“Young Master, I’m bored…” Lin Yumo brushed a tear that slid like a dew bead from her lash; she yawned like a sleepy kitten, her voice tinged with a small sulk, her eyes settled on the black‑haired youth.
Steel first, worry beneath—Lin Fan’s tone cut like a blade. “We’re on a mission. Treat every moment like a tightrope; even the strong capsize when they relax.”
“Got it, Young Master.” The girl with dark‑green hair rubbed her cheeks like warming hands at dawn, trying to wake; a shrill warning blared from her suit’s core like a hawk’s cry.
“Young Master, someone’s closing in!” Lin Yumo dashed into the nearby building like wind into reeds and sprinted for the roof; “Southwest corner, that bend—one minute out, single target.”
Her voice stayed clear, a bell in a storm. “Good. I’ll wait here.” Lin Fan turned to the street mouth like a dark cave; with Yumo in her perch, his calm pooled like still water.
A figure crawled from the dusk like a shadow—Brother Fly stepped into their sightline.
“Who are you?” Lin Fan’s voice stayed cool as frost; his eyes were obsidian stones weighing the man.
“Easy. I’m here to talk cooperation.” Brother Fly felt his life hang like a frayed thread; he raised his hands high, two pale flags, showing empty skin and no steel.
“Cooperation?” The word dropped like a cold pebble, ripples tight in the air.
“Yeah. I’m Hu Fei’s underling. I know where he is.” He lowered his arms, stopping four or five meters away like a wary stray.
“Why would I trust you?” Interest sparked in Lin Fan like a green ember; if he could draw water from this stone, he’d spare a few words.
“Hu Fei runs wild here, smashing things like a bull. I was a small‑time thug on this turf; he pressed me and my boys, swear to follow or be wiped out, and he blew one to pieces on the spot.” Brother Fly’s hatred poured like acid rain; “Seeing you two, I knew the debt would come due today, so I came straight here.”
He blinked, a needle of doubt pricking air. “Wasn’t there a girl? Why are you alone?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Tell me your plan.” He didn’t know a silver‑white Barrett watched him from an eagle’s perch; one twitch, and his head would burst like a ripe watermelon.
“My boys are baiting Hu Fei, saying I caught you two. We set the ground ahead; when he shows up,” Brother Fly drew a hand‑blade across his neck like a cold crescent, “we cut him down, then we’ll need you two.”
“What do you want out of it?” Lin Fan nodded, steady as a tide; even a trap could be a net to sweep them all, whichever way the current ran.
“Just a word to the government, wipe our records clean like rain on dust—we want to turn a new leaf and be decent.” A smile slid over his face like paint on wood; true or false, no one cared.
“Lead the way.” Green light flickered over Lin Fan’s hand like spring sap; a thick root tore up from the soil, climbing the wall like a serpent, then pausing near the roof.
Lin Yumo locked her Barrett, slung it like a moon on her back, and hopped onto the root as it lowered like an elevator of bark.
Brother Fly stared, stunned, his old world cracking like thin ice; powers used to be kiddie tales, but reality had slapped him like thunder.
The root sank back into the earth like a swallowed spear; the green‑haired girl stepped to Lin Fan’s six like a shadow, her gaze never landing a heartbeat on Brother Fly.
When she touched down, Brother Fly finally caught her face—beauty like moonlight across still water. “Damn, I’ve never seen one this pretty.” He let two glances drift like leaves, then led the way, stiff as a soldier; the earlier warning burned like a scar, and her trigger hand had been pure frost.
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“Boss Hu Fei,” after a few knocks like drumbeats, Brother Fly’s boys slipped into Hu Fei’s office, a den lit like amber.
“I heard you scouted the west. What’s the situation?” Hu Fei toyed with a handgun, bullets clicking like seeds; he popped them out one by one, then nested them back.
“Good news. We bagged two reckless outsiders. Losses were heavy, and they had powers, but our numbers crashed over them like a tide.”
“Good. Where are they now? I want to see them myself.” At the news, Hu Fei slapped the gun onto the table like a thunderclap and rose, his gaze a drawn blade.
“North Plaza—can’t miss it.” They traded looks that sparked like flint and answered quick.
“I’ll go check first. You take care of the wounded.” Hu Fei left at a gallop like a stallion; new power burned in him like a furnace, and “reliable” thugs circled like wolves, so joy flared hot.
After he left, the others whispered like mice in grain. “The plan might actually work.” “Hope the boss nails it; let’s pack our stuff—could be tens of millions.” “Move, move.”
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“This is it.” Brother Fly pointed to the plaza ahead, his finger an arrow, the square a chessboard.
“Wide open terrain.” Lin Fan read the scene like lines on the palm; he and Lin Yumo fixed on a high‑rise nearby, an eagle’s nest with the whole square in view.
“Perfect for a sniper.” The place fit the two like lock and key: no walls to block, explosions chained like thunder behind glass.
As for Brother Fly, Lin Fan trusted him a bit, the way you trust a man not to march into a cliff—no one sets a deathtrap this stupid.
“When will he arrive?” Lin Fan asked, half‑turned, his words a pebble tossed into clockwork.
“Within ten minutes. My guy just messaged me; he’s on the way.” A fawning smile oiled Brother Fly’s face like sheen on water. “I’ll leave it to you two and wait over there for good news.”
“Go on. You’re done here.” Lin Fan turned to Lin Yumo, his voice iron under silk. “I can handle him. Yumo, check that building; if things break, cover me like a canopy.”
“Relax, Young Master.” Her promise lay smooth as silk, her calm a lake at dusk.
