Saving and Killing

Lin An stood at the doorway, listening to the commotion coming from inside.

The live chat was scrolling frantically.

[The bald guy set up the tripod, three camera angles, how professional.]

[The fatty is checking the camera, looks like a Sony, not cheap.]

[The professor is shaking, he looks like he's about to break down.]

[Host, aren't you going in yet? Wait any longer and the old man is going to get it.]

[Actually, waiting until they finish filming before going in isn't a bad idea.]

[??? Is the person above serious?]

[I'm serious. Think about it, once they're done, the professor will have already experienced his most desperate moment. If the host rushes in to save him then, the professor's gratitude will be off the charts.]

[Plus, there's the recorded tape. The host can use that as leverage to make the professor do whatever he wants later.]

[Holy crap, that's a unique way of thinking.]

[Host, want to consider it?]

[The old man is over sixty, he can't handle that kind of stress.]

[It's not like they're actually doing it, just taking photos and videos, he won't lose a piece of himself.]

[Are you guys even human?]

[We're viewers, not saints.]

Lin An looked at the chat, a strange expression appearing on his face.

The logic in these comments was, indeed... very unique.

From a purely utilitarian perspective, the suggestion made sense.

If he waited for the kidnappers to finish, the professor would have already experienced his most desperate moment; rushing in to save him then would indeed deepen the professor's gratitude.

Furthermore, having the tape in his hands would be equivalent to holding the professor's lifeline, allowing him to make the man do anything in the future.

However... wouldn't this backfire?

Lin An shook his head.

"Forget it."

He said to himself.

It wasn't because of morality, but purely because... it was disgusting.

He didn't want to watch a sixty-year-old man get stripped and filmed; that image was too vivid, and he was afraid he'd have nightmares.

Lin An opened the donation list.

A smoke grenade... he didn't know which viewer had crafted it, but someone had donated a set last time, and he hadn't used them yet.

Gas masks... two of them, also donated.

He took out the smoke grenade and the two gas masks, handing one to Darnell and putting the other on himself.

Darnell took the gas mask, turning it over to inspect it.

"Bro, what is this?"

"A gas mask."

"I know it's a gas mask, I mean, why do we need to wear this?"

"Because I'm about to throw a smoke grenade."

Before Darnell could react, Lin An quickly put on his gas mask and pulled the door open just a crack.

Light from the room spilled through the gap, along with voices.

"...Old baby, don't shake, the more you shake, the more it hurts."

"Please... I have money... I can give you money..."

"We already have the money, now it's time for some fun."

"No... don't..."

Lin An pulled the pin on the smoke grenade, widened the gap in the door, and then, turning sideways, tossed the grenade inside.

"What the..."

"Cough, cough, cough... what is this..."

"A smoke grenade, someone's outside..."

"Cough, cough, cough... I can't see anything..."

The coughing inside the room rose and fell, mixed with curses and the sound of chaotic footsteps.

Someone was bumping into walls, someone was falling over, and someone was shouting, "The window, the window, open the window!"

But this smoke grenade had been modified with some unknown additives; not only was the smoke thick, filling the room in seconds, but it also carried an impossible-to-ignore, pungent, spicy odor.

Lin An turned back and waved at Darnell.

Darnell, gripping a baseball bat with both hands and wearing a mask, nodded forcefully and kicked the door.

The wooden door flew open with a bang, slamming against the wall with a deafening sound.

Then Darnell charged inside.

The room was currently filled with thick smoke, with visibility less than a meter.

On the floor, some people were crawling and coughing, some were leaning against the wall trying to find their bearings, and others were on their knees, fumbling for their dropped glasses.

As a coward by nature, Darnell was usually timid; however, when Lin An needed him to beat up four people who had no way to fight back, his talent for bullying the weak was fully ignited.

Without hesitation, he rushed toward the direction of the sounds and swung his bat.

"Ah!"

The first sound came from the left, accompanied by a dull thud and a scream.

Darnell's swing landed on the back of the bald man's head; the man pitched forward, his face slamming into the floor as blood splattered everywhere.

Darnell ignored him and turned toward the direction of the second sound.

The fat man was on the other side of the bed, fumbling forward with his hands, shouting, "Who's there? Who's there?"

Darnell circled the bed and kicked him in the waist.

The fat man's body flew sideways as if hit by a car, slamming into the wall with a dull "thud."

Darnell's strength was superhuman; this kick had at least several hundred pounds of force, and even if the fat man's ribs weren't broken, they were certainly cracked.

The third one was the Latino.

He was near the door, leaning against the wall and trying to get out, one hand waving in front of him to disperse the smoke.

Darnell took two steps forward, swung the baseball bat horizontally, and smashed it into the man's knee.

The Latino's leg buckled violently, and he collapsed to the side, letting out a heart-wrenching scream.

Darnell smashed his bat onto the man's shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

The fourth one was the black man.

He was lucky; he was standing by the window and had already found the window handle, pushing it upward with all his might.

The window opened a crack, and fresh air poured in. He took a deep breath, and then...

A hand reached out from the smoke, grabbed his collar, and yanked him backward.

The black man fell backward, the back of his head hitting the windowsill, and his vision went black.

Darnell dragged him back from the window like a ragdoll, threw him onto the floor, and stepped on his chest.

The black man's eyes were wide open, his mouth agape, but the smoke in the room made it impossible for him to breathe, leaving him only able to make a "hissing" sound.

Lin An stood at the door, looking inside.

The smoke had not yet dissipated, a vast expanse of white, like walking into a wilderness shrouded in thick fog.

The pungent odor penetrated the filter of his gas mask; although mostly neutralized, a sharp scent remained... like a mixture of chili powder and industrial glue, stinging the eyes.

This smoke bomb made by the viewers in the chat was far more powerful than expected.

[Haha, I made that smoke bomb, the power is not bad, right?]

[Is the bro a chemistry teacher?]

[No, I'm just an enthusiast. I like to go to the gel blaster field in my spare time.]

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Coughing sounds came from all directions, making it impossible to tell where they originated. The smoke rolled through the air like a living white monster, devouring everything in the room.

Lin An stood at the door, his vision blocked by the thick white smoke; he could only vaguely see a few blurry silhouettes writhing on the floor.

The chat began to scroll rapidly.

[The Professor is at the foot of the bed, near the window!]

[Streamer, walk three meters to the front right, then bend down and reach out, you'll be able to touch him.]

[Hurry up, the old man seems to have been choked unconscious by the smoke, he's not moving anymore.]

Following the guidance of the chat, Lin An walked into the room and moved three meters to the front right.

In the smoke, the tip of his shoe touched something soft.

He bent down and reached out to grab it.

The tactile sensation told him he had touched bare skin, a thin arm, cold and stiff like a withered branch.

The Professor was curled up in the smoke, his hands covering his head, huddled into a ball like a startled shrimp.

Lin An grabbed his wrist and pulled; the Professor fell from the bed onto the floor, sliding a short distance with a dull thud.

"Cough... cough, cough..."

The Professor coughed twice, his voice hoarse; clearly, he had been tortured quite badly by the smoke.

Lin An did not stop.

He grabbed the professor's wrist with one hand and clamped onto his upper arm with the other, dragging him out by force as if he were a sack of cargo.

The professor's body scraped against the floor, his skin grazing the rough carpet and leaving a faint trail behind.

"Ah... it hurts..."

The professor let out a muffled groan, his body instinctively struggling, but his strength was so negligible that Lin An barely felt it.

Lin An dragged him toward the doorway, ignoring the clattering sounds and the old man's pained moans echoing behind him.

Outside in the hallway, the smoke from the smoke grenade had thinned significantly, and the air was somewhat fresher.

Dragged out, the professor managed to flip over onto his stomach, coughing violently until his body curled up like a boiled shrimp.

Lin An stood beside him, looking down at him.

The professor was left in only a pair of gray briefs; his thin frame was covered in age spots and purple bruises, with clear finger marks branded onto his arms and shoulders like hot irons.

His hair was gray and matted against his scalp, and his face was covered in a mixture of tears and snot that glistened under the dim lights of the hallway.

Lin An took off his gas mask, hung it around his neck, and wore a smile on his lips.

[The streamer is so rough, just dragging him along like that.]

[It's not like he's dragging his own father, what's there to worry about?]

[The old man is over sixty, his bones are brittle, don't drag him until he breaks.]

[Better broken than being filmed by 0.]

[True.]

[Streamer, cover him with something, don't let him freeze to death.]

Lin An glanced at the chat, took off his own windbreaker, and draped it over the man.

The coat was long, covering most of his body.

The professor grabbed the collar of the coat with both hands, the precious warmth finally bringing him back to his senses.

"Thank God..."

He sighed, leaning against the doorframe, making the sign of the cross over his chest, thanking God for his escape from a fate of "being wide open" and "silent flatulence."

[??? Thank God?]

[Where was God just now? Drinking coffee upstairs?]

[It was the streamer who threw the smoke grenade, Darnell who kicked the door, and the streamer who dragged you out. What does this have to do with God?]

[Old man, wake up. The ones who saved you are two living people, not some old man in the sky.]

[If I were the streamer, I'd take the coat back right now and let him thank God with his ass exposed.]

[Exactly, it's March in New York, let him freeze to death.]

[Streamer, say something.]

[It's a cultural difference, Americans are like that, always thanking God.]

[Then streamer, don't save him next time, let God come save him personally.]

The viewers in the chat were still inexperienced; Lin An had long since grown accustomed to the old man thanking God. He was not only used to it, but he even had his own way of dealing with it.

"That's right, I am the messenger sent by God to save you."

[????]

[Streamer, what did you say???]

[You're a messenger sent by God???]

[I'm dying of laughter, he was just scolding the old man for thanking God, and now the streamer is just climbing up the pole.]

Robert was also stunned. Thanking God was just a habitual remark for him; how could this person be so arrogant as to claim he was God's messenger?

For a moment, Robert suspected he had misheard.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, Professor Robert."

"You know me?"

Robert secretly raised his guard. He instinctively glanced back toward the room where the sounds of physical collision and screaming were still coming from, feeling that those four people were likely hired by the young man in front of him.

Lin An stood in the hallway, looking down at the professor on the floor, the smile on his face unchanging.

"Of course I know you, Professor Robert Jero, Department of Financial Mathematics at Columbia University. You are the authority among authorities in the fields of quantitative finance and risk management."

His tone was calm, as if he were answering a question in a classroom.

"I originally had business with you, but it seems someone beat me to it."

"What are you..."

"Bro, I've taken care of the four of them!"

Darnell's voice drifted out from the room, muffled by his gas mask and filled with palpable excitement.

"I'm telling you, I hit them once and they dropped to the floor like dead pigs, didn't even twitch..."

His words came to an abrupt halt.

Because as Darnell stepped out of the smoke, he saw the scene in the hallway... the Professor was sprawled on the ground, draped in Lin An's coat, while Lin An looked down at him with that smile he knew all too well.

"Uh... did I interrupt something?"

"No."

Lin An said.

"The Professor is thanking God."

"Oh, that's normal, my mom does that too."

Darnell pulled off his gas mask and rubbed his eyes.

"Anyway, the smoke in the room is clearing out, I opened the windows."

No sooner had he spoken than a plume of white smoke surged out from the doorway, rolling along the ceiling of the hallway like a weightless river.

The chat began to flood the screen.

[Darnell opened the windows? This is a residential area, smoke pouring out of a window in the middle of the night, won't the neighbors call the police?]

[Someone definitely will, with that much smoke, it looks just like a fire.]

[Neighbors in Manhattan don't like to get involved, but with smoke like that, what if it really is a fire? Someone is bound to call.]

[How long until the police arrive?]

[NYPD response time... depends on the area. Around Harlem, it's anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour.]

[The streamer better hurry up then.]

Lin An glanced at the chat, unimpressed.

"Darnell, has the smoke in the room cleared out?"

"Pretty much, I can see things clearly now."

"Good."

Lin An turned and walked into the room, where the scene inside became clear.

Four people lay splayed in various corners of the room, all alive, not a single one had breathed their last, but...

[The white guy isn't going to make it, internal injuries.]

[That fat guy's ribs are broken, they've probably pierced his lungs, he's blowing pink bubbles from his mouth, he's a goner.]

[The black guy is in better shape, just a broken cervical spine. If he gets surgery in time he could live, but he clearly doesn't have any money, and in the United States, going to the hospital is highly likely to be a fate worse than death.]

Lin An stood where he was, watching the chat, then turned back to look at Darnell.

"Why didn't you kill them?"

Darnell stood at the doorway, still gripping his baseball bat, and froze at the question.

"Kill... kill them?"

His voice went up an octave.

"Bro, are you saying 'kill'? Does that word mean... make them die?"

"Yes."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Darnell opened his mouth, then scratched his head, the baseball bat swinging back and forth in his hand.

"Uh... this... that..."

He stammered for a long time, finally whispering a single sentence.

"I don't dare to."

[???]

[Don't dare to???]

[You weren't like that when you were beating them up, bro.]

[You were so brave when you were hitting them, one hit per person, and now you say you don't dare?]

[But honestly, a normal person wouldn't dare to kill someone. Darnell is only 18, it's normal not to dare.]

Lin An looked at Darnell, and Darnell looked at Lin An.

The two stared at each other for two seconds, then Lin An withdrew his gaze.

He looked down at the four people on the floor.

"Darnell."

"Hmm?"

"You go out and stay with the professor for a while."

"What are you going to do?"

"Do a good deed."

"Oh."

Darnell turned and walked out of the room.

After Ni Ge left, Lin An raised his right hand and flipped his palm, causing a dagger to appear in his hand.

Time to get to work.

Killing four people who had no ability to resist was a very simple matter, provided you had the resolve to kill and happened to have a sharp weapon in your hand.

As it happened, Lin An had both, so he finished off the four people with a clean, swift stab into their chests, piercing their hearts. The process was calm and ripple-free, with nothing worth describing.

Lin An felt neither happy nor sad about this.

He simply finished what he had to do, wiped the dagger on the bedsheets, flipped his palm, and the dagger vanished.

He turned and walked out of the room.

In the hallway, the professor was still sitting on the floor. Seeing Lin An walk out, his lips trembled.

"Alright, Professor, let's keep this brief."

Lin An said.

"I originally intended to kidnap you to have you do me a small favor, but since I just saved you and helped you avoid the worst possible outcome, if you do me a favor now, we'll be even."

Robert swallowed hard. He was certain his previous guess had been wrong, because this young man was too ruthless and too arrogant; if he wanted to do something, he would likely just do it directly rather than beating around the bush.

"My situation is a bit complicated and can't be explained clearly in a short time here. You and Darnell should leave first. I'll handle the matters inside so that when the police arrive later, we won't be implicated."

[Streamer, don't forget to take the money; fifty thousand US dollars are in that bag.]