The Dawn Knight descended from the sky, landing directly in front of an armored cash-transport truck speeding down Manhattan's Ninth Avenue. The driver saw the figure ahead and didn't slow down or brake. Instead, he stepped harder on the accelerator—using his own unique method to express his firm determination: he was not stopping.
That very determination was exactly what had police cars behind him chasing like mad dogs. And if the officers finally caught him, it definitely wasn't going to be as simple as issuing a traffic ticket.
Facing such a stubborn driver, the Dawn Knight—model citizen that he was—could only demonstrate through concrete action the importance of obeying traffic laws and not robbing banks.
The moment the truck was about to hit him, he extended a single hand and pressed it onto the hood. As if someone had hit pause on reality, the armored truck—barreling ahead at fifty miles an hour—came to an abrupt stop. The wheels kept spinning furiously, screeching against the asphalt and spewing thick smoke, but the vehicle could not move forward another inch.
A balding driver poked his head out of the right window, holding a ** pointed straight at the man blocking his path—but he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. It was obvious the poor guy was incredibly conflicted.
Zhou Yi noticed that conflicted expression and couldn't help but grin. With his free left hand, he shaped his fingers like a gun and pointed at the truck's side mirror, making a shooting gesture.
An invisible force field instantly slammed into the mirror. Glass, plastic, metal—all twisted and crumbled under the pressure, compressing into a baseball-sized lump of solid waste.
Seeing this, the driver holding the gun went even paler. He swallowed hard—a completely ineffective attempt to calm himself. Especially when the Dawn Knight's "death finger" slowly pointed toward him.
Fortunately for him, the Dawn Knight didn't intend to use him for target practice. Zhou Yi simply pointed at the ** in the driver's hand and gave a small shake of his finger.
The balding driver immediately understood, nodding quickly before tossing the weapon aside. By then, the officers who'd chased him across more than two blocks finally caught up. They took one look at the Dawn Knight who had stopped a truck with one hand, then excitedly swarmed the passenger side door.
The balding driver looked downright relieved. After all, dealing with cops was much better than dealing with a superhero—at least if he got roughed up, he wouldn't risk getting beaten to death. Like the famously ruthless Punisher, known for leaving bodies in his wake.
The balding driver raised his hands obediently, was cuffed, and shoved into a patrol car. Meanwhile, one of the officers approached Zhou Yi.
"Thank you, Dawn Knight. We chased this guy for several blocks," said a rather burly officer with a warm smile. He extended his hand. "My son is a huge fan of yours. Could I get a signature? If he knows I got your autograph for him, he'll be over the moon."
"Of course." Zhou Yi shook his hand and accepted the notebook. "May I ask your name?"
"My name's Andrew, and my son's Billy—he just turned nine. He loves you. Especially that scene where you held up the school bus. He even made me get him a poster to hang on the wall."
As Andrew rambled on, Zhou Yi wrote in the notebook:"For Billy! You have a father who loves you."He signed: Dawn Knight, then used super-speed to draw a sun emblem beside it.
"Thanks, man. My kid's going to lose his mind when he sees this." Andrew beamed so broadly it nearly reached his ears.
"Well then, Andrew… can you help me with something?"
"Of course. It'd be an honor," Andrew straightened his cap seriously.
"I need you to check if anything strange has happened recently. I mean the kind of cases you usually overlook—drug dealers, pimps…"
"Oh, I get what you mean. Let me think…" Andrew frowned thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, someone did say the Red Light District's gotten much safer lately. The pimps have stopped causing trouble."
He suddenly perked up. "Hey, buddy—does that mean something big is about to go down? Do you need our help?"
Zhou Yi shook his head, took a few steps back, and began to float upward.
"Andrew, this is dangerous. If you can, warn your colleagues. Be careful of the things hiding in the shadows—and don't go wandering into dark places. Especially at night."
"What? Are we talking about a serial killer? Or some extremist terrorists?" Andrew asked, confused. He thought the Dawn Knight was joking.
"Trust me. It's worse than that."Leaving those words behind, Zhou Yi shot into the sky and vanished into the night. He still needed to check the Red Light District and Fifth Avenue for any suspicious signs.
Andrew, meanwhile, raised a hand to his forehead like a lookout, watching the Dawn Knight disappear. Clearly, he was still puzzling over that cryptic warning.
After a moment, still clueless, Andrew scratched the back of his head and turned on the radio on his shoulder.
"Guys, it's Andrew. Anyone patrolling the Red Light District tonight? Tell them to watch themselves—don't go wandering somewhere weird."
"What do you mean where did I hear this? I just talked to the Dawn Knight. He told me. Seems like something big is coming…"
"After shift, let's grab drinks at Old Allen's bar. I'll explain over a beer. What a night this is."
While Andrew enjoyed the simple happiness of an ordinary man, Zhou Yi continued fulfilling the duties of a superhero.
What had originally been a game, a bit of psychological fun, had now become real work: helping the weak, saving lives. The transition wasn't nearly as difficult as he once imagined. When you have extraordinary powers, you instinctively want to do something with them. Whether that something is good or evil comes down to a single choice.
For Zhou Yi, being a superhero—helping others, hearing the cheers that greeted his name, feeling proud of his good deeds—was not hard to accept. Quite the opposite: it was exactly what fueled him to tirelessly play the Dawn Knight.
He liked the feeling. Admiration. Praise. Hero worship. And even if these came with responsibility, he believed it was worth it. He was born to shine like the sun—respected and revered.
He soared across the dark night sky, searching again and again for suspicious signs. But things weren't as optimistic as he hoped.
He found traces—blood, signs of struggle—but no survivors. And no attackers.
Clearly, the mutated vampire species had taken their victims with them. Or perhaps the victims had followed them. Either way, it was bad news.
This meant the mutant vampire Chadnomar possessed the ability to command other mutant vampires—telling them when to leave, where to take bodies. Their actions were organized, not some mindless spreading.
They were hiding like ordinary people, blending into the darkness so well that even super-vision struggled to pick them out.
Watching the sky turn pale with dawn, Zhou Yi abandoned the search. Perhaps it was time to speak with Blade and the vampires to see what they knew. Decision made, Zhou Yi flew toward the waters off Long Island to rest a bit before the coming events.
Time always moved unnaturally fast on the eve of major events. The sun seemed to rise only to rush back toward the horizon. As
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