The neon lights of Yong'an Street flickered like trapped fireflies as Lin Xiaoqi maneuvered his wheelchair down the rain-slick pavement. His rubber-tipped wheels cut through puddles, sending ripples that distorted the reflections of the glowing signs overhead. Despite the chilly autumn air, the young man wore only a threadbare t-shirt, his emaciated frame seeming almost spectral in the dim light.
"Next!" he called out, his voice echoing strangely from within the hollow chest cavity of his orthopedic chair. The crowd parted instinctively, as if drawn by some unseen force. His eyes, milky and un, suddenly snapped to life when he spotted his target—a burly man in a leather jacket attempting to slip a hand into a woman's purse.
Before the thief could react, Lin's fingers twitched. A faint golden glow emanated from his wrist, unnoticed by the crowd but visible to the man in the leather jacket. The man's arm began to tremor uncontrollably, his fingers curling into grotesque shapes as if being writhed by invisible serpents. The woman's purse clattered to the ground, her scream cut short by a look of sheer terror directed at the pale-faced illusionist.
"Police! He's using illegal magic!" someone shouted.
Three officers materialized from the shadows, their hands already gripping pepper spray canisters. Lin smiled weakly, his gaze drifting to the nearest lamppost. As the officers closed in, his wheelchair suddenly pivoted 180 degrees with impossible speed, crashing into a fruit stand. Apples and oranges rolled across the pavement, creating a chaotic barrier between him and the lawmen.
"Elemental Lock!" barked one officer, raising his hand. A shimmering force field erupted, sealing off the entire alleyway. Lin's chest tightened as he felt the familiar numbness spreading through his limbs—a telltale sign his limited aura was being drained by the officer's anti-magic device.
But then something extraordinary happened. The fruit from the overturned cart began to levitate, swirling around Lin in a hypnotic dance. The officers' force fields flickered erratically as if being corroded by some unseen acid. One by one, their weapons malfunctioned—pepper spray cansEmptying into the air, tasers discharging harmless sparks.
The crowd, initially terrified, now watched in awe as the young illusionist sat motionless amidst the floating produce. His lips parted, and a soft hum escaped his throat. The fruit formations coalesced into a towering pyramid, its apex pointing directly at the officers' commander.
"Step back," Lin whispered, his voice somehow both childlike and ancient. "Or this goes up in flames."
The commander hesitated, his face paling. Behind him, a news camera crew had arrived, their lights flashing in the darkness. Suddenly, the pyramid collapsed into a swarm of fireflies, settling on the officers' uniforms and melting their protective gear into slag.
As the confused crowd erupted into chaos, Lin wheeled himself calmly out of the alley, his wheelchair leaving faint traces of shimmering dust in its wake. He stopped at a dimly lit noodle shop, where an elderly proprietor greeted him with a knowing nod.
"Your tea, master. Extra ginger." the old man said, sliding a steaming bowl across the counter.
Lin drank deeply, the warmth seeping into his bones. Outside, the sounds of the city faded as he closed his eyes, the golden light in his palm pulsating rhythmically—a beacon in the vast, invisible network of illusionists that lurked beneath Yong'an Street's bustling facade.