The room was in disarray, the afternoon was giving way to dusk, and the light grew dim.

In the randomly rented house, at this moment, there was a deadly silence, with only rage spreading.

Slap, slap, slap, slap...

In the low thuds, the scar-faced captain had just come back from outside. After slamming the door, he looked towards the corner where the Chosen One was keeping watch. After confirming that the inside and outside were shielded, he could no longer restrain his fury. He threw his hat on the ground, kicked a chair away, and bellowed, "Did you lose your mind today, goddamn your mother, this isn't Central Earth, do you understand? If you really piss off the Security Bureau, do you think we can make it out of Hai Province?"

"Killing all day long! Damn it, kill, we came out here to make money, not play at killing, get it? Without money, who's going to treat your illness, huh? Do you have any idea how many people are looking for us outside?

Now what? No money to be made, just wait to die, damn your mare!"

Slap, slap, slap...

In the muffled sounds, no one responded.

The captain became even angrier: "Herbert, I'm talking here, did you hear me?"

"Heh..."

At the table's edge, Herbert leaned against the wall, his head knocking against it intermittently, with a vacant smile, his expression twitching from time to time.

On the foil spread out on the table, powder residue remained.

"Captain, it's my fault. I know, I shouldn't have, I was wrong..."

From the midst of the Suppressant-induced hallucinations, Herbert's pupils dilated, gasping: "I know, but there are voices, voices... the sound of dripping water, the tinkling of bells, the sound of speech... so chaotic..."

"I'm so tired, I can't sleep."

His eyes were bloodshot and in the twitching, they grew increasingly red: "Close my eyes, and voices are everywhere."

"Things like ants, all inside the walls, crawling all over, inside my veins, but I can't find them."

In that hollow laughter, he scratched at his arms and neck, tearing the skin and drawing blood, thick and lingering on his fingertips, so sweet. Tentatively licking it for a moment, he seemed to fall into intoxication, gnawing on his fingers, unable to stop.

Even as blood flowed freely.

The captain's complexion gradually turned ugly, as if facing a great enemy, he pulled on Herbert's arm to check: "Where's the medicine? Didn't you inject the Suppressant?!"

Under his feet, there was only a bulging backpack.

But upon opening it, he found only a bunch of used syringes.

A month's worth of Suppressant had already been injected.

Now, empty.

"I injected it, all of it, everything, but it was no use, captain, that voice, it's getting louder, right inside my head."

Herbert twitched, hitting the wall over and over, but the smile on his face only became more hollow and eerie, as the thick crimson slowly crept up to his eyes.

"No matter what, I can't kill them all, heh, hehhehheh... Just need to kill them all, and it will be quiet, it'll be quiet..."

In that instant, the vacant, disordered pupils finally converged amongst the bloodiness.

A fierce light emerged.

Crimson tears slowly slid down from the corner of his eyes.

He said, "I found it."

That instant, alongside the collapse of reason, a frenetic entity was born from the shattered soul.

When Old Zhang kicked down the door, breaking through the camouflage set by the Mirror system, what he saw was a scene of devastation.

Limbs were scattered, and broken entrails stuck to the walls.

Walls, floors, ceilings, all shattered.

Riddled with holes.

And a head with a scar slowly rolled to his feet, the severed head still bearing its previous expression.

Pain, anger, sorrow, and a trace of numbness.

Too complicated, now blurred by death, no longer distinguishable.

Only the intermittent sound of breathing, rising from an empty corner.

"Come out!"

Old Zhang suddenly reached out, a violent wind swept through, thunder burst forth, and in the impact of the blast wave, the Illusion Technique set up by the Mirror crumbled, revealing a figure covered in blood with a huge hole in his chest, barely alive.

"Save me, save me!"

Seeing someone burst in, he no longer cared about his own identity or the trial he might face, pleading with all his might: "Save me..."

Old Zhang was indifferent.

Silently surveying the surroundings, he stepped through the blood, approached, looked down, his hand raised but not reaching out. Between his fingers, a thread of pure life force shone faintly, swirling around, illuminating the pair of desperate eyes.

"Tell me what happened?"

"It was Herbert, Herbert the lunatic!" the ecstatic survivor blurted out incoherently: "He went mad, completely insane! Out of control! Even injecting the drug didn't work..."

In that instant, Old Zhang turned back in shock, looking at Xiao An.

Both of their expressions grew grim.

The worst scenario had occurred.

Mutated!

A Chosen One had lost control and mutated, and it was one of the crowd most skilled at killing!

"Where did he go?!"

Old Zhang abruptly grabbed the survivor's neck, forcing a breath back into him, demanding: "When did he leave?! Speak!"

"He just left, he just went out, only minutes ago, through the back window, I don't know, I really don't know!"

The survivor wailed and pleaded, no longer seeing the brutal carnage within the bar: "Save me, please save me, I beg you!"

But Old Zhang made no move, only asking one last question:

"Who is the employer?"

At that moment, a screeching cry suddenly erupted from within the room.

Out of the slithering shadows, a hand appeared without warning, reached out, brandishing an Invisible Dagger with a vaguely discernible blade, and stabbed towards the survivor in Old Zhang's hands!

Crash!

The quickest to react was Xiao An.

The moment he sensed the attacker, he turned and fled without hesitation, moving at breakneck speed.

He vanished on the spot and chased after the trace of Herbert's scent.

Completely unconcerned about Mr. Zhang's safety.

Or rather, deep down he didn't believe... that Mr. Zhang could possibly get hurt.

Then, the blade pierced the unremarkable, withered old hand.

Loose skin covering desiccated bones, blood vessels on the back of the hand clearly distinguishable, such a decrepit palm, upon touching the blade's edge, revealed a brilliance like that of gold.

Sparks flew as the blade proved futile.

But a line of green rapidly spread from the skin touched by the blade's edge...

Poison!

With a thought, Mr. Zhang pushed back the spreading discoloration to a mere line, which then fell from his fingertip, fizzing away.

"Trying to silence me?"

He glanced at the vague shadow in the dark and chuckled with a sudden realization, "Isn't it a bit late for that?"

"Old man, there's no need to risk your life for a few hundred dollars, wouldn't it be better to lay flat and earn a retirement fund?"

The voice of the hidden Chosen One was hoarse, "If there's no need, I'd rather not fight with the Security Bureau. Put him down, can't we pretend nothing happened?"

"It's Desert Market again..."

Mr. Zhang fell silent, eyeing him for a long period before slowly nodding, "Honestly, I'm not interested in the infighting of your White Deer, and I don't want the kids to get too deeply entangled in this mess. They are all good children, with their own futures ahead of them; they shouldn't be dragged into the dog-eat-dog fights among trash and scum.

So, actually, handing this guy over to you is no big deal.

No need to be so tense."

He said, "It's just a minor matter, after all."

Speaking, he tossed the desperate survivor on the ground between them, without a care, even leaving the Chosen One who had come to silence them stunned in place.

He hadn't expected the Security Bureau to be so reasonable.

Following that, the gaunt old man's words were heard.

"...However, I need a favor from you."

The old man lowered his gaze, looking at the wrinkles on his palm and the lingering blood, unable to suppress a soft sigh.

Working for the Security Bureau all his life, fighting tough battles.

Why is it that as he grew old, it seemed like life was regressing?

Back when he was in his thirties and forties, following the first Director, how spirited everyone was, as if the entire world was waiting for them to bring change.

But in just a blink of an eye, now, everyone had aged.

Those who died, died; those who retired, retired.

Leaving himself, the lone lucky old man who had survived the longest, clocking in and out each day, day after day, year after year, unwilling to continue, yet unwilling to leave, enduring with no end in sight, having lost his ambition, waiting for death.

And this world has turned into such a mess.

To the extent that... Desert Market, a place not fit for the public's eye, dares to stir trouble in Cliff City, and even such lowlifes dare to appear before him, swaggering with pride.

Too ridiculous.

If the old Director saw this scene, he'd probably be bending over with laughter, couldn't he?

But alas, he has passed away.

Many years ago...

He stared out the window at the dim sky and suddenly said, "I'm in a bad mood and want to vent."

"So—"

He pleaded, "Just try not to die too quickly."

Boom!!!

In that instant, before any response, before any indignation or questioning, even before realizing what was happening...

The shadows trembled, the space distorted, and the fleeting figure seemed to be frozen, already engulfed by the erupting rage akin to a volcanic explosion.

Consciousness felt as though it was cut off for a moment.

What happened? What just happened? What's happening to me?

In the midst of unprecedented agony, the man lying amidst the ruins finally came to, unable to lift his arms or move his legs, riddled with holes as if he were a rag doll.

It was as if someone had swung a fist at him.

Then, he remembered nothing more.

Why has this place turned into this? Where was I just now? No, who am I?

He couldn't remember.

He couldn't recall any of it.

The only thing he felt was unprecedented fear and despair.

"Very good, worthy of White Deer."

A voice came from a distance, through the several walls shattered by his path, a stranger's face emerged from the dust.

As if in approval, nodding:

"Tough life!"

But this face was no longer ordinary flesh and blood but surpassed the brilliance of metal with a resplendent golden hue, majestic and noble as if it were God and Buddha.

Based on the gifts of Transformation Rank's "Iron Bone," "Copper Heart," and "Divine Energy," fused and interconnected, hardened by the Rebirth Rank bodily refinement for decades upon decades... Through such a lengthy period, not a day wasted, not a day of slack, repeatedly tempered, what was achieved was this legendary and astonishing—

—Unbreakable Golden Body!

Tracing back to the beginning, reversing time, manifesting from the ignorant ages of mundane iron, the visage of the legendary Golden Human reemerged.

To call it Evolution might be inappropriate; to call it a devolution too dismissive. This is the glory revealed at the root of human nature and bloodline Ascension!

"Rest assured, we can play for a long time."

A single step covered hundreds of meters, and the old man was now close at hand, looking down upon the terrified Chosen One, suddenly breaking into a grin: "I just hope you don't die too quickly."

At that moment, on the indestructible iron fist, life force as dense as a waterfall emerged.

Mercy and Destruction concentrated between the fingers.

And so, he brought down devastation upon that stupefied face!

Boom!!!!!!

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