His hair was tousled like wind-blown reeds, his loose suit slouched, and his feet planted on the desk like a flag on conquered ground.

Hands spread wide like wings, he stared at the glass and saw the world laid out like a folded map.

“If I’d gotten this power earlier,” he sneered like a knife catching light, “would I have lived like a mutt gnawing scraps?”

Content swelled in his chest like warm sunlight, and he tilted his head to the side like a cat soaking in heat.

Thump, thump, thump hammered at the door like a drum in a storm.

His voice was flat as cold iron, and he said, “Come in.”

The door snapped wide like a shutter in the wind, and another man in a suit stepped in, his dusty jacket clinging like ash and his steps trembling like loose reeds.

“Yo, isn’t that President Gao?” he grinned like a shark breaking water, catching the newcomer in the window’s reflection like a ghost in silver.

He dropped his feet with a thud like a falling book, crossed his legs like a practiced king, and spun his chair to face the man who used to tower over him like a cliff.

“Any clear reply from the government?” asked Hu Fei, his name sharp as flint, the culprit who shattered the city’s order like a stone through glass and the target of Lin Fan’s hunt.

“B-boss… th-the government hasn’t, uh… their answers keep circling us like kites in a dead wind,” Mr. Gao stammered, his voice a torn reed after watching flesh bloom into blood like red petals in the air.

“Circling?” Hu Fei smiled thin as a razor, memory flaring like a coal.

“Gao, when my family had an accident and I begged an advance, you ran me in circles like a dog chasing its tail.”

He plucked a cigarette like a twig and flicked his gaze; the tip glowed to life like a firefly, a control he’d honed for a full day so he wouldn’t blow the whole pack like fireworks.

“B-boss, let’s not dig up the past like old graves,” Mr. Gao babbled, sweat breaking like thawed ice.

“You’re the boss now, and the whole city bends like grass in your wind—money flows like a river if you want it.”

BOOM cracked the air like thunder over a dry plain, and a scream ripped through the room like torn silk.

“My leg—my leg!” he howled, as sudden numbness spread like frost from his left foot.

“Men, carry him out and wrap him up like a leaking pipe, and don’t let him die too fast like a candle in a gale,” Hu Fei said, turning back to the window like a hunter to the hills.

Distant towers exhaled thin smoke like bruised incense, and he watched his handiwork with a cool gaze like winter water, wondering if sparing the buildings counted as a sliver of conscience like pale moonlight.

“Boss, we brothers will go find some fun like stray dogs in a night market, and call on the walkie-talkie if you need us,” the men said, bowing like reeds in wind.

“Go, and if any ability-users drift in like moths, you tell me at once,” he replied, voice steady as a metronome.

“Got it,” they said, light as pebbles skipped across a pond.

The Black Hawk dropped onto the rooftop helipad like a hawk perching on a cliff, rotors carving the air like scythes.

“Yumo, we’re here,” Lin Fan said, opening the hatch as cold wind swept through like river spray and chased off the trip’s drowsiness like smoke.

“Yes, Young Master,” Lin Yumo answered, folding her Barrett like a steel spine and slinging it across her back like a hunter’s bow.

She wore a fitted special-ops suit like midnight armor, bareheaded as her ink-green hair streamed in the wind like a banner over a ridge.

Warmth fluttered through her chest like a shy sparrow, and she lowered her head as Lin Fan held out a hand like a branch in rain.

“Thank you, Young Master,” she breathed, cheeks flushing like peach blossoms as her fingers closed around his warm palm like a cup around tea.

Ache came first like an old wound, and Lin Fan’s thoughts staggered as a smile flashed in memory like sunlight on gold, the girl’s hair pouring like honey and her joy cutting to the soul like a bell.

“It’s fine,” he told himself, drawing in cool air like mint and steadying his heart like a rock in a stream.

“She’s back at my side, and all I’m waiting on is her awakening like dawn behind clouds.”

He signaled the pilot with a nod like a raised lantern, and the pilot answered with a thumb-up like a bold pennant before the engines spooled and the bird slid away like a shadow.

“This is so high, Young Master—do we take the elevator down like normal folks?” Lin Yumo asked, peering over the rail like a kitten over a well.

“That’s too slow,” Lin Fan said, stepping in like a tide and wrapping her slim waist like a belt.

“W-wait, Young Master!” she squeaked, face reddening like a sunset, as her feet left the roof like leaves on a gust.

“Hold tight,” he said, and they leaped from the edge like swallows diving.

Branches erupted around them like coiling dragons, weaving into a chute of living wood like a river frozen mid-fall.

Relief loosened her breath like a knot untied, and Lin Yumo opened her crimson eyes like rose petals, taking in the wild slide that dropped dozens of floors like a silk ribbon.

“You’re amazing, Young Master,” she whispered, tightening her arms around him like ivy clinging to stone.

They touched down like seeds finding soil, and the wooden chute collapsed behind them like a wave turning to mist and fading into air like dust in sunlight.

“Then, the mission begins,” Lin Fan said, flicking open a tactical panel like a compass and setting their course like an arrow toward its mark.

The city lay carved into zones like a bruised fruit, and this sector belonged to the bomber like a den claimed by a wolf.

Other sectors still held citizens huddled indoors like sparrows in rain, and the army could only shield them like a wall against surf.

Anyone who tried to retake this place was blown apart like clay pots— even ability-users nearly didn’t return, like moths singed at a flame.

“It’s my first time seeing a city like this,” Lin Yumo said, eyes roaming like lanterns, as the streets sprawled like a scene after a biohazard.

Wallets and clothes were scattered like fallen leaves, shops on both sides had been stripped like orchards after locusts, and glass and goods lay in chaos like a kicked anthill.

“Where did all the people go, the ones who walk the streets like rivers?” she asked, turning to Lin Fan like a compass seeking north.

“When this hits, they stay indoors like turtles in their shells—no one strolls the streets for fun like a midnight wanderer,” he said.

A small boy burst from an alley like a startled sparrow, running and crying like rain on stone as he homed in on them like a beacon.

He skidded to a stop before them like a pebble at the tide.

“Big brother, big sister, please save my mom—she’s about to die!” he pleaded, tears streaking like wet ink.

Reluctance pricked Lin Yumo like a thorn, and she glanced up like a wary fox.

“Young Master, do we help or not, if it slows the hunt like mud?”

“It’s on our way,” Lin Fan said, gentling his voice like a hand over a frightened foal.

“It shouldn’t take long like a breath.”

He crouched to the boy’s level like a tree bending to shade, and his eyes softened like warm tea.

“Take us to your mother.”