Old White stood frozen as he watched, in horrifying clarity, bullet after bullet pierce into Xiao Feng's body. Each shot bloomed a fresh flower of blood upon him, the gruesome sounds of flesh being torn echoed too vividly in the old man's ears.
What truly astonished him, however, was not the gunfire—but that Xiao Feng remained upright amidst the storm of bullets. Even grievously wounded, he continued to disable Alliance soldiers with chilling precision, one after another.
Bang...
Xiao Feng fired the last shot. Around him lay a carpet of fallen soldiers, the remaining uninjured now cowering behind vehicles, trembling with fear.
Despite having endured what must have been over a hundred rounds—some tearing through the same patch of flesh, stripping him to the bone—Xiao Feng still stood, composed, with a faint smile on his bloodied face. The wounded continued to wail, but no one dared confront him further.
Xiao Feng turned, his mangled body dragging slightly, and approached Old White. Seeing the man's stunned expression, he gave a soft chuckle.
"Uncle, sorry to have scared you. Don't worry, I'm fine. If you don't believe me, watch..."
He pointed to his wounds—already knitting themselves closed at an unnatural speed.
Old White possessed regenerative powers himself, yet his healing was a crawl compared to this. Xiao Feng's recovery was nothing short of miraculous.
With a metallic clink, clink, bullets began dropping from Xiao Feng's body, clattering to the ground—dozens of them.
"When did you gain this ability?" Old White asked, astonished.
Xiao Feng only smiled, taking the pistol from the old man's hands.
"Now isn't the time for that conversation. I'll explain it all later."
He turned again, casting his gaze toward the fallen soldiers and those still hiding. Then he bellowed,
"Who else wishes to challenge me now?"
Silence. Only the groans of the wounded answered him.
"Since none of you dare raise arms, listen well..."
He shrugged off his bullet-riddled jacket, shaking his head slowly.
"I never wanted to kill any of you. Your lives are precious—even more so in a world like this, where survival is a battle of its own. As for Locke—his fate was inevitable. If not by my hand, someone else would've ended him. Keeping a man like him alive would only deepen the curse upon this already cursed world. I killed him, and I believe the world is better for it."
"Enough of that. Let's talk about what comes next. First, your injuries. I possess the ability to heal not only myself, but others as well. I can ease your pain—but only if you agree to one condition."
A soldier, clutching a bloodied arm, stood up shakily. "What condition?"
Xiao Feng studied him for a moment, a strange intuition rising. This one, he thought, might be the true leader among them.
"What's your name?"
"Saville."
"Can you speak for the rest?"
"I can."
"Good. When I return, I'll see to it that Locke is formally dismissed. In the meantime, I'll recommend you be promoted to Second-Class Sergeant. You'll oversee Protection Zone 64 from now on. But my condition is this—do not report Locke's death just yet. Wait until the official orders come through. Then you can explain it however you wish. Will that work?"
Saville smiled faintly, wincing as he clutched his wound. "It's a deal. But one thing—how can you be so sure you'll pull it off?"
Xiao Feng laughed. "That's my concern. I've never failed at anything I've promised. And this? It's only a sergeant's chair. Just don't make trouble for me, and it'll be handled easily."
"Then we have an agreement."
"Very well. I'll begin healing you now."
Xiao Feng placed his hand on Saville's wound, and as he channeled his power into the torn flesh, an idea began to form in his mind—powerful and compelling.
Within minutes, all twenty of the wounded soldiers were healed. Without a word, they lifted Locke's lifeless body and departed, their silence heavy and uncertain.
Xiao Feng watched them go before slowly turning back toward the tavern. He was exhausted. So much blood had drained from him, and though his powers included healing and electricity, when it came to blood itself, he was still just a man.
With a bitter smile, he turned to the tavern mistress.
"Could I trouble you for a basin of water and a towel? I need to clean up a bit."
By now, the only remaining patrons were Old White, Turner, and Xiao Feng himself. The others had fled at the first echo of gunfire, leaping out of windows to avoid the crossfire.
The tavern mistress surveyed her ruined bar, sighed deeply, and fetched a basin of warm water and a clean towel.
Xiao Feng wiped away the blood, then retrieved a fresh shirt from his vehicle and slipped it on. He produced a thick stack of Alliance credits and handed them to the woman.
"This should cover the damages. If you think it's too much, give us a few bottles to take on the road."
Her eyes widened with delight. She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
"You little devil—you're absolutely adorable."
Xiao Feng flushed and wiped the lipstick from his face.
"Seriously... why do you all love kissing without warning?"
Old White and Turner each took two bottles of whiskey and climbed into Xiao Feng's black SUV. As the three set off toward Lisa's house, Xiao Feng drove slowly. After a long silence, he spoke to Turner.
"Boss Turner, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you..."