"Absolutely, absolutely—another round!"
When Warren came to, he found himself sitting in what felt like the crater of a volcano.
His body felt drained of all moisture, his mouth parched and dry—just how much had he drunk?
He tried to move, but thick hemp ropes the diameter of a thumb bound him tight as a crab from Yangcheng Lake. He couldn't budge an inch.
"Don't bother struggling, brother. I spent half an hour tying those knots—cost me plenty of effort."
I stood outside the sauna room. The door had been locked from the outside, thoroughly sealed.
"Now it's my turn to explain the situation to you, brother."
"My bottle was cut with water. Yours was the real deal. After you passed out, I poured another two pounds down your throat. Alcohol accelerates blood flow, and then a sauna at high heat for over an hour—you're a champ for still being conscious."
"At our advertising agency, we get all kinds of station managers and CEOs coming to drink tea with our boss. I picked up a thing or two from pouring and brewing by their side."
"There's a tea custom: when someone pours tea for you, to show respect, you tap the table lightly with your fingers a few times. It's a rule passed down from the Qianlong Emperor."
"When I spilled the tea while pouring, you instinctively tapped the table. Because you couldn't see the tea—you could only estimate when my cup was full by the sound and motion of my pouring."
"That also explains why I couldn't figure out what your Abandoned Object was."
"Adults are about 70% water by body weight, so you never needed to activate anything—because you essentially are the Abandoned Object itself."
"Your Abandoned Object is the inability to see all the water in the world."
Warren sighed, seeming genuinely dejected about the failure of our alliance and my betrayal:
"Ai, I told you so much. Didn't any of it sink in at all? Did you really have to do it this way?"
"It sank in, brother. But I think this whole thing started because of me and should end with me. I agree there's something suspicious going on, but since it's my contacts that made up the seven people—not yours—an alliance between us doesn't solve the core problem. The mastermind is after me."
I was about to turn and leave when Warren said something that nearly froze my blood:
"That delivery guy isn't dead. Everything we just talked about—I sent it all to him while I was getting the booze. By now, judging by the time, he's probably already on a high-speed train to Hangzhou."
"Hey, don't blame me. The world is treacherous. You always keep a backup plan. See? My insurance policy is just a little better thought out than yours."
The temperature in the sauna was still rising. The stones in the room began to pop and crack. Through the glass, Warren could be seen slowly withering like a dried fish. He looked at me with a flicker of amusement, and with his last breath, he said:
"You'd better hurry. Maybe you can still see your girlfriend one last time."
---
Twelve
Dawang Road, Xingfuli Residences. The sky had barely begun to lighten when the elderly residents were already down in the courtyard doing their morning exercises.
In the sweltering hallway, a delivery driver wearing a helmet, carrying a plate of tomato-egg-over-rice, was quietly climbing the stairs.
His expression was grave but tinged with a barely perceptible thrill. His steps were steady, sweat pouring off him, but without a single complaint—footsteps nearly soundless, just plodding upward.
Oddly, Xingfuli Residences had elevators. Why would a time-pressed delivery man choose the stairs?
When he reached the eighth floor, the first thing he saw was a middle-aged man in pajamas, cigarette dangling, back turned, doing stretches.
Who does stretching exercises in a nearly 30-degree stairwell?
The delivery driver frowned and stayed silent, planning to slip past.
At that same instant, a voice came from behind:
"Who orders tomato-egg-over-rice first thing in the morning? Kid, if you're going to fake it, at least make it convincing."
Lucas whipped around and hurled the rice plate at the middle-aged man, but he was too slow—the man doing stretches was gone. The plate smashed against the wall, its red sauce splattering like blood.
Where did he go?
Shit!
Lucas spun around, but before he could activate his Abandoned power, a massive hand had already pinned him.
Warren, Golden Pupils blazing almost instantly, sidestepped and caught his neck in a single fluid motion.
Two thuds from the fire extinguisher, and Lucas saw stars. If his body hadn't been enhanced, it might have been over right there.
The overwhelming grip made it impossible for Lucas to move. After a few struggles, he understood that he and this man were not in the same weight class.
He started calculating: what was this man's Abandoned Object? It could activate instantly, and the strength enhancement was off the charts—that meant he was probably fully enveloped by his Abandoned Object at all times. Was it sunlight? Wind? Or air?
"Save your energy. I've trained in Bajiquan for years. Your little tricks won't work on me."
"I knew Axel Zhou was a competitor, so I waited here for other competitors to come knocking. I'll give you credit—your counter-surveillance instincts aren't bad. You knew the elevator had cameras and didn't want to show your face. But couldn't you think a little harder? Who does stretches in a stairwell?"
Lucas didn't respond. Black mist began seeping from his pupils, and his hand reached for Warren's arm, the dark haze crawling up like a swift, agile insect along the skin.
He smiled, because he knew his power too well. Without any martial arts techniques, the moment his dark mist touched someone, the fight was already won.
No one could resist that power. As long as the target was an intelligent being—human, monkey, ape, lion, or rabbit—they were all within his range.
But almost in the same instant, his smile froze.
Because what he was touching didn't feel like an arm at all—it felt like something viscous and slippery, as if coated in oil.
The sensation was like... touching a giant swamp eel!
He looked closer. At some point, the middle-aged man was drenched in sweat, a layer of faintly golden, glistening perspiration covering his entire body. The black mist was repelled, unable to come within a fraction of an inch.
"Ever heard the phrase 'greasy middle-aged man'? Heh. Your power is contact-based, isn't it? Useless. Against me, not even your hands will connect—swords or guns wouldn't work either." Warren grinned.
"Your Abandoned Object—is it water? Guess I'm just unlucky." Lucas said hoarsely. He knew he was probably done for. While regretting his rash decision to engage, he also wondered why his opponent hadn't finished him off.
With Lucas's ability, if he had first saturated all of Beijing... and then fought, his odds would have been much higher.
But he thought that would be too conspicuous and expose his power too easily. So he'd opted for a low-profile approach. Who would have thought he'd run straight into his natural counter?
"Don't be mad, little brother. I'm not here for your sixty million. I've got something else in mind."
Warren unexpectedly released his grip and stepped back two paces, giving Lucas a safe distance.
"I'm here to propose an alliance."
"An alliance? Why? This is a winner-takes-all game. Even if hyenas help lions hunt, the lions still eat the hyenas in the end." Lucas was skeptical.
Warren waved his hand.
"Too small."
"What's too small?"
"Your vision. Think about why this hunting game exists, and why we have these supernatural abilities."
"I... hadn't thought about it. But I think it's a gift from above. We should seize this chance to change our fate."
"There's no heaven, no Jesus, and no Buddha. Whoever granted these powers—the mastermind behind this—is a civilization beyond our current understanding. They didn't give us these abilities for fun. They're conducting some kind of personnel selection."
Lucas remained noncommittal, glancing at Warren to indicate he should continue.
"The baseline attributes of humans are still too poor. Without professional martial arts training or military service, most people can't fulfill their desires at all. So the puppeteer gave each person 60 million as starting capital, plus abilities to enhance themselves—to test some quality of mind or capability. Those who pass will go on to carry out missions for them. At least, that's my interpretation."