"How many floors left?"
He was gradually losing patience; he had to wipe out this group of people before dawn broke, when Lam Thanh Moc and Thuong An woke up.
Floor 95.
At this place, a squad of elite special forces was forming a line at the elevator doors when they saw the floor beneath their feet explode in horror. Thuong Sinh surged up from underground like a god of death from hell. He did not stop for greetings. The Marsh-Blood Sword spun around his body, creating a cyclone of purple-black blade-force.
Flash— Flash— Puk!
Anything in his path, whether high-tech armor, energy shields, or the bodies of ability users, was crushed into fragments. Thuong Sinh glided through Floor 95 in less than ten seconds, leaving a corridor full of mangled corpses, then lunged upward on his flying sword to the next level.
Thuong Sinh pierced through the final floor, soaring straight onto the tower's rooftop where the wind howled and the cold air of the cloud layer enveloped everything. On the skyscraper's rooftop at this moment, the moonlight had almost completely faded; the sun was about to appear. The dazzling floodlights from two rumbling Neos helicopters were blinding. The sound of rotor blades tearing the wind created chaotic gales.
"Hurry! Take the core hard drives! Fast!" A middle-aged male in a luxury suit, his face tense, shouted while pushing guards to climb onto the helicopter. "Faster! Dammit, he's coming up here!" An old man in a red velvet suit, hands covered in diamond rings, screamed tremblingly at the pilot.
Thuong Sinh surged up from the deep black hole in the middle of the rooftop floor; his figure stood upon the black sword hovering in the air before descending onto the rooftop surface.
The entire high-level council and the Chairman immediately lost face, frantically rushing toward the helicopters. As the first helicopter began to move upward, a pitch-black sword moved at extreme speed and slammed into that helicopter's rotor blades.
Crack! Crack! Boom!
The sound of shattering metal rang out piercingly as the Marsh-Blood Sword pierced through the helicopter's main rotor shaft. The giant aircraft, having just lifted off the floor, completely lost its balance; the rotor blades flew off like sharp meteorite fragments, embedding all over the floor and crushing the ill-fated bodyguards standing nearby.
The helicopter exploded in a brilliant red fireball, tossing the people inside outward. Those who feared death and went first truly died first; they were no different from smoked rats.
The Chairman stood frozen before the flaming fireball, the heat radiating onto his face which was pale with terror. Looking at the charred corpses of other council members scattered on the floor, he knew that all efforts to flee now were meaningless. He dropped the data briefcase, raising two trembling hands, trying to regain a last bit of calm; he looked at Thuong Sinh standing before him, into those deep black-purple eyes.
"Stop!" "Why are you doing this? Who is the one behind hiring you? Is it the Southern rebels?"
The Marsh-Blood Sword, after destroying the helicopter, flew back, hovering right beside Thuong Sinh. He did not answer the middle-aged man's question, only quietly scanned the surroundings. The remaining people, every single one wore luxury items, as if the apocalypse had never appeared.
Thuong Sinh scanned the faces pale with terror. Tailor-made suits, watches encrusted with gemstones glittering under the dawn light, and meticulously cared-for skin. To these people, the apocalypse was merely a concept residing outside the reinforced glass of the White Tower, a place for them to harvest resources and "specimens."
His gaze stopped on a fat man trying to sneakily crawl toward the wreckage of the exploded helicopter. Without a redundant movement, the Marsh-Blood Sword vibrated slightly.
Flash
A streak of black light glided past; the fat man froze, then collapsed with a thin bloodline behind his neck. The remaining people could only scream aloud; some knelt, some even wet their pants.
"You... you are a demon!" the Chairman roared, eyes bloodshot with resentment and desperation. "Answer me! What do you want? I have billions of credits in anonymous accounts! I can back you to have control over this entire Iron City!"
Thuong Sinh stepped toward that Chairman, then stopped at a close enough distance to look at the man before him. He looked at the man, his purple-black eyes containing no hatred or rage, but only an ultimate emptiness.
"You touched a place you should not have touched."
He had no need to explain so much to a dying man. The sword in his hand swung, a streak of black blade-force wiping out the crowd behind the Chairman. Those who just moments ago stood upon the Peak of Power were now merely corpses severed in half. Crimson blood sprayed out, but before touching the floor, it was corroded by the toxic internal force, transforming into a foul black smoke.
The Chairman was the only one remaining. He collapsed amidst the ashes of his associates, eyes wide; he opened his mouth to say something, but Thuong Sinh's blade swung once more, cutting across his throat.
"Don't—" Slash
Thuong Sinh did not let him utter another word; the decisive strike tore through the throat of the man before him. The Chairman's corpse slumped, and the briefcase in his hand also fell. He stood silent amidst the windswept rooftop, looking down at Iron City as the neon lights began to turn off; as the day began to brighten, the entire Neos lair had been wiped clean in one night.
Thuong Sinh lunged and jumped from the tower peak, his figure like a ghost gliding through the air, disappearing into the early mist as the sun was emerging.
Over ten minutes later, at the small house in the deadly forest.
Thuong Sinh already stood before the wooden door; the shocking killing intent from earlier and the stench of blood had been completely washed away by him. His gaze retracted its coldness, and within the purple-black eyes returned the appearance of a somber young man.
Click.
The sound of the wooden door opening gently. Lam Thanh Moc had also just awakened; she was carrying a pot of fruit soup to place on the table. Seeing him enter, she smiled, her eyes gentle: "You're back?"
Thuong Sinh nodded lightly. "Mm."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The small wooden house was as quiet as before; the smell of damp wood mixed with the scent of cooked fruit, entirely different from the smell of blood earlier. Lam Thanh Moc set the soup pot on the wooden table, turning to get two more bowls; she did not ask where he went, nor did she have any curiosity; she understood there were matters he would not speak of even if asked.
"I just cooked something simple," she said, her voice very light. "The wild berries you picked the other day are almost finished; I'll go out and pick more in a bit." "Let me, you take care of the boy." "Um, alright then."
Thuong Sinh sat on the wooden chair, watching her ladle the soup. The rising heat blurred his vision slightly, but it was that very heat that caused his chest to slowly settle. Lam Thanh Moc placed the bowl before him, then sat opposite. She held a spoon but did not eat immediately, only glancing at him—her gaze stopping briefly then moving away again.
"Last night... did you not rest?" she asked, as if casually. "I did," Thuong Sinh replied calmly. "A little."
She nodded and asked no more. The wooden spoon lightly touched the wooden bowl Thuong Sinh had made, emitting a very small sound. The two ate in silence. Outside the window, the early morning sunlight filtered through the dry tree trunks, shining on the wooden tabletop. The sounds of early morning birds, and the sound of wind whistling through the rustling leaves.
A moment later, a very small sound came from the room. Lam Thanh Moc reacted instinctively, turning her head to look inside. But Thuong Sinh was one step faster than her, walking to the door of their room, pushing it open and entering; a moment later he carried Thuong An out. The boy giggled heartily as he was lifted high.
"Ah... ah..."
The vague yet vibrant sound echoed in the quiet wooden house. Thuong Sinh held him firmly, his movements very slow, very careful.
"Oh, awake already," Lam Thanh Moc said softly, the corners of her mouth curving up. She stood up and walked over, lightly touching Thuong An's cheek. The boy's skin was warm and soft; his eyes were not yet fully open, only vaguely following the light.
Thuong An let out another "ah," as if in response. Lam Thanh Moc chuckled softly—the laughter very light, for fear of startling the boy.
The days following passed very slowly, and very peacefully.
In the morning, before the mist had fully dispelled, Lam Thanh Moc woke up first. She went out to pick wild berries, sometimes bringing back a few more types of young leaves that could be cooked in soup. Thuong Sinh repaired the roof, reinforced rotted wooden spots, and set a few more simple traps around the edge of the deadly forest. Sometimes he went a bit further, but never more than half a day. Upon returning, his clothes were always clean; the sword remained still, and the bandages on the blade were never seen removed again.
Thuong An grew bit by bit. The boy slept much; when awake, he only knew how to smile, emitting vague "ah... ah..." sounds. Every time he was held, his hand would unconsciously grasp the adult's clothes or finger.
At noon, the three sat in the wooden house to avoid the sun. Lam Thanh Moc cooked; Thuong Sinh was by her side helping with small chores. No one said much, but there was no longer the heavy silence of before. Occasionally she told of small events in the day; he listened, only saying "mm," but not missing a single word.
As evening fell, the sunlight pierced through the dry forest, shining in long streaks across the ground. Lam Thanh Moc dried herbs; Thuong Sinh checked his weapons. Thuong An lay in the small wooden cradle, eyes wide watching the flickering shadows on the ceiling.
At night, the wooden house was lit early. Outside, the world was still in ruins, still had blood and distant screams, but not here. Only the sound of the fire burning, the wind whistling through the leaf gaps, and occasionally a soft "ah..." sound echoing in the middle of the night.
Those days repeated.