The Beginning of the Adventure

Death is a sweet slumber. It does not ask where you come from, it does not mind what you have done, and it does not even care if your name is written on any piece of paper.

It simply waits quietly, like that empty bench in a subway station, like that flickering streetlight at the mouth of an alley, like a winter in Brooklyn... always snowing, yet never accumulating.

Lin An is currently embracing it because he repeatedly tested the edges of danger.

However, there are always exceptions to the rule.

A gunshot.

When Lin An regained consciousness, his first thought was, this is definitely not the alarm clock I set.

His second thought was, it's warm, it smells foul and fishy, and for heaven's sake, it's liquid... who is peeing on my face!

Anger snapped Lin An into full wakefulness. He jerked his eyes open and saw a white man in plain clothes firing a shotgun at another person lying on the ground.

The white man was less than three meters away, standing sideways to him. The muzzle was pressed against the chest of the person on the ground. After a loud bang, the latter's chest exploded, clothes shredded, and blood splattered everywhere.

Just by looking, Lin An knew this wasn't a movie. He had played with guns in Pakistan and seen dead bodies; he knew the difference between a prop gun and a real one, and what a corpse smelled like.

He calmed down immediately while assessing his own situation.

First, he was alive, which was good news.

Second, he was leaning against a wall, his back pressed against cold concrete. To his right was a pile of waste cardboard boxes, and to his left lay a person... likely dead, with a mangled back that looked like it had been hit by a shotgun.

Third, his face was covered in blood, belonging to the poor soul on his left.

Fourth, Lin An saw white text drifting across his vision, much like comments on a video stream.

[Holy crap, what is this? A death livestream?]

[This stream popped up right in my face, I can watch it without a phone, awesome.]

[Streamer, move already!]

There were quite a few comments, over a dozen drifting by in two or three seconds. Like Lin An, they had suddenly encountered this situation and were bewildered by what was happening.

The only difference was that Lin An was at the scene, while they were behind a screen, safe from any bullets.

Lin An did not move. He wasn't afraid of death, but moving recklessly now would be stupid. He waited for an opportunity, his hand quietly groping around him, searching for anything that could serve as a weapon.

Between being empty-handed and armed lies a high wall.

[Streamer, streamer, do you need a weapon? I think I can send you a gift.]

Yes, of course he did.

[Drinking and Driving sent Fruit Knife ×1. Yes or No, retrieve?]

[Retrieve]

As Lin An's thought took hold, he felt the touch of a plastic handle in his hand. He didn't look down at the knife but quickly tucked his hand behind his waist to hide it.

This was his only weapon now; it would be bad if it were discovered.

In Lin An's observation, in this place—wherever it was—there were several people lying around, some black, some white, dead or alive. Not far away, there was an iron barrel with a fire burning inside.

Aside from Lin An, the only living person left was the gunman with the shotgun.

The white gunman was currently checking the bodies. His movements were rough; he would poke them hard with the barrel, and if the body moved, he would fire.

Bang.

Perhaps before Lin An woke up, the white gunman had killed many people, or perhaps the shotgun he held was a civilian model with limited capacity. After hitting two bodies, the white gunman's shotgun was empty. He was forced to stand in place, back to Lin An, head bowed as he pulled red shotgun shells from his pocket to reload.

This was his chance.

Lin An braced one hand against the ground and slowly stood up.

As he transitioned from a sitting to a standing position, he felt the weakness in his body... his legs were trembling, and his vision was swimming.

Is this from hunger, or blood loss?

He didn't know, and he didn't have time to care. As long as he could still move, that was enough.

Although Lin An had never killed anyone, the rich theoretical knowledge he had gained from writing novels told him that with the right method, killing didn't actually require much strength.

His physical weakness made Lin An's movements slow, but because they were slow, his approach was completely silent.

The white gunman was still looking down, reloading. He pinched a red shell from his pocket and aimed it at the loading port. His movements were clumsy—perhaps from nerves, or perhaps from exhaustion. In the process, one shell missed the port and slipped from his fingers, falling to the ground.

"Motherfucker!"

The gunman cursed. Not wanting to waste the money on the shell, he had to bend down to pick it up.

At this moment, Lin An slid silently behind him. He calmly sized up the gunman, looking at his back, his waist, and his rear.

Three choices.

Lin An weighed which spot was best for his attack.

[Holy crap, he's going to kill someone, call the police!]

[Call your mom, I want to see blood flow!]

[Kill, kill, kill!]

Heart?

No, he is behind the gunman. At this angle, the latter's heart is protected by ribs. He would need to drive a fruit knife through the scapula or angle it in from beneath the shoulder blade to reach it, and the success rate is extremely low.

Kidneys?

No bone protection, right at the side of the waist, about three fingers above the belt and two fingers below the lower edge of the ribs. It is densely packed with nerves; just one strike and this gunman would be in too much pain to move or even scream.

An ideal spot.

However...

Lin An's gaze landed on those firm, rounded buttocks, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Oh, sorry, I like your ass.

The gunman had just found the shotgun shells that had fallen to the ground. However, just as he prepared to stand up, he felt a chill on his backside, and something pierced into his anal opening.

In an instant, the gunman's body went rigid. The pain felt like a grenade detonating deep within his body.

He wanted to scream, but the excruciating pain stripped him of even the strength to open his lips. His legs went weak, and the world turned upside down before him.

Lin An, remaining in a crouched position, watched as the gunman—with a tail protruding from his rear—toppled forward like a felled log. His face slammed into the cold concrete floor with a dull "thud," and the shotgun slipped from his grasp.

Lin An walked over quickly, picked up the fallen shotgun, pulled the slide to chamber a round, then turned to aim the muzzle at the back of the gunman lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger to end his suffering.

"Bang!"

[So cruel.]

[Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.]

[Streamer, you just killed someone.]

Lin An ignored the live chat. He rolled over the still-twitching corpse and searched the clothing, pulling out a folding knife, a wallet, a waist pouch filled with shotgun shells, and finally, a Ruger .22 pistol with two magazines.

Why is everything civilian-grade?

Lin An frowned, but hearing the gunfire and screams not far away, he had no time to overthink and hurriedly armed himself.

There is more than one gunman here.

After loading the Remington M870 shotgun to a 4+1 capacity, fastening the waist pouch, tucking the pistol into his waistband, and stuffing the magazines into the pockets of his worn-out coat, Lin An finally let out a sigh of relief and began to survey his surroundings.

He looked up first. Above him was a massive space swallowed by darkness, with steel beams crisscrossing twenty meters overhead, hung with broken chains and rusted pulleys.

The skylights had long since shattered, leaving only iron frames, and cold wind poured in through the holes.

Then, the walls here were made of red brick, but the mortar in the joints had turned to powder; one could scrape off a handful of dust with a finger.

The walls were covered in typical gang tags, English profanities, and symbols he couldn't decipher. In some places, the brickwork was blackened by fire, looking like faces scorched by smoke.

Beneath his feet was concrete, but it was severely cracked and covered in a layer of broken glass, rusted screws, and some kind of black, greasy powder.

He was in a factory, and it was so large that he had to turn half his body to scan from one end to the other. It was at least the size of a football field, or even larger... he couldn't judge accurately because the darkness swallowed the distant boundaries.

Lin An made a quick judgment... This is bad. He wasn't in his home country anymore. The corpses on the ground were of different races, and combined with the American civilian weapons, there was a good chance he was in the United States.

Damn it, how do you end up abroad just by dying once?

[Streamer, be careful, someone is coming.]

[Dozens of meters to your left, on the other side of a wall, two people with rifles are coming.]

[Hide quickly.]

Lin An had no time to process the fact that he had "died his way abroad." His body reacted before his brain... he turned, bent over, and moved in a few quick steps, sliding behind the nearest abandoned machine.

It was a stamping press, at least two people tall, its base buried deep into the cracked concrete like a crouching steel beast.

He huddled in the gap between the base and the floor, his back pressed against the cold cast iron, knees pulled to his chest, the shotgun resting across his legs.

Because of this series of movements, Lin An's breathing became rapid. He tried to calm himself, but before he could, heavy, rapid footsteps and gunfire erupted outside.

[Left, left!]

[They are coming from your left.]

[That black guy is firing back.]

Lin An pressed his eyes to the edge of the gap between the stamping press base and the floor, peering out through the narrow opening less than ten centimeters high.

About ten meters to the left, in a corridor about three meters wide, Lin An saw three pairs of legs—one pair running in front, and two pairs chasing behind.

"That's the target, catch him!"

"Take him alive, he's worth more alive..."

Lin An realized who the enemies were almost immediately.

[Two rifles chasing one pistol, that's not fair.]

[Streamer, sneak up from behind.]

[Don't go out there, bullets don't have eyes.]

Lin An didn't move; he had his own judgment.

The battle outside was intense. Two assault rifles and one pistol were trading fire, the gunshots echoing through the abandoned factory, loud enough to make his ears ache.

Lin An waited patiently, counting the number of shots fired by the two riflemen. Feeling that the timing was right, he slid out from his hiding spot.

"Guide me."

Lin An whispered to the barrage.

[Left, go left, there's an oil drum there that can block their line of sight!]

[Stop, they're turning around.]

[Good, they've turned back, go.]

Equipped with a wallhack, Lin An moved like a cat, silently weaving between the shadows.

From a scrap bin to a steel pillar, from a steel pillar to a pile of broken bricks, every step he took was in the darkness, and with daring precision, he stepped into the blind spots of the two gunmen.

The two gunmen had already reached the middle of the corridor.

They had their backs to Lin An, about eight meters away. The tall one had his rifle slung across his chest, holding it in a very amateurish posture, while the short one walked half a step to his right, his gun held at his waist as he swept the area in front of him.

The black man poked his head out from behind a sheet of scrap metal and saw Lin An.

His eyes widened in shock.

A person had appeared out of nowhere and was silently walking behind the two gunmen, holding a shotgun with the muzzle pointed down, his footsteps as light as a ghost.

Seeing this, to prevent any accidental injury and to stop the guy from screaming, Lin An immediately raised his hand and fired a shot into the tall man's back.

A long gun is better than a short one; the difference lies in the stock and handguard, which provide support for the user, making aiming easier, the muzzle more stable, and Lin An was using a shotgun, after all.

Therefore, the moment the gunshot rang out, the tall gunman lunged forward.

However, before Lin An could slide the pump to chamber the second shell and fire at the short gunman, the latter reacted with extreme speed, ducking low and rolling toward the load-bearing wall to the side.

The complex environment inside the abandoned factory provided cover for Lin An's stealth, but it also provided shelter for the enemy.

Seeing this, Lin An immediately abandoned the thought of continuing to shoot and walked quickly into the darkness to the side... He actually wanted to run, but considering that running would make noise, and his physical weakness didn't really allow for it.

When the short gunman rolled behind the load-bearing wall, his back hit the cold brick surface, and he immediately laid his rifle across his knees, aiming the muzzle toward the direction of the gunshot.

There was nothing there.

There was only his companion's corpse, lying face down on the ground, motionless, and the corridor further away was empty.

"Motherfucker!"

The short man cursed, immediately pulling the walkie-talkie from his pocket and shouting.

"I've found the target, but someone else is helping him... Watch out, he's an expert!"

He paused for a moment, turning his head to glance at the tall man's corpse.

"He's already killed Paul..."

There was silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie for two seconds, then a voice spoke up.

"Who?"

"I don't know, I didn't see anyone."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm at..."

"Bang!"

The conversation ended as the short man lunged forward and collapsed; Lin An had appeared four or five meters behind him.

After hiding, Lin An had been moving the entire time, never stopping, and the guy's yapping had given him the time to flank him.

"Hello... hello... hello!!!"

Lin An walked over and picked up the walkie-talkie from the hand of the still-twitching short man.

The person on the other end seemed to realize something and stopped talking, but the walkie-talkie was still emitting a faint hissing sound, clearly indicating the channel had not been disconnected.

This was interesting.

"Come quickly, I'm waiting for you..."