Chapter Twelve: The Iron Maiden Weiwei

Su Yuan stared in the direction of Bai Weiwei, seeing clearly that the bullet had fallen from her palm.

Everyone present was stunned, finding it unbelievable.

The shooter in the distance cried out in shock and squeezed the trigger again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A look of astonishment appeared on Bai Weiwei’s face as well. She could hardly believe she had caught the bullet. Just now, she had reached out instinctively. Normally, she would never have thought of doing such a thing.

Her body moved, dodging the gunfire, and the special police behind her finally reacted, pulling out their firearms.

This was no joke—the captain had been targeted by a sniper. This was no longer a petty skirmish; it had escalated to murder.

Without hesitation, the special police fired into the bushes at the shooter.

The man didn’t even make a sound; his body was riddled with bullets, dying beyond any hope of revival.

The remaining two, seeing their comrade slain and glancing at Bai Weiwei, simultaneously plunged knives into their hearts and perished.

Bai Weiwei strode forward with a grim expression.

These two, realizing their efforts were futile, had chosen suicide; her face darkened with displeasure.

The special police searched the bodies, finding nothing. These people had anticipated every contingency, and those who could execute suicide without hesitation left no clues behind.

With the crisis resolved, Bai Weiwei turned her gaze to the man not far off wearing a monkey mask.

She had noticed him long ago.

He had been watching the battle, appearing curious, yet as if he disdained to join the fray. He showed no sign of fear.

Friend or foe?

Bai Weiwei was curious, yet troubled.

That monkey mask stared at them without restraint, making them feel blatantly provoked.

As Bai Weiwei hesitated, a tall man stepped forward.

“Captain, let me go and bring him over.”

He was the vice-captain of the unit, always observing Bai Weiwei. For the young and beautiful captain, he had long felt admiration.

Alas, the falling flower had feelings, but the running water was oblivious; Bai Weiwei was always absorbed in her work, never noticing someone might like her.

Eager to prove himself, the vice-captain volunteered.

Bai Weiwei saw someone step forward and was about to stop him.

Several others behind spoke up.

“Captain, that kid is too arrogant. Let me teach him a lesson.”

“Captain, let me go.”

“Let me do it.”

“Me.”

One after another, they scrambled to show off.

Bai Weiwei’s face grew darker.

This group seemed determined not to shed a tear until they saw the coffin.

She couldn’t be bothered with them; though if something happened, responsibility would fall first on her shoulders.

But there was no other way. The team members’ tempers were already at their peak. If they didn’t vent now, there would be trouble later.

Moreover, the man didn’t seem like a dangerous criminal.

She hoped her team would be safe.

Seeing Bai Weiwei remain silent, Bai Liang, the vice-captain, seemed to take it as tacit approval.

He strode forward.

“Hey kid, who let you in here?”

Shen An saw the tall man approaching. He stood up from his squatting posture.

After holding the pose for so long, his legs felt numb, so Shen An bounced a few times in place.

Then he tilted his head at the other, “And you are?”

“You’re courting death.”

He had been blatantly ignored, especially under Bai Weiwei’s gaze.

A cold, fierce expression appeared on Bai Liang’s face.

He suddenly rushed forward, moving swiftly. When he was within three meters of Shen An, he leapt into the air, spinning, and lashed his right leg at Shen An.

If struck, any ordinary person would likely be crippled.

Clearly, Bai Liang was truly angry.

Shen An shook his head and moved like lightning.

With a thud, Bai Liang was sent flying.

Three meters away, he crashed to the ground, unmoving, completely unconscious.

The others hurried to draw their guns.

Suddenly, Shen An stomped the ground, cracking the cement beneath his feet, and in a flash, he appeared among the crowd like a gust of wind.

Bang! Bang! Slap! Thud!

None of them had a chance to fire before they were all floored.

Shen An now moved so quickly, much faster than the mutated wolf from earlier.

Bai Weiwei launched a high kick at Shen An’s back.

Shen An turned, catching her foot with both hands.

Her face flushed red, and she kicked at him with her left foot. Shen An retreated and released her.

At the same time, Shen An stepped forward again, employing all the combat techniques he had honed against Bai Weiwei.

Her body moved instinctively, blocking his attacks.

She felt the power within her awakening; her arms were as hard as iron.

The sensation was strange and fascinating.

Just as Bai Weiwei was absorbed in this feeling, the man with the monkey mask suddenly unleashed his strength, a gust of force blasting Bai Weiwei back four or five steps before she stopped.

She steadied herself, no longer daring to advance.

He was powerful, and had been hiding his true abilities all along. Was that last move his real strength?

Bai Weiwei couldn’t help thinking.

She glanced at her hands.

She hadn’t had a chance to observe them before.

Looking now, she felt her hands were somehow different.

She rubbed them together, and sparks flew, as if they were two pieces of iron.

“You’re quite impressive,” the masked man said, his voice a bit hoarse.

“Hopefully this ability will be of some use to you.”

After speaking, he turned and disappeared from sight in a few strides.

Watching the masked man vanish, Bai Weiwei stood dazed.

“Was he helping me stabilize my powers just now?”

For a moment, Bai Weiwei found herself growing curious.

…

Shen An’s feet raced across the ground; after showing off, he felt elated.

This harvest was far greater than last time.

Looking at the sky, he saw the sun beginning to set.

He’d been absorbing energy all this time—he hadn’t realized so much time had passed. Even Shen An hadn’t expected it.

He retraced his steps.

Having absorbed a vast amount of primal oxygen, his abilities had advanced further.

Now, Shen An could sense people within a hundred meters.

Though it was only a rough sensation, it proved useful.

The area had been sealed off; anyone appearing here was either part of some clandestine organization or Bai Weiwei’s team.

As for those organizations, he had devoured all the ironwood, and one group’s members had been slain. The rest, he supposed, had no reason to linger.

Shen An did not believe those troublemakers would risk returning.