owlsbooks Chapter 14 Threat
Chapter 14 Threat
Ling Hu was enduring it.
These two thugs had clearly figured this out.
That's why they are so fearless.
"Let's go," Jiang Che said.
His voice wasn't loud, just loud enough for the two men to hear, "This is the area for handling wreckage, not a place to wander around."
The long-haired man turned his head and saw Jiang Che. He
He looked Jiang Che up and down – he was dressed in ordinary clothes, had no superhuman markings, no weapon in his hand, and didn’t look particularly strong.
The long-haired man's expression changed from wary to contemptuous.
"Who are you?"
"This is someone who has nothing to do with you," Jiang Che said, "but I suggest you leave."
"You offer a suggestion?" the long-haired man laughed. "Who do you think you are?"
Jiang Che did not answer.
He took a step forward and stood between Ling Yue and the two men.
"I just saw your tent in the East District," Jiang Che said, his tone as calm as if he were talking about the weather. "Most of the people living in the East District are locals from the White Stone base. You're from the newly arrived convoy, so you shouldn't be sharing the place. You sneaked in."
The long-haired man's expression changed.
"You sneaked in, wandered around the restricted area, and harassed the superhumans who were on missions," Jiang Che continued, his voice neither rising nor falling. "If I were to shout right now and call the patrol over, do you think you'd be persuaded to go back, or locked up?"
The bald man's face turned pale.
The long-haired man's lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but Jiang Che didn't give him the chance.
"Let's go," Jiang Che said. Only one word.
The long-haired man gritted his teeth, glared fiercely at Jiang Che, and turned to leave.
The bald man followed closely behind, and after taking a few steps, he turned back to look at Ling Yue.
The two disappeared into the shadows of the square.
Jiang Che turned around to face Ling Yue.
She stood still, the knife already sheathed at her waist.
She looked at Jiang Che, her eyes colder than before, filled with more wariness.
"You helped me because you touched me earlier, and you want to make amends?"
"No," Jiang Che said, "Even without what just happened, I would still have spoken up."
Why?
"Because what they did was wrong in the first place."
Ling Yue stared into Jiang Che's eyes for five seconds.
Then she looked away and squatted down again to deal with the remains.
"I have repaid your kindness," she said.
"What favor?" Jiang Che didn't understand.
"You helped me get rid of them. The matter of you touching me before is now settled." She didn't look at him as she spoke, her tone like stating an unalterable contractual clause. "But I don't like owing people. And I don't like others owing me. Stay away from me from now on."
Jiang Che looked at Ling Yue's back as she squatted on the ground, and a lot of things came to mind in an instant.
She's right.
There was indeed an element of "making amends" in his actions.
But another reason he spoke up was that he didn't like the two thugs—not because he was bursting with a sense of justice, but because he had had enough of that kind of look from Liu Hu and Wang Man.
That kind of gaze that sized up prey, dividing people into "edible" and "inedible".
But he didn't explain. Because explaining was pointless; the woman had already calculated everything, wiped it clean, and then kept her distance.
"Okay," Jiang Che said.
He turned and left.
After walking about ten steps, he heard a sound like venting his anger from behind, followed by the muffled sound of a short knife piercing the core cavity, and then the crackling sound of blue electric arcs exploding.
Ling Yue was using an electric heater to roast the residue.
Jiang Che did not turn around.
But he remembered a name: Ling Yue.
C-rank Thunder type, cold as ice, but calculating like an accountant.
He thought of Su Qingyuan.
Both Su Qingyuan and Su Qingyuan are sharp-tongued, but Su Qingyuan's coldness is just an outer shell, while inside is something warm, like roasted chestnuts in winter—hard on the outside, but sweet inside.
Ling Yue is different.
She was cold from head to toe, inside and out; even her breathing was sub-zero.
But Jiang Che noticed something.
As she crouched there dealing with the wreckage, her back was taut, a defensive posture.
It's like a wounded person raising all their thorns before the slightest disturbance.
She distrusts everyone extremely.
It's not something you're born with; it's something you're taught.
Jiang Che kept this speculation to himself and didn't say it aloud.
He returned to his post and continued moving debris.
The tingling sensation from before still lingered in his palm, as well as the tactile sensation of touching Ling Yue's body through his tactical uniform, which he had to admit he had to acknowledge.
That touch left a very specific, very private, and very inappropriate mark on his memory.
He rubbed his right hand on his pants, trying to wipe it off.
He took a deep breath and focused his attention on the system panel.
Current favorability rating: 24.
There's still some time before the next redemption.
But he wasn't in a hurry.
He now possesses peak D-level physical abilities, Su Qingyuan's trust, and a small but genuine network of relationships that he has gradually built up within the team.
This is not enough, but it is a start.
As for Ling Yue, she is someone who doesn't easily trust others, but once she does, that trust is heavier than anything else.
Of course, this is on the premise that she can trust him.
Jiang Che glanced at the edge of the square.
Ling Yue is no longer here.
She disposed of the wreckage, leaving only a charred patch on the ground.
He lowered his head and continued moving his remains.
The White Stone outpost's arrangement for the convoy was ostensibly a form of shelter, but in reality, they simply stuffed people into the outermost temporary tent area and then abandoned them.
There was no unified distribution of supplies, no medical services, and even drinking water had to be collected by queuing at the water room in the northeast corner of the stronghold, with a limit of two liters per person per day.
Two liters of water may sound like a lot, but it's simply not enough for drinking, washing, and treating wounds.
The next morning, Jiang Che was awakened by the sound of arguing outside the tent.
He opened his eyes, and his D-level hearing allowed the sounds to flood in like a tidal wave.
There were men's hoarse roars, women's shrill cries, the clanging of plastic buckets being kicked over, and the dull thud of fists hitting flesh.
He sat up; the other seven people in the tent were still asleep.
They were all ordinary people who had been assigned to the convoy like him. They had spent the whole day yesterday moving wreckage and were so exhausted they looked like they were about to die.
Jiang Che didn't wake them; he simply lifted the tent flap and went outside.
The morning light was faint, and the fog had not yet dissipated.
The temporary tent area was a gray sea, with dozens of tents resembling rows of low graves.
The air was filled with the smell of urine and the pungent odor of disinfectant.
The arguing was coming from the direction of the water room.
When Jiang Che walked over, there were already more than a dozen people surrounding him.
In the center of the crowd, two men were pinning a thin, middle-aged woman to the ground and snatching the plastic bucket from her hands.
The bucket of water had probably just been filled, but most of it was spilled during the robbery, leaving a dark, wet stain on the ground.
The woman clung tightly to the bucket, crying out, "This is my child's water," and "Please!"