Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Ji Ting was twirling a small knife in his hand, grinning as he talked with the others. The moment the door opened, his smile vanished. The boy who opened the door was the one who had left with his mother that morning.

The boy was clearly injured, leaning against the doorframe and gasping for breath. "The... the people from West Street took Auntie Ji. They told me if we want her back, we have to go to West Street and find their boss."

Ji Ting shot to his feet, ready to rush out, but Chris stopped him. "Don't rush, Ji Ting."

Ji Ting took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Big brother, tell me what to do. I'll do it."

Chris stood up. "We'll go to West Street. Ensuring Auntie Ji's safety is the priority. We don't need many people. Most problems can be solved with the right deal."

His gaze swept over the people in the room—they were all his companions, most of them young. Finally, his eyes settled on Katia. Katia stepped forward of his own accord and followed.

When Chris and his group arrived at West Street, they sensed something was wrong. It was already evening. Normally, West Street would be bustling with people at this hour, the shops on both sides lit up and lively, with pretty men and women standing at their doors. But today was unlike before, unnervingly quiet.

The largest entertainment venue on West Street was the turf of the West Street manager.

Guarding the entrance were unfamiliar faces—not the casually dressed street punks of West Street, but men in identical black clothing. Chris noticed their firearms were all of the same model.

They didn't even ask Chris and his group to disarm, which was very unlike the cautious West Street manager.

Chris and his people entered the main gate and were led to an office at the end of a corridor.

As soon as the door opened, they saw a young man in a suit sitting behind the central desk. He looked out of place here.

Chris didn't recognize him. This wasn't the West Street manager. The real West Street manager was standing behind him, head bowed deferentially.

The young man stood up and held out his hand. "I am Sergei."

Chris hadn't used this common courtesy in a long time.

After the greeting, Sergei got straight to the point. "I heard you have an S-class powerhouse."

He looked up. "I'd like to make a deal with you. Don't worry, it's just a temporary borrow. You won't lose out."

Chris kept his face neutral. "We can talk about a deal, but I'd like to confirm the safety of our member's mother first."

Sergei glanced at the person standing beside him. The West Street manager bent slightly and explained, "We couldn't find their base before. To draw them out, we used a little... persuasion. I told them not to cross any lines."

Chris pulled back Ji Ting, who was trying to step forward. "I understand that, and I'm very willing to discuss the deal first, but please understand how anxious our guy is."

"For the sake of our deal."

Sergei thought for a few seconds. "Bring her here first."

Chris tightened his grip on Ji Ting, smiling. "I wonder if we could accompany you? I believe both sides are approaching this cooperation with sincerity."

Sergei was also straightforward. S-class individuals were rare in the Drift Star Sector. The occasional few usually emigrated quickly through the simulated leagues on the StarNet.

Every S-class was a significant resource, especially under the current special circumstances.

He stood up and tilted his head. "Let's go. The hovercar is parked outside."

As Chris walked out, he was already thinking. Not just anyone here could afford to use a hovercar.

...

Meanwhile.

Ye Mo finally stopped on the roof of a factory building. He crouched down, pressing his ear close to the wall.

Footsteps and arguing voices mingled together, creating a chaotic noise. Amidst these sounds, he picked out "Mom's" voice. It was still as gentle as ever, calling for Little Qing.

He quickly stood up, grabbed the wall, and swung lightly, entering through a high window of the factory. He descended the stairs and stopped on the second floor.

The second floor had a railing around it, many parts already damaged and exposed. Fortunately, the light inside the factory was dim. Ye Mo pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, covering most of his skin. Moving on all fours, he crawled along the floor like a spider, slowly approaching the railing.

Once Ye Mo reached a position where he could see the scene on the first floor clearly, he stopped.

He didn't move, only his eyes shifted. After memorizing the layout, his gaze quickly returned, locking onto the target.

The area below was spacious. There were three adult men and one younger, shorter individual. "Mom" was holding his arm, chattering about something. "...Little Qing, have you not been eating properly outside...?"

The person she was holding pulled away from her, answering impatiently, "Yeah, it's all your fault. Stay away from me."

"Mom" froze for a moment, then fell silent. But she still refused to go far. Perhaps because she hadn't tried to escape, she wasn't bound or restrained.

Ye Mo blinked, his fingers unconsciously curling and extending into a claw-like shape. His psychic energy quietly coiled around his fingertips.

He didn't need to think. A cat never needs to learn how to use its claws.

The people below seemed to have been arguing before Ye Mo arrived. One of them, holding a gun, was agitated. Two others were blocking his way. "Calm down. The boss only told us to hide her, not to do anything extra."

He grabbed one of them by the collar. "That bastard surnamed Ji killed my brother, my flesh and blood! And you're telling me to calm down? I want him to taste the same feeling. Even if the boss were here, he'd understand me."

The main door outside creaked, followed by footsteps. Ji Ting was at the front, rushing in so fast he was almost running. Behind him were Katia and Chris.

Last came the young man, followed by the West Street manager and his subordinates.

Everyone inside heard the noise. The others instinctively turned to look, their guard momentarily dropping.

Ye Mo leaped over the railing.

The man raised his gun.

Ji Ting, who had just entered, felt his pupils constrict sharply.

Ye Mo adjusted his direction mid-air, pouncing toward the man like a cat.

A gunshot rang out.

Ye Mo's figure passed the man. He landed lightly on the ground, his back to the man, still barefoot. The hood of his sweatshirt slipped from his head and fell behind him.

He straightened up.

Behind him, the man slowly collapsed with a dull thud. A large hole had been torn in his chest. Ye Mo had pierced his vital point almost instantly. The man had already pulled the trigger, but the bullet missed its target and struck the ground.

Ye Mo stared at his own hand. It was dripping with blood, the red liquid flowing down his arm. The sensation still lingered on his fingertips.

He himself seemed surprised by the outcome.

But soon, he stopped dwelling on it. He didn't understand what it meant.

In that moment, the only thought that had crossed Ye Mo's mind was that his hand was dirty. With more practice, he could have done it cleaner.

The factory fell into silence. Ye Mo paid no attention to the group at the main door.

He turned and looked toward "Mom."

The other three closest individuals snapped out of it, instinctively recoiling from Ye Mo. Blood had spattered onto the side of his face.

"Mom" was holding onto the short young man, looking at Ye Mo with a look of pure fear he had never seen before.

Ye Mo took a step toward "Mom." "Mom..."

But he soon stopped. His "mom" pulled the young man back a step.

Ye Mo had already lowered his hand, blood still dripping from his fingers. He tilted his head slightly, his voice tinged with confusion. "Mom?"

"Mom" kept backing away, pulling the young man and shielding him behind her. She pleaded with Ye Mo, "Don't come any closer. Don't you hurt my Little Qing!"

The young man hid behind her, nodding frantically. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Ye Mo obediently stayed where he was, still puzzled. He pressed his right hand against his chest, sounding both confused and hurt. "Little Qing... is here."

Fragments of memory flashed through his mind—a woman holding him, saying gently, "Don't cry, our Little Mo, don't cry."

Ye Mo didn't know who that was, but the tightness in his chest suddenly eased. He slowly let go of his hand.

The group by the door finally caught on. Ji Ting was the first to run over. He gave Ye Mo a complicated look but didn't stop, heading straight to Auntie Ji. "Mom, come on, let's go."

Instead, Auntie Ji seized his hand. "Take Little Qing, we have to get home now!"

Ji Ting scratched his head irritably but had to go along with her. "Alright, alright, we'll take Little Qing home."

Chris and Katia followed closely behind, stopping not far from Ji Ting, putting themselves between Ye Mo and Auntie Ji.

Then came the others. They edged closer, and only when they were sure Ye Mo wasn't moving did they relax and come near.

Sergei stood beside Chris. He glanced back at Ye Mo, his interest clearly piqued. "One of yours?"

He then looked at Ji Ting, connecting it to Ye Mo's earlier address. "His brother?"

Chris remained calm. Being noticed by someone like Sergei was not a good thing. "The boy's... high-strung. Our apologies."

Sergei curled his lips slightly, not dwelling on what had just happened. "He's impressive. What's his psychic level?"

"He's still in the developmental stage for psychic abilities. We haven't tested him yet, planning to wait until he's an adult. You know how expensive the testing equipment is."

Sergei suddenly turned to look at Ye Mo. "Is that so? Little one, come here."

Chris and the others tensed up but had no choice but to turn and look at Ye Mo.

Ye Mo wasn't wearing shoes; he was still barefoot. He instinctively looked toward "Mom"—she had told him to stay where he was.