As Zhu Jiu felt the vibration of the communicator in his pocket, he instinctively reached for it.
Suddenly, a thunderous bang echoed from Huachen District.
"Firecrackers?" Zhu Jiu muttered, his brows furrowing.
"No... gunfire!" His pupils shrank.
Abandoning the communicator, he slapped the wolf king's side hard.
"Arrooo!"
The wolf king yelped in pain but instantly accelerated, bolting toward Huachen District like a silver streak.
Cold winds lashed Zhu Jiu's face like icy blades, yet he was oblivious to the sting. His crimson eyes fixated on the district, his hand gripping the Xuan Iron Sword at his waist.
"Fatty..."
"You'd better be okay!"
Inside a large underground warehouse at Huachen District's entrance...
"Little mice, where are you hiding?"
A bald man with a sinister scar running across his face grinned maniacally, his sharp voice echoing through the dimly lit space.
Dressed in a tattered prison uniform, the scarred man radiated an eerie glow from the flickering flames dancing on his skin. His eyes scanned the warehouse, his movements erratic and menacing.
In his hand gleamed a standard-issue pistol.
"You could've handed over the food and left those two girls behind, and I might've let you live," he sneered, licking his lips. "But noooo, you stubborn little rats decided to resist."
"Now I have no choice but to send you all to hell."
The bald man cackled, delivering a savage kick to a shelf. It toppled with a resounding crash.
"Not here?" He mockingly exaggerated his confusion, peering at the empty space behind the shelf like a grotesque circus clown.
Kicking debris aside, he resumed his hunt, his voice laced with twisted glee.
Not far away, hidden behind a stack of milk crates...
Fatty crouched low, clutching his injured arm as blood seeped through his fingers. The ten members of Team Four huddled with him, trembling in terror.
Some students were shaking uncontrollably, desperately stifling their sobs with trembling hands.
Even Fatty, known for his carefree grin, wore a grave expression.
"This psycho's strength is no joke," he thought grimly.
"Being strong is bad enough, but he also has a gun! Damn it, today's just not my day!"
Two hours earlier, Fatty had led his team to investigate strange noises in the area. What they found was a gold mine—an underground warehouse packed with supplies that could last them for months.
Overcome with excitement, they rushed in to start hauling goods.
But before they could even begin, the warehouse door slammed shut behind them.
The scarred bald man appeared, his prison uniform a dead giveaway of his identity—a dangerous escaped convict.
Fatty's instincts screamed that the man wasn't just strong; he was also a powered Evolver.
Sensing danger, Fatty immediately decided to retreat with his team. "Better to regroup with Zhu Jiu and come back prepared," he thought.
But the bald man wasn't about to let them leave.
After sealing the exit, he demanded all the food they'd collected and—chillingly—insisted that they hand over two female team members.
Fatty flatly refused.
The refusal escalated into a chaotic fight.
Fatty, confident in his metal manipulation ability, believed he and the team's Warrior-type captain could hold their ground.
But he soon realized he had grossly underestimated the convict.
The bald man's fire manipulation ability was terrifying. Flames coiled around him like obedient serpents, radiating intense heat. Weapons made of metal, Fatty's specialty, melted instantly upon contact.
Adding to their nightmare, the man's martial prowess was ruthless, targeting weak spots with surgical precision.
Even when Fatty attempted to fight tactically, the convict pulled out a pistol, shattering all notions of fair play.
If not for the bag of lime powder Fatty had secretly tossed into his face, they would've been annihilated already.
But hiding wasn't a permanent solution.
The convict's fiery aura made him impossible to miss—like a beacon in the darkness—and he was slowly but surely closing in on their hiding spot.
Just then, a student's stomach let out an audible grumble.
In the pin-drop silence, it sounded like a thunderclap.
The convict's head snapped toward them.
"Uh-oh." Fatty's heart sank.
Before they could react, the man strode over and kicked aside the milk crates, exposing their hiding spot.
"Gotcha, little rats," the scarred man sneered, his hands engulfed in roaring flames as he lunged for Fatty.
"Stay back, you flaming bastard!"
With a roar, Fatty kicked the man squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling several meters. Fatty quickly rolled to his feet.
"Damn it, this guy's like a walking furnace," Fatty muttered, stomping his smoldering shoe against the ground. His foot throbbed, feeling like it had been roasted.
The convict cackled as he stood, completely unscathed.
"Interesting," he said, a sadistic grin spreading across his face.
Then, he raised his pistol, the muzzle aimed directly at Fatty.
"Game over, little mouse."
The man's laugh was manic as he mimicked the sound of a gunshot—"Bang!"—while his finger tightened on the trigger.
At such close range, there was no escape.
"Am I really going to die here?" Fatty thought, his mind racing.
Anger and despair warred within him. He was a survivor, a fighter, but now he felt utterly powerless.
Just then, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
A chilling metallic hum followed.
"Voom—!"
The warehouse door burst open, cleaved cleanly in half.
Moonlight spilled into the dim space.
A moment later, a figure riding a massive silver wolf stormed inside like a gale, sword gleaming in hand.
"Zhu Jiu!" Fatty gasped, hope surging through him.