"Reporting, sir! The hostage situation has lasted nearly two hours!"

The young officer saluted the disheveled police inspector—a stark contrast in energy between them. One radiated youthful vigor; the other slumped with exhaustion, paperwork abandoned on his desk.

"Keep it down. I was napping," the inspector mumbled.

"A-acknowledged, sir!" The rookie froze, stunned by such shameless laziness.

"My apologies, sir. He’s just... like this." A female officer with orange bobbed hair stepped forward. Her sharp uniform, fishnet stockings, and petite glasses made the rookie gulp. "He’s fine. But the inspector seems out of it?"

"That’s his default setting. Brief me instead."

Facing such beauty, the rookie snapped to attention. "Yes, ma’am! Three hostages inside: two bank clerks and the manager. Perpetrators are the Yodekeli gang—a local yakuza splinter group. Their leader has three robbery priors, no homicides."

"Hmph. Must be heavily armed to hold out this long."

"Actually... they disarmed a Hero instructor who rushed in. Two D-grade Heroes followed him later."

"*Two* Heroes? And they still can’t handle street thugs?" The bespectacled officer paled. Though technically senior, she’d only been on duty two months. She glanced helplessly at the inspector—only to meet his drooping eyelids.

"Not quite," the rookie corrected. "One Hero sent a warning: a teacher strapped explosives to himself. He’ll detonate anytime."

"*What?!*" The inspector’s eyes snapped open. He seized the rookie’s shoulders. "You mean a *Hero teacher* turned terrorist—?!"

Before the flustered officer could reply, the inspector shoved him aside and grabbed a megaphone.

"EVACUATE THE AREA! THIS IS A CODE RED ZONE! A SUICIDE BOMBER’S GONE ROGUE!!"

---

Inside the bank, tension hung thick.

Yodekeli, a minor gang boss with few men but many crimes under his belt, had one fatal flaw: his temper. He’d once smashed a microwave over instant noodles taking too long. Today’s life-or-death standoff? Unbearable.

"*Screw this!*" he roared, surging to his feet. Zeming and his students finally saw his true size—he’d been sitting earlier, silent and coiled. Now, he towered like a skyscraper, veins bulging blue on his forehead. "I’LL BLOW US BOTH TO HELL!"

His body *rippled*. Muscles swelled, shredding his leather jacket sleeves. He doubled in size—a human balloon inflating violently. His shirt tore, revealing slabs of muscle; his legs thickened like tree trunks. A fist the size of a wok hurtled toward Zeming’s face.

"What *are* you?!" Zeming sidestepped smoothly. The fist cratered a bank vault behind him.

"None of your damn business!" Yodekeli snarled, swinging again.

"I can’t stop you," Zeming sighed, stepping back. "But the police and Hero Association will." He flicked his fingers.

In a flash, Yunhu Li swapped places with his teacher. The teen met Yodekeli’s fist mid-leap—*CRACK!*

"*Strong!*" Yunhu skidded backward, bracing his stance.

"Use your *brain*, not brute force," Zeming chided, unstrapping fake bombs near Evelith. He shot her a look.

"COVER THE BOSS!"

"KILL THAT KID!"

Gunfire erupted. Bullets sparked harmlessly off a shimmering blue barrier Evelith conjured—one shield enveloping Zeming, another accidentally shielding Yodekeli.

"Those weren’t real bombs?!" Evelith gasped.

"Of course not. Did I *look* suicidal?" Zeming winked. "Old ginger’s always spiciest." He turned to Yunhu, locked in a shoving match with Yodekeli. The gangster smirked; Yunhu’s face flushed crimson. "Hurry up. We’ve got homework to skip."

"Got it!" Yunhu flipped backward, scaling Yodekeli’s arm like a gymnast.

"*Get off me!*" Yodekeli bellowed.

"Gladly." Yunhu launched upward, twisting mid-air. His axe kick slammed onto Yodekeli’s skull. The giant crumpled, eyes rolling back.

"Good thinking," Zeming praised. "You’re sharpest when you *use* that head."

"*Teacheeerr!*" Yunhu groaned.

"Let’s go. I trust my students." Zeming patted his shoulder.

"No homework tonight, right~?" Evelith chirped, perched atop a pile of groaning thugs.

"How’d you beat them?" Yunhu whispered.

"Trade secret," she teased.

***SHIIING!***

The bank doors vaporized into glittering shards. A silver-clad figure somersaulted through the wreckage—blades gleaming like fractured moonlight.

"*Wife?*" Zeming choked.

Before Yunhu and Evelith could blink, the masked heroine—Void Blade—zipped past them. She landed five paces behind, spinning to deliver a cross-slash that dropped Yodekeli *again* as he tried to rise.

"Senior Void Blade! Thank you!" Yunhu bowed deeply. His idol stood before him—and she was Zeming’s wife.

"Always confirm targets are *truly* down," she said coolly. "Danger never sleeps."

"I thought his head felt hard..." Yunhu mumbled.

"*That’s* why you’re still D-grade," Evelith giggled. "Maybe quit while you’re ahead?"

"You kids did fine," Void Blade’s gaze hardened at Zeming. "*You*, however—" She spotted the discarded lithium vest. Her voice turned glacial. "*What. Were. You. Thinking?*"

"Uh... beautiful ma’am?" Zeming cringed. "*WHACK!*" Her bare palm cracked across his face with superhuman force.

"*UWAAAAH—!*" He spun like a top before crashing down.

"*Teacher?!*"

"*Is this... advanced pedagogy?!*"

"Why risk this?!" she shouted.

"...Deeply sorry. Won’t happen again, *Hero*," Zeming whimpered, cheek swelling. Tears leaked from his squinted eyes.

"See that it doesn’t."

"*Yes, ma’am.*"

Yunhu and Evelith exchanged bewildered glances. This felt less like mentorship—and more like a married couple’s spat.

Void Blade stiffened, realizing her slip. She knelt by Yodekeli, retrieving a small box from his coat.

The inspector strolled in, cigarette dangling. "All wrapped up, eh?"

"*I’m injured!*" Zeming waved weakly from the floor.

"*You?*" The inspector kicked his boot. "Trespassing *again*, kid."

"I’ll sue for human rights violations, Inspector Yang!"

"I'm not afraid of you. Last year, you orchestrated two car accidents involving criminals, landing them in the hospital for two years—and you still haven't paid for that."

Hearing this, the teacher used to be quite a troublemaker back in the day.

Eira walked past Inspector Yang, casually tossing the square box to him as she prepared to leave.

"What's this?"

"You'll find it interesting. It's about the experiment of that recently emerged organization."

"Hmph!"

Inspector Yang gripped the square box tightly, a sudden flame of urgency igniting in his lethargic eyes.

Zeming, lying on the ground, suddenly widened his eyes. Finally, something pleasant had happened.

"What do you all know..." Inspector Chen started to ask, but no one was beside him anymore. "Is being so elusive really that fun? These masked people are truly incomprehensible."

"True," Zeming replied. "After all, we're not from the same world."

Zeming shifted his posture, lying on his back on the ground while opening the paper Eira had left behind.

Seeing the scene on the paper—even though it was full of creases, it still brought a smile to his face—Zeming truly felt relieved that he hadn't messed anything up.

"Vivian," he murmured, "my face isn't this chubby. Only drawing Mom so beautifully—what a biased kid you are."