Lin An stood at the doorway, listening to the commotion inside.
The bullet screen was going wild.
[The bald guy's got the tripods set up. Three cameras—pretty professional.]
[The fat guy's checking the camera. Looks like a Sony. Not cheap.]
[The professor's shaking. Looks like he's about to break down.]
[Streamer, are you still not going in? Wait any longer and the old man's gonna get... you know.]
[Honestly, there's nothing wrong with waiting until they're done before going in.]
[??? Are you serious, poster above?]
[I'm serious. Think about it: once they're done, the professor will have been through the most desperate moment of his life. If the streamer charges in to save him then, the professor's gratitude will go through the roof.]
[And with the recording in hand, the streamer can use it to keep the professor in line. He could make him do anything.]
[Holy crap, that's some outside-the-box thinking.]
[Streamer, consider it?]
[The old man's in his sixties. He can't take that kind of treatment.]
[They're not actually doing anything. They're just taking photos and videos. It's not like he'll lose a limb.]
[Are you people even human?]
[We're viewers, not saints.]
Lin An looked at the bullet screen, a peculiar expression crossing his face.
The way these viewers thought really was... unconventional.
From a purely pragmatic perspective, their suggestion made sense.
If he waited until the kidnappers were done, the professor would have been through the most desperate moment of his life. Rescuing him then would indeed make him even more grateful.
And with the recording in hand, Lin An would have the professor's fate in his grasp. He could make him do anything.
But... wouldn't that backfire?
Lin An shook his head.
"Forget it."
He said it to himself.
Not because of morality. It was simply... disgusting.
He didn't want to watch some guy in his sixties get stripped naked and filmed. The thought was so horrifying that he was afraid he'd have nightmares if he saw it.
Lin An opened the tip-reward list.
One smoke grenade... He wasn't sure which viewer had made it, but someone had tipped him a set last time, and he hadn't used any yet.
Two gas masks... Also tips.
He took out the smoke grenade and both gas masks. He handed one to Darnell and put the other on himself.
Darnell took the gas mask and turned it over in his hands.
"Bro, what's this?"
"A gas mask."
"I know it's a gas mask. I mean, why are we wearing these?"
"Because I'm about to throw a smoke grenade."
Before Darnell could react, Lin An quickly put on his gas mask and cracked the door open.
Light spilled through the gap, along with voices.
"...Sweetheart, don't shake. The more you shake, the more it'll hurt."
"Please... I have money... I can give you money..."
"We've already got money. Now it's time for some fun."
"No... please..."
Lin An pulled the pin from the smoke grenade, widened the gap in the door, then turned sideways and tossed the grenade inside.
"What..."
"Cough, cough... What is this..."
"It's a smoke grenade! Someone's outside..."
"Cough, cough... I can't see..."
Coughs rang out around the room, mixed with curses and the chaos of hurried footsteps.
Someone slammed into a wall. Someone fell. Someone shouted, "The window! Open the window!"
But someone had apparently added something to the grenade. Its smoke was thick enough to fill a room in seconds, and it had a sharp, unmistakable sting.
Lin An turned and waved to Darnell.
Darnell gripped his baseball bat with both hands, his mask in place. He nodded firmly and kicked the door.
The wooden door flew open and slammed into the wall with a loud bang.
Then Darnell charged inside.
The room was now filled with smoke, visibility less than a meter.
One person was on the floor, coughing. Another was feeling along the wall, trying to find his way. A third was on his knees, groping for his fallen glasses.
Darnell was a cowardly Ni Ge, but when Lin An needed him to beat up four helpless people, his admirable tendency to pick on the weak came to the fore...
Without hesitation, he charged toward the sound he heard and swung his bat.
"Ah!"
The first cry came from the left, followed by a dull thud and a scream.
Darnell's swing caught the bald man on the back of the head. The man pitched forward and smashed his face into the floor, blood spurting from his nose.
Darnell ignored him and turned toward the next sound.
The fat man was on the other side of the bed, crawling forward with both hands outstretched and shouting, "Who's there? Who's there?"
Darnell circled the bed and kicked him in the waist.
The fat man flew sideways as if he'd been hit by a car, slamming into the wall with a dull thump.
Darnell was monstrously strong. That kick had to have packed several hundred pounds of force. Even if the fat man's ribs weren't broken, a few of them were probably cracked.
The third man was Latino.
He was near the door, feeling his way along the wall. One hand waved in front of him, trying to clear the smoke.
Darnell took two long strides and swung his bat sideways, smashing it into the man's knee.
The Latino's leg buckled sharply. He fell sideways with a bloodcurdling scream.
Darnell struck his shoulder with another blow, pinning him to the floor.
The fourth man was Black.
He'd gotten lucky. He was standing by the window and had already found the handle, frantically trying to push it up.
The window opened a crack, and fresh air poured in. He took a deep breath, and then...
A hand reached through the smoke, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him backward.
He toppled back, cracking the back of his head against the windowsill. His vision went black.
Darnell dragged him away from the window like a rag doll and threw him to the floor, then planted a foot on his chest.
The man's eyes bulged and his mouth hung open. But the smoke made it impossible to breathe, and all he could manage was a hoarse, "Huh... huh..."
Lin An stood in the doorway, peering inside.
The smoke hadn't cleared. Everything was a hazy white, like a wilderness swallowed by thick fog.
The stinging smell seeped into the gas mask's filter. Most of it was neutralized, but he could still detect a faint, irritating odor... like a mixture of chili peppers and industrial glue. It made his eyes sting a little.
The smoke grenade the viewers had made was far more powerful than expected.
[Haha, I made that smoke grenade. It packs a decent punch.]
[Are you a chemistry teacher, bro?]
[No, just a hobbyist. I like playing at paintball fields in my spare time.]
"Cough, cough..."
Coughs came from every direction, impossible to place. The smoke churned through the air like a living white monster, devouring everything in the room.
Lin An stood in the doorway, his view blocked by the thick white smoke. He could only make out a few blurry shapes writhing on the floor.
The bullet screen started flooding with messages.
[The professor's at the foot of the bed, by the window!]
[Streamer, go three meters forward and to the right, then bend down and reach out. You'll find him.]
[Hurry! The old man seems to have passed out from the smoke. He's not moving.]
Following the bullet screen's directions, Lin An walked into the room and moved three meters forward and to the right.
In the smoke, the toe of his shoe bumped into something soft.
He bent down and reached out.
His fingers felt bare skin—a thin arm, cold as a withered branch.
The professor was curled up in the smoke, both hands clutching his head. He'd folded himself into a ball like a frightened shrimp.
Lin An grabbed his wrist and yanked. The professor fell off the bed and slid across the floor with a dull thud.
"Cough... cough, cough..."
The professor coughed twice, his voice hoarse. The smoke had clearly taken its toll on him too.
Lin An didn't stop.
He held the professor by the wrist with one hand and gripped his upper arm with the other. Then he dragged him out by force, like a sack of cargo.
The professor's body scraped along the floor, his skin rubbing against the rough carpet and leaving a faint trail.
"Ah... it hurts..."
The professor let out a muffled groan and instinctively struggled, but he was so weak that Lin An could barely feel it.
Lin An dragged him toward the door. Behind him came the sounds of bumps and the old man's pained groans. He paid them no mind.
Outside in the hallway, the smoke from the grenade was much thinner, and the air was fresher.
The professor, dragged out of the room, managed to roll onto his front and started coughing violently. His whole body curled up like a cooked shrimp.
Lin An stood beside him and glanced down.
The professor wore nothing but gray underwear. His thin body was covered in age spots and purple bruises. Finger marks stood out on his arms and shoulders, burned into his skin like brands.
His hair was white and disheveled, plastered to his scalp. His face was covered in tears and snot, glistening together under the dim hallway lights.
Lin An took off his gas mask and hung it around his neck, a smile on his lips.
[The streamer's so rough. He just dragged him right out.]
[It's not like he's dragging his own dad. What's he worried about?]
[The old man's over sixty. His bones are brittle. Don't break anything dragging him.]
[Better broken than getting filmed by the number zero.]
[Exactly.]
[Streamer, cover him with something. Don't let him freeze to death.]
Lin An glanced at the bullet screen, took off his windbreaker, and draped it over the professor.
The coat was long enough to cover most of his body.
The professor clutched its collar with both hands. Its precious warmth finally brought him back to his senses.
"Thank God..."
He sighed and leaned against the doorway, making the sign of the cross over his chest as he thanked God for saving him from the fate of having his "chrysanthemum blown wide open" and "farting without a sound."
[??? Thank God?]
[Where was God just now? Upstairs having coffee?]
[Lin An threw the smoke grenade, Darnell kicked the door in, and Lin An dragged you out. What's God got to do with it?]
[Old man, get a grip. Two living people saved you, not some guy in the sky.]
[If I were the streamer, I'd take my coat back right now and let him thank God with his bare ass in the cold.]
[Exactly. It's March in New York. Let him freeze to death.]
[Streamer, say something already.]
[Cultural difference, I guess. Americans thank God all the time.]
[Then next time, don't save him, streamer. Let God come save him himself.]
The viewers just hadn't seen enough. Lin An had long since gotten used to old men thanking God. He didn't just take it in stride—he even had his own way of dealing with it.
"That's right. I'm the messenger God sent to save you."
[????]
[Streamer, what did you say???]
[You're a messenger sent by God???]
[I'm dying. He was just mocking the old man for thanking God, and now he's playing along.]
Robert was stunned. He'd thanked God out of habit, but how could this guy be so brazen as to call himself God's messenger?
For a moment, Robert wondered if he'd heard wrong.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, Professor Robert."
"You know me?"
Robert grew wary. He glanced back toward the room, where the sounds of bodies colliding and screams still rang out, and concluded that the four men had probably been hired by the young man standing in front of him.
Lin An stood in the hallway, looking down at the professor on the floor. His smile hadn't changed in the slightest.
"Of course I know you, Professor Robert Jero, of Columbia University's Department of Financial Mathematics. You're a leading authority in quantitative finance and risk management."
His tone was perfectly calm, as if he were answering a question in class.
"I was actually looking for you. I just didn't expect someone else to get here first."
"What..."
"Bro, I took care of all four of them!"
Darnell's voice came from inside the room, muffled by his gas mask and brimming with excitement.
"I'm telling you, they took one hit from my bat and went down like dead pigs. They haven't moved at all..."
He stopped mid-sentence.
Darnell emerged from the smoke and saw what was happening in the hallway... The professor was sprawled on the floor, covered by Lin An's coat, while Lin An stood over him, wearing the familiar smile Darnell knew so 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 took off his gas mask and rubbed his eyes.
"By the way, the smoke in the room's almost gone. I opened the window."
As soon as he finished speaking, white smoke billowed through the doorway and rolled along the hallway ceiling like a weightless river.
The Bullet Screen started flooding with comments.
[Did Darnell open the window? This is a residential area. If smoke starts pouring out of a window in the middle of the night, won't the neighbors call the police?]
[Someone definitely will. That's a lot of smoke. It looks like a fire.]
[Manhattan neighbors aren't big on getting involved, but smoke like that could mean an actual fire. Someone's bound to call.]
[How long until the police get here?]
[Response times for the NYPD... depends on the neighborhood. Around Harlem, maybe ten to thirty minutes.]
[Then the streamer better hurry.]
Lin An glanced at the comments, unconcerned.
"Darnell, has the smoke cleared out of the room?"
"More or less. I can see everything now."
"Good."
Lin An turned and walked into the room. The scene inside came into clear view.
Four people lay sprawled across the room. All of them were still alive; none had stopped breathing, but...
[The white guy isn't going to make it. Internal injuries.]
[The fat guy's ribs are broken and probably punctured a lung. He's coughing up pink foam. He's done for.]
[The Black guy's in better shape. Just a broken neck. He could survive if he got surgery right away, but he clearly doesn't have much money. In America, going to the hospital would probably make his life worse than death anyway.]
Lin An stood still, reading the comments, then turned to look at Darnell.
"Why didn't you kill them?"
Darnell stood in the doorway, still gripping his baseball bat. He froze at the question.
"Kill... kill them?"
His voice went up an octave.
"Bro, did you say 'kill'? As in... make them die?"
"Yeah."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
Darnell opened his mouth, then scratched his head, his baseball bat swinging loosely in his hand.
"Uh... Well... You see..."
He stammered for a while, then finally mumbled, "I didn't dare."
[???]
[You didn't dare???]
[You weren't acting like that when you were beating them up, bro.]
[You were brave enough to take them out with one swing each, but now you're saying you didn't dare?]
[But honestly, normal people wouldn't dare kill someone. Darnell's only eighteen. It's normal that he couldn't do it.]
Lin An looked at Darnell, and Darnell looked back at Lin An.
They stared at each other for two seconds, then Lin An looked away.
He glanced down at the four people on the floor.
"Darnell."
"Yeah?"
"Go outside and keep the professor company for a while."
"What are you going to do?"
"Something good."
"Oh."
Darnell turned and left the room.
After Ni Ge had left, Lin An raised his right hand and turned his palm over. A dagger appeared in it.
Time to get to work.
Killing four people who couldn't fight back was simple, as long as you had the will to kill and happened to have a sharp weapon in hand.
Lin An had both, so he cleanly stabbed all four in the chest, pierced their hearts, and killed them. It was a calm, uneventful process, not worth describing.
Lin An felt neither happiness nor sadness about it.
He had simply done what needed to be done. Then he wiped the dagger on a bedsheet, turned his palm over, and made it disappear.
He turned and walked out of the room.
The professor was still sitting on the floor in the hallway. When he saw Lin An come out, his lips trembled.
"All right, Professor. Let's keep this brief," Lin An said.
"I was originally planning to kidnap you and ask you for a small favor. But now I've just saved you and spared you the worst possible fate. So you do me a favor, and we'll be even."
Robert swallowed. He was certain his earlier guess had been wrong. This young man was too ruthless and too arrogant. Whatever he wanted to do, he would probably just do it, not beat around the bush.
"My situation is a little complicated. I can't explain it all here. You and Darnell should leave first. I'll take care of things inside, so we don't get caught up in it if the police show up."
[Streamer, don't forget to take the money. The fifty thousand dollars are in that bag.]
Before you continue