The Speedster Gang

They were certainly chatting animatedly, but that was Buzzcut's privilege. Thin Scholar couldn't get a word in.

That was like stabbing Thin Scholar in the already battered heart all over again.

His face darkened instantly. He glanced at the metal rod Wang Wen was holding and said no more.

The others had also noticed Wang Wen's sudden arrival.

"Great, we've got a full group. Let's start the challenge!" Buzzcut stood up and turned to the girl beside him. "Little miss, remember to stay behind me later. Stick close, and don't get lost, got it?"

The girl blinked, then obediently nodded.

Thin Scholar had been watching from the side. Seeing this, he curled his lip disdainfully and gave a quiet, mocking scoff, careful not to let Buzzcut hear.

[Floor Ten, Begin]

As the mechanical voice faded, the miniature flying device in midair grew faint and finally disappeared.

The garage door directly ahead slowly began to rise.

Before it had even opened all the way, the roar of engines and a chorus of bizarre shouts sounded from outside.

"A speedster gang?" Buzzcut's expression changed. He hurriedly looked around, but aside from a few broken tires, there was nothing else in the garage.

Before he could decide whether to grab a tire for protection, a group of leather-clad men carrying batons and machetes rode their motorcycles into the garage and quickly surrounded them.

The men wore helmets, so their expressions were hidden. But judging by the revving engines and shrill cries, they certainly weren't model students.

Buzzcut eventually grabbed a tire amid the chaos and watched the leather-clad men warily.

The other side had surrounded them without attacking. Unsure of their intentions, Buzzcut clung to a shred of hope that the situation might end peacefully.

Wang Wen, quietly observing nearby, saw what he was thinking and shook his head to himself.

Another idiot who thought the lower floors of the tower would be easier.

Whether it was the tenth floor or the hundredth, a combat floor at a whole-number interval meant a fight was unavoidable. Waiting for the other side to strike instead of taking the initiative—was he planning to get buried right there?

Wang Wen tightened his grip on the hammer handle.

Looks like he couldn't count on his new teammates. He'd have to take care of things himself.

What a pain!

He'd been planning to coast through a floor and save his strength, since these people had been acting like they'd kneel and grovel in front of the "Femme Fatale."

"Beep beep!"

A motorcycle straight ahead suddenly blared its horn.

The leather-clad men all around them sprang into action. They weaved through the Tower Climbers trapped in their circle, and the first one to strike knocked the unlucky fat man to the ground. A leather-clad rider following close behind swung his machete as he sped past, slicing across the fat man's neck.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

The fat man's plump neck was almost severed.

He clamped his chubby hands over the gaping wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use.

His face turned deathly pale in an instant. He fell over and kicked his legs.

Seeing that the attackers were out for blood, Buzzcut stopped waiting. He let out a shout and hurled the tire at a leather-clad man ahead.

The tire struck the man squarely in the head, knocking him off his motorcycle. He rolled across the ground and toppled the rider behind him, throwing the front of the group into brief disarray.

"Run!" Buzzcut shouted to the girl, then sprinted for the garage door. As he passed through the chaos, he grabbed a machete.

The girl obediently followed. She was even a little faster than Buzzcut, but when she noticed, she quickly slowed down and did as he'd asked, staying "behind him."

As long as he had the strength to spare, a girl as stunning as her deserved to be looked after. As for everyone else, Buzzcut didn't have the time or the inclination to care.

Fortunately, the "everyone else" was handling things well enough on their own.

The instant the fat man was cut down, Thin Scholar had jumped and run to hide beside the girl.

The moment Buzzcut cleared a path, Thin Scholar took off without waiting to be told.

Wang Wen was less fortunate. He was the second target after the fat man. Two motorcycles crossed paths as their riders attacked from either side: one swung a baton at his head, while the other slashed at his legs, intent on crippling half his body.

Whether they left him his upper or lower half was up to him.

Unfortunately for them, Wang Wen was an adult. He wanted both.

His left hand flicked out in a strange arc. A short arrow, gleaming coldly but nearly impossible to spot, slipped out and flew straight into the gap beneath the machete-wielding rider's helmet.

The rider listed to one side. He and his motorcycle crashed to the ground, spun across the pavement, and slid all the way to a distant wall. Then they went still.

The baton-wielding rider coming from the other side paused in surprise at the sight. He tried to bring his weapon down with all his strength, but Wang Wen raised his rod and struck him down first.

Wang Wen flexed his numb wrist, ready to finish things with a few more blows and settle the score. To his surprise, Buzzcut had already opened up a path.

Wang Wen was quietly delighted. He quickly stopped, slipped out through the least conspicuous corner along the wall, and ran after the "group."

Outside the garage was a wide, flat road.

Villa-style buildings stood on either side, and tall, spiked fences ruled out any chance of climbing over to hide.

All that remained was the road beneath their feet, stretching farther than the eye could see.

Buzzcut ran for a while without finding a turn or exit. Stunned, he hurried to the roadside and grabbed the fence where its base had no spikes, shaking it hard in an attempt to break it open.

Wang Wen glanced back the way they'd come. He could just make out the speedster gang regrouping in the garage and lining up to charge after them.

After a moment's thought, he walked over to Buzzcut with the hammer handle and helped him.

Buzzcut saw Wang Wen and nodded, signaling that they should count together and push at the same time.

The girl rolled up her sleeves and wanted to help too, but Buzzcut stopped her, panting. "It's heavy work. Hah... we men... will do it."

Thin Scholar saw that the girl's attention was entirely on the two men, with none left for him. He couldn't help sneering contemptuously. "Two dumbasses. All muscle, no brains."

He kept his voice very low.

Only Wang Wen, up ahead, twitched an ear slightly. The girl was the only other person who turned to look at him in confusion.

Pleased that he'd caught her attention, Thin Scholar was eager to show off his special skill.

He quickly took off his shoes. Using the big toes on both feet together with his fingers, he actually climbed up through the densely packed gaps between the fence's spikes!

The girl's mouth fell open in shock.

Seeing her amazement made Thin Scholar even more pleased. He turned to her and said, "Don't worry. Once I'm up, I'll pull you up."

Before he could finish speaking—

Whether it was from Buzzcut shaking the fence too hard or Thin Scholar's attempt to climb over, a crackling current suddenly raced along the spikes.

Wang Wen immediately pulled back his rod and retreated to a safe distance.

Buzzcut reacted just as quickly. He let go and hopped backward, dodging the current in time.

Thin Scholar, on the other hand, was in a much worse state.

He clung to the fence, eyes rolled back, twitching as his joints visibly twisted out of shape.

Wang Wen took off his jacket, rolled his neck and wrists, and warmed up.

Then he wrapped the jacket around the handle where he gripped it, raised it with a shout, and sent Thin Scholar, who was convulsing on the fence, flying several meters.

After landing, Thin Scholar continued to twitch and spit blood.

His stiff fingers pointed at Wang Wen, trembling, but for a long while he couldn't say a word.

Wang Wen slung the hammer handle over his shoulder and said breezily, "No need to thank me."

Thin Scholar sucked in breath after breath, looking as if he were at death's door.