Chapter 15#
Chapter 15#
The underground level was only about a dozen steps from the ground floor. Zhao Xing’s voice was loud, and since the abandoned classroom had no door left, Luo Mingshan and Zhou Ming, who were waiting at the entrance of the passage, heard his shouting loud and clear.
Zhou Ming chuckled. “Sister-in-law, big bro finally admitted you’re his wife.”
He honestly couldn’t figure out what those two were up to. They were obviously a couple, yet they stubbornly refused to come out about it.
Their interactions were strange too—sometimes harmonious as a zither and a lute, sometimes at each other’s throats. Of course, most of it was because Brother Zhao had a terrible temper. Sometimes when he cursed his sister-in-law, it was downright harsh…
And Brother Zhao himself—normally, if Zhou Ming accidentally called him “sister-in-law,” Brother Zhao would get angry. But now here he was, calling his partner “wife” behind his back. What exactly was he being so awkward about all the time?
Luo Mingshan gave him a cold glance. “Don’t call me that. It’ll make him unhappy.”
“Oh.”
Zhou Ming immediately wiped the smile off his face and responded in a low voice.
He’d always felt that his “sister-in-law” was a bit… weird.
When Brother Zhao was around, he was easygoing, not at all arrogant, and a lot more approachable. But the moment Brother Zhao left, he’d change completely—cold expression, distant attitude, exuding an aura that screamed “Get lost, keep away from me.” And for some reason, it was a little frightening.
And, whether it was just his imagination or not, Zhou Ming always felt his sister-in-law didn’t much like him.
Wait. Zhou Ming’s expression shifted. “Why did Brother Zhao suddenly shout something like that? Something happen?”
What the hell did “my wife is waiting for me outside” mean?
Why did it sound so ominous?
Like the next sentence was supposed to be—“I can’t die!”
The more Zhou Ming thought about it, the more terrified he became. His face turned pale with fear.
Just then, Luo Mingshan moved. Frowning, he raised his flashlight and began walking down toward the underground.
Zhou Ming hurriedly grabbed at the hem of his shirt. “What are you doing? Where are you going?! Didn’t Brother Zhao tell us to wait here?!”
“They’ve pulled knives.”
Luo Mingshan’s voice was heavy and cold.
Zhou Ming froze for a moment, then his face went even paler, even his hands trembling slightly. “I… I’ll come too. I… I’m at least more useful than you! I can definitely help Brother Zhao!”
But Luo Mingshan didn’t even look at him. He strode forward on his long legs and vanished into the darkness in the blink of an eye.
Zhou Ming hesitated, then also switched on his flashlight and carefully made his way down.
By the time Luo Mingshan reached the entrance of the abandoned classroom, Zhao Xing had already taken down two men and was locked in combat with the remaining eight.
Those eight men held daggers, while Zhao Xing’s weapon was half a table leg.
This group was indeed much tougher than the ones they’d encountered at the cafeteria, not to mention they were armed with blades.
So even though Zhao Xing was skilled, his cheek had been cut.
He’d dodged fast, so the wound was only a shallow, light line of blood, but it was dangerously close—if it had been off by even a little, it would have hit his eye.
Watching the injury on Zhao Xing’s face, Luo Mingshan nearly crushed the doorframe in his grip.
He stared at the man who had cut Zhao Xing, his eyes dark. He started moving recklessly into the room without a second thought.
“Luo Mingshan, get the hell out!” Zhao Xing shouted angrily from inside.
Only then did Luo Mingshan snap out of it.
His face went pale, and he involuntarily took a step back.
Su Dong’an, who had been lying on the ground recovering from the kick Zhao Xing had delivered that left him dazed, saw Luo Mingshan and suddenly mustered all his strength to struggle to his feet.
Staggering, a malicious look on his face, he lunged at Luo Mingshan with the dagger!
Luo Mingshan expressionlessly executed the flying kick Zhao Xing had taught him today.
But this time, he didn’t bother to control his strength.
“Bang!”
Su Dong’an was sent flying, crashing heavily into the wall behind him, and then slumped to the ground.
“Pfft—”
Su Dong’an stared at Luo Mingshan with disbelief and despair, his eyes wide, as blood poured from his mouth without stopping, as if all the blood in his body was being drained.
Luo Mingshan, on the other hand, stepped back two paces, a faint look of disgust on his face. His clothes were spotless, not a single drop of that filthy blood touched him.
He smoothed a hand over the slightly wrinkled fabric of his shirt, then raised his head, his indifferent gaze meeting Zhou Ming’s terrified face.
Zhou Ming immediately dropped his eyes to the ground, his heart pounding like a drum.
But Luo Mingshan’s gaze only passed over him, landing on Zhao Xing at the center of the fight.
Though Zhao Xing’s movements were swift and showed no sign of fatigue, the fury and ferocity on his face were increasing by the second.
Luo Mingshan clenched his fists, then released them. He lowered his eyelids, step by step retreating, until his back was nearly against the wall. Then he raised his right hand and pressed it flat against the wall.
An invisible current of electricity spread out from Luo Mingshan’s palm, then traveled along the wall, seeping from the walls into the floor, and finally settling beneath the feet of the seven knife-wielding men.
As Zhao Xing fought, he suddenly began to feel something was off. The men he was facing had become like they’d lost their wits—stiff in their movements, slow to react, full of openings.
Zhao Xing quickly took down one after another. The relief helped him loosen up, and he couldn’t help jeering: “What’s the matter, puppies? Did you eat something bad during your team-building party?”
About ten minutes later, every one of them had been knocked to the ground, trembling and moaning in pain.
Zhao Xing walked past them one by one, adding a couple extra kicks to those who displeased him. It was immensely satisfying—until he reached Su Dong’an and the smug grin froze on his face.
Su Dong’an… was different.
He was dead.
His face was pale and ashen, no breath left. Blood had stained nearly the entire upper half of his shirt.
And on his face was still the clear imprint of the kick Zhao Xing had just delivered.
…Had he kicked too hard?
Did he damage his brain?
Had he kicked him to death?
Zhao Xing was stunned.
His cousin who drowned, Su Ge who died suddenly—though both were because of him… they hadn’t been killed by his own hand.
But now, it seemed he had actually killed someone.
Zhao Xing had originally thought he wouldn’t care. He’d been in countless fights, several of which had nearly cost lives. And Su Dong’an was trash anyway. The bastard had wanted to kill Zhao Xing first, and now he’d gotten himself killed instead—serving him right.
But still, Zhao Xing swallowed hard. His throat felt dry.
He had killed someone.
“…It was me.” A trembling, timid voice came from beside him.
Zhao Xing turned his head. It was Luo Mingshan.
His face was pale, his expression petrified. In his overwhelming terror, he even forgot the rule of “don’t speak unless spoken to.” Looking at Zhao Xing, he said, “Brother Zhao, I killed someone.”
Zhao Xing was stunned. “…How?”
Luo Mingshan gripped his clothes tightly, his voice hoarse. “I… I used the move you taught me, Brother Zhao. I kicked him, and then he started vomiting blood all of a sudden, and then… and then…”
Zhao Xing yanked open Su Dong’an’s shirt and indeed found a purplish-blue bruise on his chest.
Zhao Xing felt dazed.
He knew Luo Mingshan was strong, but this level of strength…
“I killed someone—” Luo Mingshan whispered.
“Shut up!” Zhao Xing interrupted him sharply.
He pulled Su Dong’an’s shirt back down to cover the mark.
Then he looked at the trembling Luo Mingshan and sneered: “Who the hell do you think you are? You think one kick is enough to kill someone?! He died because I first crushed his skull with my kick. That kick of yours was basically meaningless to him. And you want to claim you killed someone? Look at you, all big talk. If you’re so tough, why don’t you go kick someone else to death and show me, huh?”
Luo Mingshan’s eyes went wide—bright, translucent, as if reflecting the light. Hearing Zhao Xing say this, he seemed to grasp at a lifeline, barely daring to believe he had been given a reprieve. “R-really?”
Zhao Xing’s tone was impatient: “Of course it’s true. What kind of damn person do you think I am that I’d need to lie to you? Zhou Ming, tell him—am I right or not?”
Zhou Ming, suddenly called out, startled. Dazedly, he agreed: “Right, right, right…”
Zhao Xing shot a disdainful look at Luo Mingshan: “Now I get it. You’re just not cut out for martial arts. I’ve been teaching you all this time, and you still can’t learn… With your crappy skills, you actually thought you could kill someone? What a joke.”
Luo Mingshan: “Brother Zhao…”
Zhao Xing: “Alright, get up. Stop whining and crying, it’s annoying.”
Just then, a crackling electric sound suddenly filled the classroom.
No sooner had it begun than a round device above their heads issued a sound: “Zzzt… zzzt… Riot detected… zzzt… Initiating emergency measures.”
Zhao Xing’s expression changed. “Damn it!”
He hurriedly covered Luo Mingshan’s mouth and nose as thick smoke began to pour from the circular device.
This was a mandatory device installed in every classroom, factory, and dormitory in District K13. It detected conditions in the room, and when a riot involving ten or more people broke out, it emitted dense fog that would indiscriminately knock out everyone present.
This kind of tranquilizer didn’t work on Zhao Xing, but Zhou Ming next to him and the groaning thugs on the floor had all passed out instantly.
Zhao Xing cursed under his breath.
Damn it. This was like a ghost story.
This building had been abandoned for more than ten years. The electricity was cut. How the hell was this thing still working?
He knew that once these emergency measures kicked in, besides releasing the fog, they would also alert the prison guards.
Zhao Xing needed to get out fast.
He hoisted the limp Zhou Ming onto his back and turned to look at Luo Mingshan: “Can you still walk?”
Luo Mingshan glanced at Zhou Ming on Zhao Xing’s back and was silent for two seconds.
Then he looked at Zhao Xing, his whole body exuding weakness and vulnerability: “I don’t think so, Brother Zhao… I breathed in some of the fog too. I don’t have any strength in my legs.”
Zhao Xing frowned, first dropping Zhou Ming to the ground.
What now? There was no way he could carry two people by himself.
And carrying one at a time wasn’t safe—who knew when the guards would show up.
Frowning in thought, Zhao Xing suddenly noticed the old but sturdy rug by the door.
Three minutes later, Zhao Xing carried Luo Mingshan on his back, a rope tied around his waist, with the other end dragging Zhou Ming, who was strapped to the rug. They hurriedly fled from the Seventh Academy.
Only after leaving the Seventh Academy did Zhao Xing breathe a sigh of relief and remember an important question.
“By the way, those morons were trying to kidnap you, right? Did you run into anything strange this morning?”
Luo Mingshan had gone to the academy that morning; Zhao Xing hadn’t.
Luo Mingshan thought for a moment. It seemed he had.
Frowning, he said, “This morning, I was the last to leave the classroom, but when I tried to go out, the door wouldn’t open. I thought the lock was broken, so I smashed the door open and left.”
Zhao Xing: “…”
Zhao Xing understood now. So that group had thought Luo Mingshan was trapped in the classroom like a turtle in a jar, and they’d happily gone to slip a note into Zhou Ming’s locker, not expecting Luo Mingshan to easily break out without even giving it a second thought.
Zhao Xing chuckled softly: “Looks like our little Luo Luo might not be good at fighting, but he sure has enough strength.”
Zhao Xing’s laugh was nice to hear.
Luo Mingshan really liked it.
It was very late now. The sun lamps in Sun Plaza had all gone out, leaving only star-shaped night lights casting a dim glow on the dim ground-level paths.
Luo Mingshan lay on Zhao Xing’s back, his head resting on Zhao Xing’s shoulder, feeling so happy.
Happy because Zhao Xing, to comfort him, had lied and claimed the murder as his own.
Happy because Zhao Xing was carrying him on his back while dragging Zhou Ming on the ground.
Happy because tonight’s night lights were pretty, and the road was so quiet.
The corners of his lips curved up. The warm breath from his soft laugh brushed against Zhao Xing’s ear, making it tingle.
Zhao Xing couldn’t scratch his ear while carrying Luo Mingshan, so he tilted his head instead, rubbing his ear against Luo Mingshan’s slightly cold cheek. Idly, he asked, “What are you laughing at?”
But three or four seconds passed, and Luo Mingshan didn’t answer.
Perplexed, Zhao Xing turned his face to the side—and saw Luo Mingshan’s ears, bright red at the tips.
Zhao Xing: “What’s wrong with you? Gone stupid?”
But Luo Mingshan didn’t respond.
He just turned his head and slowly, ever so slowly, gently brushed the tip of his nose against Zhao Xing’s ear.
“…Brother Ah Xing, I really like this.”
His laughing voice sounded right by his ear.
And with the laughter came another light brush of his nose.
The cool tip of his nose softly grazed Zhao Xing’s cheek.
Like a feather, drifting lightly onto his heart.