The afternoon internship dragged on forever. Lin Mo's mind was stuck on the conversation between those two men in the bathroom. The faint tingle of clairaudience still lingered at his fingertips, but he had zero interest in the chitchat around him. He gripped his pen, his eyes drifting to the window every now and then, replaying his plan to check out the abandoned warehouse in the suburbs that night over and over. The place was desolate, no one around for miles, and the other guys had backup. With just clairaudience—only good for hearing things—he'd be defenceless if things went south.
Finally, it was time to clock out. Instead of squeezing into the subway like usual, Lin Mo detoured to the suburban bus stop. He'd checked earlier: the abandoned warehouse was deep in the old industrial district, long forgotten, with only a few half-collapsed factories nearby. No streetlights at night, perfect for hiding something shady. The bus jolted along, and Lin Mo leaned against the window, a mix of nervousness and stubbornness in his chest. No matter what was inside that warehouse, he had to take a look. He couldn't just stand by and let those guys get away with it.
By the time he reached the old industrial district, it was pitch black. The evening wind kicked up dust, making the windows of the run-down factories rattle. Occasional dog barks echoed in the distance, making the place feel even more eerie and empty. Lin Mo pulled his jacket hood lower, hunched over, and crept toward the warehouse along the wall, trying to use his clairaudience to pick up any sounds. He was still a hundred meters away when he heard the commotion inside: messy footsteps, talking, and the creak of boxes being dragged across the floor—clear as day.
"Hurry up! The boss said we gotta finish loading tonight and hit the road at midnight!" A hoarse voice yelled, sharp with impatience.
"I know, I know! You think this box is light? How fast do you want me to go?" Another voice complained, panting a little. "Seriously, the boss is being way too paranoid. Who's gonna come out to this dump?"
"Cut the crap and work! Better safe than sorry—if something goes wrong, we're all dead meat!"
Lin Mo held his breath and snuck over to a broken window, squinting inside. A few temporarily strung-up light bulbs cast dim, flickering light over the warehouse. A dozen men in black coats were hauling boxes, stacking them high, all covered with black tarps—no way to tell what was inside. In the corner, two guys leaned against the boxes smoking, bulges at their waists hinting at knives. Sure enough, these guys were ready for trouble.
Lin Mo frowned, stuck. Clairaudience let him hear, but he couldn't fight off a dozen guys, especially with them packing weapons. He clenched his fists, silently praying: Please let today's ability be something useful for fighting. Just then, a familiar warm current surged from his dantian, stronger than the last two times, rushing through his veins to his limbs. Suddenly, his whole body felt light as a feather, like he was walking on air, even his breath coming easier.
Lin Mo froze for a second, then realized—his new ability had unlocked right when he needed it! He lifted his foot gently, and his body floated up. A quick step, and he glided several meters silently, like a gust of wind. "Wind Speed Transformation?" He grinned. This ability was perfect for right now.
He steadied himself, using the wind's lightness to sneak around to the back door. It was ajar, a small gap letting in more sound. He took a deep breath, and while the guys inside were busy loading, not paying attention, he darted in like a breeze, ducking into a corner piled with junk, hunching down to stay out of sight.
Boxes filled the warehouse, stacked so tight he could barely move between them. Lin Mo lifted the corner of a tarp with his finger, using the dim bulb light to peek inside. His heart dropped—bundles of controlled knives, and white powder in clear plastic bags, glinting faintly. Definitely illegal stuff, and a lot of it. If this got out on the street, who knew how many people it would hurt?
Lin Mo forced down his shock and snuck back to his corner, his mind racing. Too many guys, too many weapons—fighting head-on was suicide. He had to buy time, wait for the police. Using his Wind Speed Transformation, he glided silently between the boxes, sizing up the warehouse: a thick iron pipe in the middle, a few empty oil barrels nearby, a truck parked at the door. The dozen or so guys were still loading, and the two smoking bodyguards glanced around occasionally, not paying much attention.
"Almost done! Just one more box, then we're out of here!" A burly guy wiped sweat from his face, heaving the last box onto the truck. The hoarse voice called out again: "Stay sharp! No mistakes! If this shipment goes south, we're all finished!"
Lin Mo knew he couldn't wait anymore. He took a deep breath, darting to the iron pipe in the middle of the warehouse with the wind's speed. He grabbed it and pulled hard—"clang!" The noise echoed through the quiet warehouse, sharp and loud. Everyone froze, dropping their work to stare at the sound.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" The leader shouted, his hand flying to the knife at his waist. The two bodyguards stood up straight, scanning every corner with sharp eyes. Lin Mo ducked behind another pile of junk, holding his breath, quickly thinking of his next move.
"Probably just a rat," one guy muttered, stepping forward to check. Lin Mo acted fast, gliding to the oil barrels with the wind, tapping one lightly with his toe. The empty barrel rolled away with a gurgle, crashing into the boxes and making a racket.
Now everyone panicked. "No, there's definitely someone here!" The leader's face turned dark, waving his men over. "Spread out and search! Find 'em, no matter what!" The dozen guys scattered, flashlights sweeping the warehouse, their footsteps chaotic.
With the wind's lightness and speed, Lin Mo weaved between the boxes, slipping past them like a ghost. He kept an eye on the truck—if it didn't leave, he still had a chance. Just then, he overheard the leader on the phone, his voice respectful but urgent: "Boss, there's someone in the warehouse. We're searching now, don't worry. We'll finish loading soon, nothing'll go wrong… Yeah, we'll hurry up!"
After hanging up, the leader looked even angrier, barking: "Search faster! Finish up, load the truck, and get out of here—don't keep the boss waiting!" Lin Mo knew he was running out of time. If they left, he'd never stop them. He gritted his teeth, deciding to take a risk.
As one guy turned around, Lin Mo darted to the truck, grabbing the door handle. Using the wind's strength, he pulled hard—"bang!" The door swung open, revealing the truck half-full of boxes. "He's by the truck!" A guy yelled, and everyone swarmed toward him.
The leader's face turned purple with rage. He pulled his knife, pointing it at Lin Mo. "You little bastard, ruining my business? I'll kill you today!" He swung the knife, but Lin Mo was ready. With the wind's speed, he dodged easily, grabbing the leader's wrist and twisting it gently—using the wind's force. The leader screamed, dropping the knife with a clang.
The other guys charged, throwing punches. Lin Mo moved like the wind, weaving through them, dodging every hit. Every now and then, he reached out, pushing gently with the wind's strength—sending them stumbling to the ground, unable to get up quickly.
He didn't hit hard; he just wanted to buy time, stop the shipment, not hurt anyone. But the guys kept coming, even picking up wooden sticks to swing at him. Lin Mo frowned, gliding behind one guy and tapping his leg lightly—sending him face-first into the floor, his stick flying away.
Then, in the distance, he heard police sirens—getting closer. Lin Mo exhaled in relief. Someone must've heard the noise and called the cops. When the leader heard the sirens, his face went pale. "Shit, the cops are here! Hurry, drive!"
The remaining guys scattered, scrambling for the truck to escape. Lin Mo darted in front of it, spreading his arms. "Not so fast!" His voice was firm, and with the wind's power, an invisible barrier seemed to wrap around him, blocking the truck completely.
The driver started the engine, slamming on the gas. The truck lurched forward, trying to hit Lin Mo—but just as it reached him, an invisible wind surged, stopping it in its tracks. The truck skidded, squealing, unable to move an inch. The driver turned white, jamming on the gas again, but the truck stayed put, like it was nailed to the ground.
Soon, the police arrived, their flashing lights lighting up the warehouse. They jumped out, handcuffs in hand, rushing inside. "Freeze! Squat down!" they shouted. The guys trembled, dropping to their knees with their hands on their heads, too scared to resist. The leader tried to run, but Lin Mo grabbed him with the wind's speed, handing him over to the cops.
The police checked the boxes, their faces turning serious when they saw the knives and drugs. They called the anti-drug team and other departments right away. One officer walked up to Lin Mo, patting his shoulder. "Thanks, kid. If it weren't for you, this contraband would've hit the streets. You're a hero."
Lin Mo smiled, shaking his head. "No problem, it's what anyone would do." He focused on suppressing his Wind Speed Transformation, the lightness fading, returning to his normal self. He didn't say much else, slipping out of the warehouse while the police were busy, vanishing into the night.
Walking out of the old industrial district, the wind still blowing, Lin Mo felt a huge weight lift off his chest. He looked at his hands, the faint tingle of Wind Speed Transformation still there—the feeling of gliding on wind, clear as ever. He realized then: whether it was Stone Body Transformation, Clairaudience, or Wind Speed Transformation, every ability was meant to protect others.
He pulled out his phone, about to call a taxi, when a black car pulled up beside him. The window rolled down, revealing a woman in sunglasses—the same woman in the black trench coat who'd been showing up lately. She looked at Lin Mo, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Wind Speed Transformation. Nice work. Looks like I didn't misjudge you."
Lin Mo tensed, taking a step back, staring at her warily. "Who are you? Why have you been following me?"
She smiled, not answering his question. "Relax, I mean no harm. I just want you to know—what you stopped today is just the tip of the iceberg for the 'Dark Pavilion'. You'll face more danger later, and you can't handle it alone." She held out a business card. "If you ever get stuck, call this number."
Lin Mo hesitated, then took it. The card only had a phone number—no name, no ID. He looked up to ask more, but the black car had already started, driving off into the night, gone in seconds. Lin Mo held the card, confusion swirling in his head. Who was this woman? What was the "Dark Pavilion"?
He had no idea a bigger crisis was creeping closer. And that business card in his hand would soon become a crucial clue in his fight against the Dark Pavilion.