Tòumíng noticed the guy on the far end of the observation room was armed, a handgun visible in a shoulder holster under his jacket. Security personnel, probably stationed here to monitor interrogations.
With his leg and collarbone both broken, Tòumíng had limited options. He couldn't fight multiple people. Couldn't run. Could barely stand.
Which left only one strategy.
"RANDOM BULLSHIT, GO!"
His hand grabbed the nearest object on the observation desk, a checkbook, of all things, probably used for recording payments or expenses related to Black Hawk operations.
He hurled it at the armed guard's head with his good arm.
The checkbook spun through the air and connected directly with the guy's face.
"WHAT THE FUCK? OWW!" The guard clutched his face, more surprised than injured, but distracted for a crucial second.
Tòumíng launched himself forward in a one-legged dive, his broken leg dragging behind him uselessly. He grabbed the guard's leg and pulled, dropping the man to the ground with a heavy thud.
Before the guard could recover, Tòumíng's hand shot to the holster and yanked the handgun free.
He rolled onto his back and pointed the weapon at the five other unarmed personnel in the observation room—technicians, monitors, whoever Black Hawk had assigned to watch interrogations.
"GET THE FUCK OUT!" His voice was raw, desperate, the gun shaking slightly in his hand but the threat clear.
The five unarmed people backed up slowly, hands raised, eyes wide. They weren't soldiers. Weren't trained fighters. Just support staff who absolutely did not get paid enough to deal with armed prisoners.
They fled through the door, leaving Tòumíng alone with the disarmed guard who was still on the floor, nursing his face.
Then footsteps. Calm. Measured.
Nergui walked through the square-meter hole in the wall that Tòumíng had created, his blank eyes somehow tracking exactly where the opening was despite having no visual input.
He started clapping. Slow, deliberate applause.
"Remarkable," Nergui said, his voice carrying genuine admiration. "You found a structural flaw in the wall, probably water damage or foundation settling, that allowed you to break through with minimal force. Or perhaps you made a paper-thin cut earlier when I wasn't paying attention, creating a weakness you could exploit. Either way, very clever tactical thinking."
Tòumíng felt relief flood through him. Nergui didn't know about Stone Crusher. Didn't understand the supernatural aspect. Was trying to rationalize what he'd witnessed through normal logic.
Which meant Tòumíng could absolutely abuse this.
Cupid's voice cut in. "Cooldown is over in about ten more seconds. You can use Stone Crusher again soon."
Ten seconds. Tòumíng needed to stall.
"A magician never reveals his secrets," he said, trying to sound mysterious and confident despite the excruciating pain from his broken bones.
Nergui tilted his head, his expression shifting to something more calculating. "Are you friends with the Xuān Láng fellow currently being interrogated in the next room?"
"Maybe."
Nergui's smile returned, colder this time, sharper. "An evasive answer. I do not like evasive answers. But I must admit, your defiance is quite admirable. To risk your life for someone else, to push through injuries that would incapacitate most people, to maintain this level of tenacity..."
He paused for comedic timing.
"I can see why you're so persistent... IF I COULD SEE! AHAHAHAHA!"
He laughed at his own joke, genuine laughter, like he'd just delivered the funniest punchline in history.
Tòumíng grinned despite everything and flipped him off with his free hand. "Your jokes fucking suck."
Then Stone Crusher's cooldown ended.
Tòumíng pressed his hand against the wall separating the observation room from the interrogation room and activated the skill.
Another perfect cubic-meter section of wall disintegrated into manageable chunks.
He threw himself through the opening, his broken leg screaming in protest, and landed on the interrogation room floor.
Xuān Láng was still cuffed to the metal table, his eyes going wide as he saw Tòumíng come tumbling through a hole in the wall.
"What the—TÒUMÍNG?!"
Tòumíng raised the gun and fired at the metal bracket securing Xuān Láng's handcuffs to the table.
BANG.
The bullet struck true, shattering the bracket and freeing Xuān Láng's hands, though the cuffs themselves remained locked around his wrists.
"Come on!" Tòumíng yelled. "We're getting out of—"
He started to turn, to aim the gun at Nergui who was surely coming through the hole behind him—
Nergui moved faster.
His elbow struck Tòumíng's gun arm with devastating precision, hitting the joint at exactly the right angle to dislocate it. The gun fell from Tòumíng's nerveless fingers.
Before Tòumíng could react, Nergui scooped up the weapon with fluid grace and wrapped one hand around Tòumíng's throat, lifting him slightly, applying just enough pressure to restrict airflow without crushing the windpipe.
The gun pressed against Tòumíng's forehead—cold metal, the barrel still warm from the recent shot.
Nergui's blank eyes stared into Tòumíng's, somehow communicating absolute conviction despite having no visible pupils.
"I think," Nergui said softly, almost gently, "it's time we say goodbye."
His finger moved to the trigger