From behind the thick cloud of cement dust, an arrow shot out with a sharp whistle that split the air, heading straight for Haoran's heart. Without turning his head, Haoran's right hand moved with terrifying precision—he caught the shaft of the arrow just centimeters before it could touch his chest. The vibration from the energy contained within the arrow could still be felt spreading across his palm, yet Haoran remained unmoved.
In the blink of an eye, gray smoke exploded again behind him. The female assassin appeared abruptly in a pitiful condition; her body was covered in slash wounds, and her black tactical outfit was torn to shreds, revealing bruised skin from previous impacts. With the little strength she had left, she swung her katana in a deadly horizontal strike.
Haoran, with almost inhuman calmness, shifted positions just before the blade could touch a single strand of his hair. He turned casually, watching the assassin as she swung her katana again in desperation. Haoran evaded with a smooth slide of his feet, as if he were dancing over burning embers. The next second, the woman pulled her mechanical bow at close range and fired another transparent projectile.
Once again, Haoran vanished and reappeared precisely at her left side. He threw a punch, but the assassin exploded into smoke and reappeared directly behind his back. Haoran turned instantly, yet she had already shifted to his right side. Haoran immediately launched a low sweeping kick, but the woman kept teleporting endlessly, leaving behind increasingly dense trails of gray smoke.
Haoran curved his lips into a faint smile, brushing dust off his black sunglasses. "Is a killer only good at running around?" he mocked softly.
The gray smoke around them grew so thick that it blocked visibility. From above, an arrow descended, followed by dozens more appearing randomly from within the fog. Haoran did not counterattack; he simply evaded by continuously shifting positions, as if he existed everywhere at once.
Sensing an opening, Haoran shifted upward, hovering briefly in the air before landing on the floor of a half-destroyed building. There, he saw the woman standing amid concrete ruins, drawing her bowstring toward the sky. Haoran smiled slightly as the arrow was released. In a fraction of a second, he teleported behind her.
The assassin reacted swiftly, turning and swinging her blade with full force. Haoran ducked dramatically, letting the katana slice through empty air. She did not give up; she immediately fired her bow at point-blank range. Haoran leapt, shifted behind her again, and delivered a lethal punch. The assassin managed to evade, but without realizing it, a punch from an unexpected direction—the result of Haoran's spatial residue—struck her back squarely.
"BOOM!"
The woman fell from the building floor, sent flying before slamming into the ground with a thunderous crash. Before she could regain her focus, Haoran was already standing beside her. With a cold motion, he kicked her leg, knocking her down again as she tried to rise. He then stepped on her chest, applying enough pressure to lock her movement.
Behind the black sunglasses concealing his gaze, Haoran said in a belittling tone, "So weak. Even if you can teleport, my teleportation is far superior."
The woman did not utter a single word. Her eyes, filled with fury, glinted briefly before her body turned into smoke once more and shifted to the rooftop. She turned, then ran away at high speed, leaping across ruined buildings until she vanished beyond the gray city horizon.
Haoran walked back toward Yan Shuo, who was still sitting stiffly atop his golden book. "Alright, let's continue our journey," Haoran said casually.
"Alright," Yan Shuo replied in a deliberately lazy tone to hide his admiration. Deep inside, he muttered that he would feel much safer staying on this book and being protected by the strange man he called Uncle.
Their steps halted when someone shot past them from behind at incredible speed. The man wore an extremely futuristic military uniform: a charcoal-black combat coat made of lightweight steel fiber with faint glowing dark-blue lines along the shoulders. His tactical vest was plated with matte metal engraved with a magnificent golden star emblem on the chest, paired with dark combat trousers and high boots reinforced with lightweight steel designed for rapid tactical movement.
They witnessed a strange sight: the man's hand transformed into elongated wood with a sharp tip, stabbing firmly into the wall of the building ahead. With a powerful pull from his wooden limb, he launched forward, released his grip, and embedded the wood into the next building, moving acrobatically between the collapsing structures.
As he passed directly above them, the military man briefly glanced at Yan Shuo and Haoran with a vigilant look before refocusing ahead.
"Uncle, why didn't he attack us?" Yan Shuo asked in confusion.
Haoran smiled faintly and snorted. "Of course not. They are this country's Stellar military organization. Commonly called SDC or Stellar Defense Command."
"Military organization? SDC?" Yan Shuo murmured, trying to process the new information. "I've never heard this country has a special Stellar military organization…"
"They rarely appear in public," Haoran replied while continuing to walk. "As far as I know, they are only deployed when the danger level reaches city scale, or when rebel factions start going insane."
"Then why didn't someone as strong as you join the SDC?" Yan Shuo asked innocently.
Haoran smiled thinly, his steps followed by Yan Shuo's floating book. "Everyone has different goals, kid. Some want to be the nation's shield, others just want to earn a piece of bread in peace."
Yan Shuo fell silent, pondering the answer. But the calm atmosphere quickly shattered. The military man who had just passed them suddenly shouted hoarsely, "Everyone fall back! We need to stall for time first!"
He was now running backward down the street, his body covered in wounds and his once-proud uniform stained with blood. While retreating, he turned his body and transformed his hand into an organic wooden rifle. From its wooden barrel, he fired dense wooden bullets at high speed.
"Damn it… those bastards have already surpassed city-scale… explosions everywhere!" he muttered between heavy breaths. He turned sharply, attempting to hide in a narrow alley near a nearly collapsed building. Upon reaching the alley's shadow, he collapsed weakly, leaning his back against a cracked concrete wall.
"What the hell… even after deploying twenty elites, we still couldn't push them back," he lamented in despair.
Suddenly, a building above collapsed due to a long-range attack, forcing him to leap out of the alley. But outside, he was already confronted by an enemy whose appearance sharply contrasted with the grandeur of the SDC uniform.
The enemy wore mismatched shabby clothing; a faded old jacket and worn trousers full of rough creases. He held a large worn-out bag that appeared tattered yet densely filled. The military man no longer ran. With his remaining energy, he aimed his wooden rifle-hand directly at the shabby man.
On the other side, the enemy opened his bag. Inside were thousands of square sheets of pure white paper. With a single hand motion, he spun the papers into the air until they hardened and sharpened like deadly silver needles.
The SDC soldier fired relentlessly from his wooden rifle, while his opponent hurled the needle-shaped papers with such tremendous force that they created intense wind pressure. The two types of projectiles collided midair. However, the wooden bullets of the captain could not withstand the sharpness of the paper and shattered into pieces.
"What? My bullets shattered?" the military man muttered in disbelief.
He continued firing large quantities of wooden bullets, but all were destroyed before reaching their target. A small paper airplane circled around the shabby man, acting as an automatic shield that deflected every attack with extraordinary speed.
Realizing he was utterly outmatched in destructive power, the military man immediately transformed both hands into long wooden vines. He turned, embedded them into the top of a nearby building, and swung away to escape.
The shabby-dressed man did not rush. He simply took two sheets of paper from his bag and threw them to the ground. Strangely, the papers did not fall but floated rigidly in the air. He stepped onto one as if it were solid steel. He took another step, and the second sheet landed precisely beneath his other foot. With calm yet certain steps, he continued walking upward through the air, pursuing the military man.