in through the mouth of the alley. Gray-white flagstones, a green dumpster—just as Fang Xiu stepped out of the alley, a bullet shot from the barrel of the gun on the rooftop opposite.

Fang Xiu fell at once, knocking over the dumpster and collapsing amid a pile of trash.

The person on the rooftop across the way showed a trace of ease in his eyes. Without even looking again, he confirmed that his target was dead. He had absolute confidence in his marksmanship, and he did not believe an ordinary person like Fang Xiu could evade his bullet.

Whistling, he swiftly dismantled the gun with the practiced ease of someone who had trained hundreds or thousands of times. He placed the parts into his delivery box, hugged it, then quickly leapt down and descended the stairs. Mounting his electric bike, he headed for the intersection.

There were usually few people here, let alone at this time—after one in the afternoon, when foot traffic was at its lowest. He was not worried that anyone would pass by and see Fang Xiu's body.