Crossing Paths

The sea wind howled through Pomo Port, gradually thinning the dense fog beneath the combined assault of the wind and the music surrounding Alex.

Alex stood tall in his dashing black trench coat. The smooth silver mask beneath his hood looked utterly mysterious as he moved through the thin mist toward the two boxes of spoils. When he reached them, his eyes swept the area. Everyone around him had either been killed by him or accidentally shot dead by their own people in the panic after he threw the flashbang.

Blood pooled across the ground, and nearly twenty corpses formed a gruesome scene. He stood amid them, his black trench coat mysterious and cruel.

He bent slightly and lifted the two black cases with both hands. At that moment, the sea wind blew away all the smoke, revealing his enigmatic figure.

Just as the sea wind cleared the smoke, armed figures continuously rushed out of the alleyways. They were well-trained and agile, quickly taking up positions in a fan-shaped formation that cut off Alex's escape route by land.

"Drop the stolen goods! Hands on your head and get down!"

Al Swan wore a thick black bulletproof vest. His left hand supported the M9 pistol in his right, and his hawkish eyes fixed gloomily and sharply on the figure before him as he roared in a deep voice.

He had already partnered with a sizable gang from Central City. They would provide protection in Lower City and establish a location for profit-making operations within his control.

Today had originally been an operation to crack down on uncooperative members of the newly risen Severed Hand Gang and the Russian Gang, as well as a chance for him to establish authority and demonstrate his capabilities after arriving in Lower City.

After making a series of police deployments, he had laid an ambush here.

He simply had not expected the Lower City gangs to be so brazen. They actually had grenades and heavy weapons like rocket launchers. When he first saw them, he had sternly considered retreating, believing he had underestimated Lower City's chaos. But when he saw the mysterious man in the black trench coat wipe out the gang members here with just a flashbang and a smoke grenade, another thought arose. The other party was alone. Arresting this mysterious man would count as his first major achievement since coming to Lower City.

Having witnessed people with genuine superpowers, Al Swan knew some people were unimaginably powerful, beyond all measure. He suspected that the mysterious man before him was one of them.

After all, no one showed up carrying a loudspeaker and their own background music, then so arrogantly and efficiently dealt with nearly thirty gangsters.

His superpower was very likely having his own background music!

But what use was that superpower?

Cautious and alert, his body tense, he shuffled forward with his feet pressed tightly to the ground. He released his left hand from beneath his right, raised it to direct the officers closing in around them, his hawkish eyes sharp as he shouted again, "Drop the stolen goods! Hands on your head and get down! Did you hear me?! Turn off the music!!!"

The system was quite cooperative. The music, which had originally been full-body 3D surround sound, immediately withdrew from in front of Alex. It contracted from all 360 degrees around him to a forty-five-degree position behind him, where it continued playing and became genuine "background music."

Al Swan!

Alex stood in place, carrying the two black cases in both hands. His deep eyes behind the smooth silver mask looked toward Al Swan, and he felt somewhat surprised.

So the people lying in ambush here were the police. And Al Swan at that.

He had originally assumed they were another gang looking to rob the robbers, so he had ignored them. He had not sensed the slightest threat from them, and they would have been useful in spreading word of his superheroic deeds. Now, it seemed that was out of the question.

With that in mind, Alex no longer had any interest in playing around with the police.

His deep gaze swept across the thirteen officers surrounding him in a fan-shaped formation. In his mind, the muzzles of their guns instantly became intersecting three-dimensional lines, all converging on him.

Unless bullets could turn corners, they would have a hard time harming him.

He fully activated his senses as the sea breeze lightly stirred, making his trench coat flutter loudly.

In an instant, within his sight, smell, hearing, and perception, everything within several hundred meters seemed to become his domain. He could clearly see every speck of dust nearby, hear the movement of the wind through the air, the heartbeats of the thirteen officers, and the taut sound of Al Swan's right hand nervously rubbing against the pistol grip.

Alex released the two black cases. At the moment they hung in the air, about to hit the ground, the sleeves of his black trench coat shook, and the throwing knives hidden within slipped into the gaps between his fingers. Eight gleaming throwing knives flashed between his fingers before he clenched them tight.

Alex stepped forward. Eight flashes erupted with dazzling Silver Glow in the night, shooting toward eight directions and carving out brilliant silver streaks.

"Open fire... Aah...!"

Al Swan's eyes sharpened. He reacted quickly; the instant he saw Alex release the black cases, he shouted for his men to fire and pulled the trigger. A bullet struck the spot where Alex had just been standing.

Then, one of the eight dazzling knife flashes pierced his gun-holding right hand. Pain made his right hand tremble violently, and he released his pistol, letting it fall to the ground. His pupils contracted as he stared at the throwing knife embedded in the back of his hand.

The blade light flashed like a meteor, arriving in the blink of an eye.

The throwing knives were tiny, only about the size of an index finger, yet they caused the surrounding officers to cry out repeatedly.

The remaining five officers heard the command and instantly fired at Alex's original position. After Alex dodged the first wave of fire, the continuous gunfire began chasing his figure.

Another five icy throwing knives flashed with exceptionally dazzling Silver Glow in the night. The five knives embedded themselves in the backs of the remaining five officers' hands, making them scream again and again.

Al Swan gritted his teeth, his eyes wide, cold sweat streaming down his forehead. He watched Alex evade bullets like a ghost and send throwing knives flashing into meteor-like silver lines, disarming all thirteen officers. The shock in his heart was beyond measure.

Alex's black figure seemed like a ghostly phantom among Al Swan and the officers clutching their injured right hands in agony.

"Officer, please do not stop me from purging the evil of Lower City!"

From beneath his smooth silver mask, Alex deliberately spoke in a deep, resolute, fearless voice.

After speaking, he bent down again and, as though no one else existed, picked up the two black cases filled with white powder and money. He broke into a sprint, and under Al Swan's gaze, ran up the side of the nearest small building. He raced and leaped across the rooftops, then within seconds jumped into a dark alley and vanished.

Al Swan gritted his teeth as he stared at Alex's departing back. Suddenly, he felt a flash of a familiar scene replaying itself, a sense of déjà vu as though he had seen it somewhere before, yet had not.

His face darkened as he turned to look at the throwing knife embedded in the back of his hand. On its small handle were engraved the words: Silver Glow.