Robbing an Old Man

The plan went unusually smoothly—so smoothly that Zhou Beichen began to feel uneasy.

That broken wooden door offered almost no resistance. Lorgar lightly pressed a finger against the latch, and the groan of old metal was barely audible. The room was small and damp, permeated by the scent of aged paper and the faintly moldy smell unique to ascetics. By the weak starlight filtering through the broken window, they could see a thin figure curled up on a shabby straw-covered bed in the corner, snoring evenly.

The target, Father Lavoisier, was deep asleep and completely defenseless.

Zhou Beichen gave Lorgar a look. Understanding at once, Lorgar silently stepped forward like a ghost, picked up the thick, patchwork quilt beside the bed that gave off a strange odor, and with precise, gentle movements pulled it over Lavoisier's head!

"Mm?!"

A muffled, brief cry of alarm came from beneath the quilt as Lavoisier instinctively began to struggle. But that little resistance was like an infant's before Lorgar. With the fingers of his other hand held together like a blade, he gave a measured strike through the quilt at what he considered a relatively safe spot near the shoulder blade on Lavoisier's neck.

The struggling stopped instantly.

"Done," Lorgar said quietly, his voice calm and flat in the darkness.

Zhou Beichen hurried over and used the prepared, highly flexible sand beast tendon rope to bind Lavoisier's feet tightly, tying a dead knot. The entire process was clean and efficient, taking less than thirty seconds.

"Hoist him up. Let's go." Zhou Beichen clapped his hands, quite pleased with the efficiency of his "kidnapping."

Like he was carrying a sack of grain, Lorgar easily slung the quilt-wrapped, bound-footed Lavoisier over his shoulder. His massive body turned nimbly in the low room as he headed outside first. Zhou Beichen followed close behind, casually pulling the broken wooden door mostly shut to create the illusion that its owner had gone out.

The night remained dark, and the edge of the mining district was silent and deserted. The two quickly retreated along the shadowed route they had taken in. However, just as they were about to turn into a main alley and look for a small road out of the city, several swaying points of fire appeared ahead—a night patrol of guards!

The man at the front was none other than the guard who had searched them at the city gate during the day and had been unsettled by his fleeting glimpse of Lorgar!

Zhou Beichen's heart leaped into his throat, and his hand instinctively reached for the laser pistol inside his robe. Lorgar's stride also paused slightly, while the "cargo" on his shoulder seemed to grow a little heavier.

The two sides met head-on in the narrow alley. Torchlight flickered, illuminating the guards' tired yet watchful faces, Zhou Beichen's deliberately composed expression, and the clearly human-shaped "long bundle" tightly wrapped in a quilt over Lorgar's shoulder.

The air seemed to freeze.

The lead guard's gaze swept over Zhou Beichen, then settled on Lorgar and the "thing" over his shoulder. His brow furrowed, and his lips moved as though he wanted to say something. Zhou Beichen had already prepared at least three explanations, from "a sick fellow believer in urgent need of treatment" to "a captured heretic requiring secret interrogation."

But unexpectedly, the instant the guard's eyes met the shadow beneath Lorgar's hood, they jerked away as if shocked by electricity. An extraordinarily complex emotion flashed across his face—lingering panic from daytime, fear of the unknown, and perhaps a bit of the wisdom that less trouble was better. He asked nothing. He merely stepped aside, waved at the men behind him, and barked hoarsely:

"What are you looking at?! Keep patrolling!"

Then, he actually walked past Zhou Beichen and Lorgar first, without even sparing the suspicious "package" another glance. Though the other guards looked puzzled, their leader had spoken, so they could only follow him away in silence.

Zhou Beichen stood there in a daze. Only after the patrol's footsteps had faded did he let out a breath, his back slick with cold sweat. He looked at Lorgar, who gave a slight shake of his head to show that he did not understand either.

"Strange..." Zhou Beichen muttered, but this was no time to investigate. "Move!"

The two did not dare delay. They quickened their pace, and with Lorgar's extraordinary sense of direction and instinct for danger, they wound through countless turns before finding a collapsed gap in the long-neglected city wall. They slipped silently out of Ralte and returned to the embrace of the boundless desert.

They said nothing on the way back, eager to return home. Even while carrying a person, Lorgar moved like the wind, and Zhou Beichen had to give everything he had just to barely keep up. Only when they were far enough from Ralte and the sky had begun to brighten did Zhou Beichen finally call for a stop, gasping for breath.

"Rest... let's rest a bit..." He dropped onto a sand dune and looked at the "package" Lorgar had gently placed on the ground, suddenly feeling that something was off.

"It's been so long. Why hasn't he woken up?" Zhou Beichen leaned closer and listened through the quilt. The breathing seemed very weak. "Lorgar, you useless bastard, did you knock him dead?"

Lorgar blinked innocently, crouched down, and checked Lavoisier's carotid pulse with two fingers. He then felt the rise and fall of his chest through the quilt. "Father, I didn't do that. Look, he's still breathing." After a pause, he added, "It's just... his breathing is a little weak. Maybe the journey jostled him too much, or perhaps he's old and frail."

Zhou Beichen frowned and lifted one corner of the quilt, revealing Lavoisier's pale, worn, wrinkled face. He was indeed still breathing, but he truly looked like he had more breath going out than coming in.

"Damn it, don't let him actually die. Then this whole trip will have been for nothing, and we'll have made an enemy besides." Zhou Beichen was a little frustrated. "Quick, get back! Let Old Buck take a look at him!"

For the rest of the journey, Zhou Beichen was on edge, repeatedly having Lorgar check Lavoisier's condition. They hurried onward without pause, and only when the crooked outline of the windmill in the southern highlands finally appeared on the horizon did Zhou Beichen feel half the weight lift from his heart.

The people of the settlement looked surprised and curious when they saw them return, especially with Lorgar carrying someone whose feet were tied and whose body was wrapped in a quilt. But at Zhou Beichen's signal, no one asked any questions.

"Quick! Old Buck! See what's wrong with him!" Zhou Beichen directly ordered Lavoisier carried into the small stone house used specifically for treating injuries and illness.

Old Buck, the old man who had once been the only one who knew a little about mechanical maintenance, was now considered the settlement's most experienced "physician"—though his primary treatments were bloodletting and herbal poultices. He carefully examined Lavoisier, lifted his eyelids, and pinched the area beneath his nose.

"He's fine, Father Beichen." Old Buck let out a breath. "He's just old, and the fright and shock, along with all that jostling on the road, disrupted his circulation and made him faint. Give him some warm water and let him rest. He should wake up soon."

With the "combined efforts" of everyone in the settlement—mainly several women assigned to the task—they gave him some warm water and wiped his face with a wet cloth. Father Lavoisier, laid on a crude bed, finally let out a long, pained groan. His eyelids trembled, then slowly opened.

His eyes were blank at first, needing time to focus. Then he saw several unfamiliar faces gathered around the bed. Finally, his gaze settled on Zhou Beichen, who stood at the front with a smile that mixed concern and calculation, and the expressionless giant behind him, towering like an iron tower.

Lavoisier's cloudy eyes widened instantly. Terror washed away the confusion of waking like a tide. He abruptly tried to sit up, only to discover that his feet were bound and his body was weak, sore, and powerless from his ordeal and prolonged lying down.

"You... you people! What do you want?!" His voice was hoarse and trembling, filled with despair.

The "kind" smile on Zhou Beichen's face grew broader. He stepped forward, bent down, and said in an almost coaxing tone, "Father Lavoisier, don't get worked up. We invited you here with no ill intentions."

"Invited?!" Lavoisier trembled with fury. In all his years, this was the first time he had been "invited" by having a quilt thrown over his head, being knocked unconscious, and having his feet tied up! "What do you want? I'm telling you, I have nothing! Just this old life!"

Zhou Beichen waved a hand, trying to calm him down. "We're not here to rob you. Of course, we're here for..."

He had meant to say, "your talent and ability," but before he could finish, the extremely complicated and terrified expression that suddenly appeared on Lavoisier's face cut him off.

Lavoisier's gaze darted between Zhou Beichen's "leering" face and Lorgar's inhumanly strong body, as though he had instantly understood something terribly frightening.

Wanderers struggling to survive in the wilderness often had strange quirks. He had heard of them, and had even seen some... but he had never imagined that the man before him could be twisted to such an extent! He would not even spare a dried-up old man like him!

A sense of humiliation worse than death surged through him. Looking at the two men before him, he squeezed out a tear of hatred, despair, and helplessness from the corner of his eye. As though resigning himself to his fate, he clutched his bony chest tightly and gathered all his strength, just as a curse was about to burst from his lips—

Seeing Lavoisier looking like a virtuous maiden about to have his chastity violated, Zhou Beichen was stunned for a moment. Then he suddenly realized what filthy nonsense the old man had been thinking! The smile on his face froze, and he nearly choked on his breath.

"Stop! Cut it out! What the hell are you thinking?!" Zhou Beichen quickly shouted, his voice rising several notches. The last trace of his fake "kindness" vanished from his face, replaced by exasperated irritation. "I'm not interested in your old bones! Not even a little!"

Pointing at Lavoisier, he shouted in anger and disbelief, "We 'invited' you here to be a teacher! A management teacher! A technical advisor! Get it? We need educated people here—people who can read, keep accounts, and understand management! We heard you had some skills, so we went through all this trouble to bring you here! Who the fuck wants to rob you of your virtue?!"

That barrage of machine-gun-like explanations left Lavoisier dumbfounded. The most vicious curse, poised to erupt, caught in his throat. The hand clutching his chest froze in midair, the tear at the corner of his eye neither falling nor staying, and the expression on his face shifted from grief-stricken outrage to utter bewilderment and... a trace of absurdity.

Rob... talent?

Not robbery for wealth, and not robbery for... virtue? It was robbery for... talent?

He stared blankly at the furious Zhou Beichen, then looked at the giant beside him—Lorgar seemed to have turned his head slightly, his shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly—before glancing around the crude yet clean stone house and listening to the lively sounds of work drifting in through the window...

Had he... really gotten it wrong?

An overwhelming sense of weakness, like surviving a disaster, mixed with indescribable embarrassment and humiliation, swept over Lavoisier in an instant. He opened his mouth, but in the end, nothing came out. Only a few meaningless "huh, huh" sounds emerged from his throat as his old face flushed bright red.

Seeing him like this, Zhou Beichen snorted unhappily and instructed one of the women beside him, "Untie him and get him something to eat. Once he's recovered, I'll have a proper talk with him about his employment terms and... job responsibilities!"

After saying that, he shot Lavoisier, still in a daze, a glare and turned to leave the stone house. Lorgar silently followed behind him.

Outside, the sunlight over Colchis was just right, and the windmill creaked as it turned. Zhou Beichen rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling that the first step of this talent recruitment effort had been full of unexpected... twists and turns.