Act 16: Realize

[Part 1: Seeking One's Own Death]

[Ghost Arm Ron] is a highly respected figure among the members of the War Gang.

During the Nameless Ones' purge of Lieyang Fort, in that brutal expedition, Ron, as George Joshua's Wings of Light, successfully escaped Jason Megan's pursuit by navigating the intricate waterways and survived.

Once upon a time, Ron was the leader of Zero Platform, the pope of the Madness Butterfly Sect, and George Joshua's top employee.

Times have changed. General Manager Todd has won over George Joshua's heart, and White Shark Association resume his old business as a company. But Ron doesn't have the chance to step into the limelight again, having lost most of his power. He's just getting by, only able to follow Todd's orders and do the dirty work.

In the bustling wisteria flower market, I saw two candy shops: one was a legitimate shop selling desserts to children, and the other was a special den selling soft drugs.

Ron sat in an old man's chair next to the lobby. He had beautiful black hair and a ruddy complexion. He had spent some time in Hedland and had even added fuel to the fire for the local Lord of Fire in Yellow Bull Town. His body had been modified several times, especially his two arms.

Look at his arms resting on the armrest; his two hands together have eighteen fingers. These are all sacred objects bestowed upon him by George Joshua, possessing extraordinary soul power and supernatural abilities, which is also the origin of Mr. Ron's nickname "Ghost Arm".

These fingers grow from the fleshy mounds on the palms, resembling the shape of eagle claws. The extra tissue extends all the way to the upper and lower arms, and the complex arm muscle groups are full of abnormally strong fleshy growths. They are not as symmetrical as the muscle lines of a normal person. Even the strongest muscle giants in the world do not have such deformed arms.

It underwent limb modification by three Warband psionic voodoo doctors, fusing a portion of George Joshua's arm essence into Ron's body.

These psionic catalysts not only granted Ron Soul Might, allowing him to reload a gun with one hand and use heavy weapons, making him a machine gun squad member.

At 9:30 a. m., the first passenger train to Lieyang Fort had just arrived at the station when a loud whistle sounded.

Ron slowly awoke from his slumber. This was the fifth round of his duel with the Wulong Fortress Stronghold, and today's theme was capture.

"Boss Ron!" A trusted member of the War Gang rushed in from outside, bringing good news.

Ron: "Have you had breakfast yet?"

Zhanbang's cousin immediately clasped his hands in a fist and bowed, retaining the custom of the Hongmen alliance of the Red Stone people. "The brothers have all eaten, and we just caught a young man."

Ron sat up straight in his chair. "Bring it here."

In less than a minute, the thugs from the War Gang carried a dejected young man to Ron's candy store.

This young man was an employee of the knife factory. After martial law was declared in the walled city, he was responsible for patrolling the surrounding area. He had been hiding well, but in the past few days, the water and electricity had been cut off, and he had no way to do laundry. So he went out on patrol wearing a slightly damaged and blood-stained garment, and was caught by the blood-sucking unit of the fighting gang.

Upon reaching Ghost Arm Ron, the young man was immediately overwhelmed by the other's powerful spiritual pressure, feeling uneasy and trembling.

Ron strolled out the door at a leisurely pace, went next door to get a watermelon, pulled a plastic table from the restaurant stall, and cut the watermelon in front of the young man, distributing it to his brothers.

A dozen or so people surrounded the candy house, placing the prisoner in the middle. No one spoke, waiting for the young man to speak first.

About ten minutes later, Ron finished eating and drinking, and threw the beverage can into the trash can across the street with precision and a subtle look in his eyes.

"Which room do you live in? How much rent does Dongfang Hao charge you each month?"

The young man immediately replied, "The landlord doesn't charge me rent; he took me in because he felt sorry for me."

"Hey! You're repaying a debt of gratitude now?" Ron immediately squatted down in front of the young man. "I still have a slice of watermelon left, want to try some?"

The young man looked disgusted. "Who would even look at your paltry sum of money?"

"Alright then." Ron wasn't in a hurry. He was a charming, idealistic, and ambitious bad boy, and he enjoyed this kind of condescending, conciliatory negotiation. "Tell me about the situation in Wulong Fortress. Just give me a number!"

The Wings of Light held up nine fingers and opened his palm.

"Once you ask, you'll be brothers with this melon, and we 'White Shark Association. I've investigated your knife factory; it's the Laiyang Ironworks No. 2!"

"That, that, that Xiaotian!"

Ron greeted his men.

Did you work here before?

Xiao Tian, who was still watching TV, immediately replied, "That's right, brother!"

Ron then asked, "How much is the monthly salary?"

Xiao Tian immediately replied, "The base salary is 1,800 yuan. It depends on the factory's orders and performance bonuses that month. At most, it'll be 3,500 yuan. Without room and board, you won't have much money left."

Ron leaned closer to the prisoner and whispered something to him.

"Three thousand five hundred? Dongfang Hao waived your rent, it's only three thousand five hundred a month, why are you arguing with me?"

The young man immediately became sharp-tongued. "My career is glorious."

Ron and his brothers chuckled and joked, "Hey! Since when is working in a factory something to be proud of?"

Young man. "Unlike you, who lend money at exorbitant interest rates, traffic children, encourage men to gamble, and force women to sell themselves."

"Hey!" Ron grinned. "Skilled! You've got potential! No need for on-the-job training!"

The young man continued, "I make kitchen knives. Do you know how many intricacies there are in making kitchen knives? Ron? Ghost Arm Ron?"

"Then tell me about it, let me see what you've got to see?" Ron patiently waited for the prisoner to finish speaking.

The young man, sharing Ron's excitement, grinned and said, "The gunsmith once said—kitchen knives are for cooking livestock. Making kitchen knives for people is giving every ordinary person the courage to fight back. This is such a glorious undertaking, something that brings honor to one's ancestors!"

Ron's smile froze, and he gradually lost patience.

When the words "gunsmith" came out of this young man's mouth, there was no need for further negotiation.

He couldn't understand where these commoners got the audacity to challenge the Bloodline Authority and to banter with the Wings of Light of the Immortals. Perhaps the gunsmith gave them courage, but now even the gunsmith was dead!

This shouldn't be happening! Things shouldn't be like this! The lowly people, whose lives are as worthless as grass, should be forced to return to their former honest and law-abiding lives!

"Are you angry?" The young man remained kneeling on the ground, his legs firmly pinned down by his two cousins who were acting as his protectors.

Ron feigned magnanimity, but secretly he was seething with resentment, afraid of losing face in front of his subordinates.

"Ah, I am indeed a bit angry."

The young man said, "It's my bad luck to have fallen into your hands. We have no chance to cooperate; maybe in the next life."

In that instant, Ron felt a strong sense of astonishment, as if he had heard some magical story.

"Are you going to die?"

The young man said, "You never keep prisoners alive when dealing with them. I have no intention of cooperating; otherwise, I'm doomed."

Ron immediately explained, "Idiot! I didn't mean to kill you! If you cooperate, I'll even give you money!"

"If there's no cooperation, they'll just kill me!" The young man said nonchalantly, "Doing business with cannibals? Are you kidding me? This isn't about money—when I was a kid, you were a big shot. Look at your fate now."

"Enough!" Ron broke down instantly, his eyes turning red with murderous intent. He said to his gang members, "This is what he asked for!"

The leader spoke of his helplessness to his cousins.

"He's asking for it! You all heard that! The gunsmith is dead! And he's still chanting the gunsmith's mantra! I think he's the most fucking superstitious idiot ever!"

"The purpose of life is nothing more than seeking good health and wealth!"

"Since he's so determined to die, let's do a good deed and send this new kid on his way! It'll also help the Madness Butterfly return to its original state sooner, which is a good thing!"

After saying this, Ron himself felt a little guilty. He seemed to have the upper hand for the time being, but this young man had so easily given up his life just because of a belief—which seemed unbelievable to Ron.

Although the gunsmith is dead, those who oppose the Madness Butterfly will not disappear; on the contrary, their fighting spirit will only grow stronger.

In the past, when encountering prisoners who refused to cooperate through non-violent means, they could be coerced, bribed, and tortured into submission.

But in this world today, even three-year-old children deeply believe in the story of the nameless man. They believe that good and evil will eventually be rewarded, and in this very life.

"Don't blame me for using you as a sacrifice," Ron whispered to the young man. "This is your own choice. Adults have to be responsible for their choices."

The young man looked to be only eighteen years old, seemingly just coming of age. His expression suddenly changed from relaxed to solemn, as he finally realized that his death was imminent and began to feel fear. However, he still gritted his teeth, pursed his lips, and nodded.

"Can I turn around, Ron?"

Ghost Arm Ron had already taken out his sidearm, his large hands gripping the classic, trendy Desert Eagle, a.50 AE bullet just sliding into the chamber.

"You're turning around? Why?"

The young man explained, "Try to understand, fallen leaves return to their roots. I want to see the village die. When the soul returns on the seventh day after death, I'm afraid it won't be able to find its way home."

"Ha!" Ron sneered, "That's not your house! Dongfang Hao's dog-raising skills are quite impressive! Even the tenants feel at home?"

"I grew up here, Ron." The young man shifted his knees, turning his head to look at the high ground of the walled city. "Unlike you, I know you're lucky, you have buildings everywhere, houses all over the place—but do you have a home? Do you have family?"

"You little brat!" Ron roared, baring his teeth, then quickly regained his composure in front of his gang. "Fine! Two brothers, take a picture of this brave fellow and send it to Dongfang Hao. When his head cracks open, let Rolling Earth Dragon have a good look! How this kid died!"

"Going against the Great White Shark Association! This is what happens!"

The young man nodded, his body swaying up and down along with his neck, seemingly relieved.

He tilted his head back slightly, realizing that his life was about to end. He looked at the proper candy store next door, where many children had come over to join the fun, mistaking the Desert Eagle in Ron's hand for a toy gun from an online retailer.

The nameless mistress probably doesn't have time to save a nobody like me, does she?

The gunsmith's wife is still in the stronghold; she has to protect the others.

I'm very scared.

I'm so scared. Is this what it feels like to be on the verge of death? My face is numb and trembling.

Lady Luck favors the brave; will the General of Tears come to my rescue? I'm afraid I won't be so lucky.

We can't always rely on others to rescue us, right?

The young man's mouth opened slightly as he nervously thought to himself.

You absolutely mustn't tell these guys, you can't say it out loud!

If they had known there was only one gunsmith's wife in the stronghold, many more people would have died!

This street is less than 400 meters southwest of the city wall. If we can get this message to Guangling Zhixi.

Wait! Hold on a minute!

"Hey! Ron?"

At that very moment, a patrol of the warband happened to be passing by this street.

The squad leader took out his cigarette case, squeezed into the crowd, and greeted Ghost Arm Ron.

"Hey, the one in charge of the area?" Ron was a little nervous. He had exposed his weapon; he had taken out a firearm in public, which was against the rules.

The patrol squad leader first flashed his regimental insignia, then started joking around with Ron.

"It's nothing, we've just received too many complaints in this area lately, so we had to come and take a look."

"Oh," the Desert Eagle's muzzle never left the prisoner's head, and Mr. Ron took the cigarette from his superior.

Once upon a time, the leaders of the Madness Butterfly Sect and the regional warbands were irreconcilable enemies, but now, under the management of the White Shark Association, they can actually chat peacefully in a candy store.

Squad leader. "You captured this guy?"

Ron: "The commander is taking him away?"

Squad leader. "No, no, no, you handle your own people. Don't cause a death in public; it'll have a bad influence."

Ron: "Actually, this kid has a lot of backbone, it's just that he doesn't really want to live anymore."

Squad leader. "Then why don't you find another place? There are children watching over them."

Ron immediately flew into a rage. "So many men have died on my turf, in my gang! I have to give my brothers an explanation!"

Squad leader. "Why do you want his life?"

"As long as he's willing to talk, just tell us how many nameless people have come to Wulong Fortress, it's that simple!" Ron immediately became innocent and helpless. "Sir, think about it yourself, isn't that the truth? Just by opening his mouth, he can live, and even live a life of great wealth and honor!"

The squad leader immediately kicked the prisoner.

"--Be smart!"

At this point, the young man who had been caught was starting to question his existence; it seemed that even Guangling Zhixi couldn't protect him.

Whispers rippled through the patrol ranks, each harboring their own secrets. Since the gunsmith's death, the warband had been keeping a close eye on Wulong Fortress, eager to know how many nameless individuals had infiltrated and the scale of the upcoming purge. Soldiers who normally colluded with the warband had to pack up and flee beforehand. The wavering fence-sitters would play favorites, supporting whoever won.

"You clever bastard, you fucking bloody idiot! I'll fuck your mother!" The young man was all smiles to Ron, but he cursed at the soldiers of the Guangling Zhixi battle group, "Have you no heart! These bastards want to execute me in the market! In front of these kids! You're a soldier! You fucking idiot!"

"Do you have any conscience at all?! Does someone like you deserve the insignia of the Guangling Zhixi battle group?!"

"You bastard! You'll die a horrible death!"

[Part ② What a vicious gun]

"Bang!---"

The gunshots parted the bustling crowd, sending people scrambling for cover.

Ron thought his gun had gone off accidentally, but the band's patrolmen also cowered in fear. Looking at the prisoner, who also seemed shaken, he shook his head vigorously and finally realized that his neck and brain were completely unharmed.

So who was shot?

The patrol squad leader stared in disbelief at the nameplate on his chest. The bullet had shattered the regimental insignia but hadn't penetrated the nameplate, landing instead on his body armor.

The scene was in complete chaos, and the gunman was still nowhere to be found.

"Be on alert! Stay on alert!"

A little boy, no more than five or six years old, was holding a toy gun and pointing at Ghost Arm Ron, seemingly playing a game of hitting bad guys. His colorful, light-up toy started making noise.

"Bang!---"

Ron wanted to take advantage of the chaos to smash the prisoner's skull, but when he pulled the trigger, he felt a tremendous force that caused the muzzle to deflect. The Desert Eagle pointed at the patrol, spraying out a lot of bullet shrapnel! It seemed as if bullets collided in mid-air, hitting the patrolmen. The scorching shrapnel cut through the Kevlar body armor and tore open the skin on their faces and bodies!

"Ron! What the hell are you doing!" the patrol captain cursed as he tried to back out of the alley. "Have you lost your mind?! You want to fight Guangling Zhixi?! You don't want to live?!"

"It wasn't me! No! Is there an assassin?! An assassin!" Ron hurriedly explained, but a deadly sense of crisis urged him to escape to a safe place as soon as possible!

He didn't have time to finish off the prisoner, nor could he give him one last shot.

--The little boy from the candy store next door, still holding his toy gun, pulled the trigger on his panicked and bewildered gang members.

Strange, electronic music started playing from the sound and light toy, and deadly bullets flew out from the chaotic environment!

It only took a moment! Just the time it takes to breathe!

Fourteen deadly bullets claimed the lives of all the thugs present. One by one, their skulls flew off, piercing their foreheads, and the enormous energy from the bullets caused their scalps, hair, and bones to splatter outwards.

Blood stained the facades of both candy stores crimson! Ron finally recalled the ingrained fear!

Such exquisite marksmanship! Such terrifying positioning ability! Such ruthless and domineering killing efficiency! This...

He didn't have time to think anymore; he had to escape into the candy store! He had to slip out the back door!

Time seemed to slow down at that moment! He braced himself with his arms, using his sturdy beast essence to protect his head, and saw sparks fly from the stone counter next to the storefront!

That was a flexible steel-core bullet bouncing off a solid concrete platform—an incredible bouncing technique!

The bullet ricocheted and struck him squarely in the face! It made his legs tremble. Because the kinetic energy of the ricocheted bullet couldn't kill this strong, blood-sucking body, the attack turned into a long, agonizing ordeal!

He dodged to the side of the wall, feeling heavy blows to his arms, patches of raw flesh on his face, and his vision blurred. To survive, he had to keep dodging into the blind spots of the firing arc and ricochets!

But the pain never stopped! The bullets were like a vengeful goddess, relentlessly pursuing him to the ends of the earth!

Without the angle to ricochet, Ron experienced a different kind of pain!

The continuous bursts of gunfire made him dizzy and disoriented. Then he saw the steel bars in the concrete wall exposed. Fourteen more shots blasted through the wall, followed by jets of metal spraying out along the steel bars!

The bullet shattered into pieces upon impact with the hard surface, turning into scorching fragments like sword energy that sliced sharp horizontal lines into the soft wall! It was like a series of knives, slashing viciously at Ron's arm!

The room was filled with tables and chairs, candy vending machines, and rubber mats on the cash register. Everywhere there were scars left by crisscrossing sword energy and bullet fragments. Each gunshot left two gleaming silver slashes.

Blood gushed from Ghost Arm Ron's head and arm. Gasping for breath, he finally scrambled into the warehouse. The gunfire ceased, as if there were no further attacks.

He was terrified. The bullets seemed to have eyes, constantly locking onto him and spraying fire from different angles and in different ways. He recognized the ammunition; they were just ordinary pistol bullets, 7.62x25mm Tokarev Pst steel-core pistol bullets.

What a deadly gun! Only one person could achieve such positioning ability and such terrifying shooting skills!

Is it the gunsmith? Wasn't he dead? Or did the gunsmith's student also acquire this ability?

Still shaken, he crouched in the warehouse, examining his injuries. His face had been torn apart by more than fifty bullets, his hands were riddled with bullet holes, and of his eighteen fingers, only ten remained! He had to start anew!

Ron didn't dare linger and scrambled out the back door, intending to pull out his phone to report the bad news to Manager Todd.

His head had just poked out the door when the sudden feeling of weightlessness caught him off guard.

The phone fell to the ground along with my finger.

A flash of cold light, and the cleaver cleaved the neck and the phone. Before the head could fall, a warm hand wearing a leather glove grabbed it and held it tightly by the hair.

Ron's consciousness remained conscious for 3.7 seconds, which is the amount of time his brain remains active after decapitation.

He saw a mask in the toy store; it was black and white, a clown mask from a deck of cards.

The cold-blooded killer before them was like a demon king descending to earth. He held a blood-stained kitchen knife in one hand, released Tokarev with the other, and before the pistol even hit the ground, he grabbed Ron's head and killed him instantly before he could even shout his Soul Might!

The young man who had been arrested remained kneeling at the front door; the whole thing had happened so fast that he hadn't even had a chance to stand up.

A mysterious traveler emerged from the store, seemingly having just disembarked. The stench lingered from the water dispenser on the 9:30 AM train, a mixture of fast food and sweat from the long journey.

The traveler, wearing a clown mask, put Ron's head down and retrieved the cleaver and gun.

The young man wanted to say something, but he had just opened his mouth—

--The traveler climbed onto the roof and disappeared into the intricate network of buildings and alleys in a few leaps.