Inside the screening room.
All 1,663 students and teachers from No. 2 High huddled together. Armed militants patrolled tightly with AA5 high-speed rifles. The hostages dared not make even a whisper. The air hung thick with suffocating tension.
“I can’t stand this anymore…”
A Qiang’s eyes locked onto a female student in the chair. Her tender white neck, her well-developed chest—they stirred a fierce reaction below his waist. At just twenty, A Qiang had grown up in the slums, steeped in crime since childhood. Surrounded by bitterness, he seethed with jealousy and hatred toward those living happily downtown.
Meng Bo, the leader of the armed group, stood smoking near the exit. A Qiang sidled up with a sly grin, whispering his desire.
“You’re asking if you can play with a few women?”
Meng Bo’s face twisted into a cruel smile. He was tempted.
“Exactly. I’ve held back for days for this operation. Now all those pale, tender girls look like little lambs. I can’t resist. Mr. Bernie Butterworth said not to harm hostages, but a little fun shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
A Qiang leaned closer, but Meng Bo shoved him away hard.
“Your breath stinks like hell.”
Meng Bo eyed the female students hungrily. But Bernie Butterworth’s ruthlessness flashed in his mind. Defying him meant ruin. In Sanjing Street, he was a big shot. Before a Mage, he was nothing.
“I’ll ask Mr. Butterworth.”
Meng Bo climbed the stage. With exaggerated humility, he presented his men’s “health concerns.” He argued that bottling up urges tortured body and soul—risking prostatitis, impotence, and worse.
“Fine. But don’t kill them. And don’t disturb the other hostages.”
Bernie Butterworth’s approval stunned Meng Bo.
Watching Meng Bo strut back to share the news, Bernie merely sneered.
“Is this wise, Lord Bernie?”
Only one dared question him: Aleksy Dominik, standing beside him.
Bernie’s gaze swept the restless crowd below. “I know what you mean. But they deserve a final taste of pleasure. A last joy before the end.”
A Qiang beamed, greedily scanning the girls. He zeroed in on his prey.
“You. Come here.”
Qin Jiangshu turned deathly pale. She didn’t know what awaited her, but the thug’s vicious expression promised horror.
*Female teachers are always more fun*, A Qiang thought eagerly.
“What do you want? I won’t go with you…” Qin Jiangshu’s voice trembled.
A Qiang raised his AA5 rifle. Students shrank back as he advanced. He grabbed her arm, yanking her up. She struggled, refusing to rise.
“You bitch!”
A slap sent Qin Jiangshu reeling. Blood gushed from her nose. Her ears rang. Her body went limp.
Just as A Qiang dragged her away, a girl stood up.
“Stop!”
Su Fangwen’s heart hammered like never before. Her voice shook with fear, but she glared fiercely at the thug stealing her teacher.
“Not bad. I almost missed you.” A Qiang leered, aiming his rifle. “Strip. Now.”
Su Fangwen’s face drained of color. Her pupils widened. She stared back, unblinking.
Everyone knew what came next. But guns silenced all courage.
“Please stop this.”
The bald dean rose shakily. A powerful fist answered him.
Meng Bo shook his hand, sneering at the old man writhing on the floor. He scanned the room—every face frozen in terror. Pride swelled in his chest. His eyes landed on Su Fangwen.
Panic clawed at Su Fangwen as the bald giant approached. She glanced left and right. Heads stayed bowed. Those who met her pleading gaze quickly looked away.
Trapped. A hand seized her arm. As she was dragged backward, a figure leapt from the crowd.
Qi Jun.
His foot slammed into Meng Bo’s head. He spun, landing five rapid punches—neck, ribs, face. His movements were fluid, powerful, nothing like a street thug’s.
Meng Bo’s massive frame crumpled. Qi Jun snatched the fallen AA5 rifle.
Su Fangwen stumbled back, saved.
“Sit down! Don’t move!”
Chaos erupted. Terrorists aimed rifles, shouting. Gunshots cracked. Students fleeing collapsed, groaning.
Their leader down, A Qiang abandoned the teacher. He raised his rifle at Qi Jun—but Qi Jun was faster.
Gunfire roared. 7.62mm bullets tore into A Qiang’s body.
Blood splattered Qin Jiangshu. She crouched, trembling in terror.
Qi Jun pressed his advantage—until the AA5 in his grip seared hot. His palm burned. The smell of cooked flesh filled the air. He dropped it. The rifle melted into molten slag. His eyes snapped to the stage. A hand was outstretched toward him.
“Interesting. One decent student among them.”
Bernie Butterworth smiled, chin resting on his hand. Aleksy lowered his arm, nodding in approval.
Armed men swarmed Qi Jun. Meng Bo, recovered, pummeled him.
“Lucky for you, Mr. Butterworth forbids killing. Or I’d cripple you.”
Bloodied but defiant, Qi Jun glared with one eye. His sneer said: *Without backup, you’d be the one broken.*
“Hmph.” Meng Bo turned away, bored. His gaze settled on Su Fangwen, twisting into a vicious grin.
No one dared resist now. Under gunpoint, all kept their heads down. No one sacrificed themselves. Everyone clung too tightly to their own lives.
Su Fangwen, Qin Jiangshu, and several girls were dragged toward the rear corridor—a supposed exit that looked like a gateway to hell.
The room was 26°C, yet Su Fangwen shivered. Her body stiffened. A punch to her stomach after her defiance left her nauseous, powerless.
*Why hasn’t he come…*
Despair flooded her heart. She prayed silently. Even still, they dragged her. Her vision blurred with tears.
“Do you feel it?” Bernie asked suddenly.
“One person. 170 km/h. Arrival in 11 seconds.”
Aleksy looked up, waiting.
The other five Waste Law Society members exchanged confused glances. They sensed nothing.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
BOOM!
As Bernie finished counting, the ceiling exploded like a bomb hit. A shockwave ripped through the room. Dust billowed—but not a single shard fell.
Seeing that familiar figure, Su Fangwen’s tears finally broke free.
“Sorry I’m late for class.”
Yan Lingxuan’s tone was joking. But his face held no smile. Only icy coldness.
He floated midair. Behind him, shattered concrete hung suspended.
