Chapter 57: Under the Gaze of All

A soul-rending pain surged through him like a tidal wave.

From the depths of sleep, Ren Zhong's eyes flew open.

The moment his consciousness snapped into clarity, agony crashed over him, wild and violent as a storm at sea.

Clutching his head, Ren Zhong felt a sheen of cold sweat burst forth from his cheeks, trickling down his temples like a ceaseless spring.

He understood at once: this was the aftermath of an overdose of stimulants.

The pain inside his skull only grew sharper by the second. When it peaked, his body would inevitably trigger its self-defense mechanism—shock, and then death.

No ordinary person could endure such agony.

But he was Ren Zhong—the man who had, just last night, set forth an earth-shaking ambition, who had tasted the torment of death in the flesh countless times, who, with a brain index pushed far beyond the norm, had fallen again and again in hellish virtual combat.

The system’s warning of extreme difficulty—he had withstood it in full.

And in this subtle moment, what surfaced first in Ren Zhong’s mind were the books he’d read as a boy.

Some could sit unmoving as flames licked their flesh, unwavering until the end.

Some could grit their teeth in silence as bamboo skewers pierced their fingers.

And others…

Ren Zhong’s mind, astonishingly, grew clearer.

If the end of this suffering was certain death, what was there to fear?

He found himself able, even now, to raise his wrist and check his watch.

It was 10:19 a.m.

Strange.

He’d gone to bed at 2:19 in the morning.

Had he really slept a full eight hours?

Sun Miaoming had insisted he’d be dead in six—but here he was, two hours past that mark.

It must have been the forced hypnosis of the wristwatch overpowering the side effects of the stimulant.

Which meant that, for two hours, his body had endured the agony of a million ants gnawing his brain, all while he remained unaware.

The depth of this forced hypnosis ran deeper than the backlash from the stimulant. No wonder Bei Lihui had never awakened, even at death’s door; no wonder, for all the tumult in his room, Lin Wang and the others had not stirred; no wonder the world had Night Watchers.

Ren Zhong glanced at his watch’s balance.

A different pain, in that instant, almost eclipsed the physical torment.

After a night’s rest, the Level-4 watch had paid out its wages.

His account had risen from 3.36 to 53.36.

So, sleeping with a Level-4 watch meant a daily fixed wage of fifty points.

If it had only risen by one point, he could have accepted dying with 4.36 to his name.

But now, about to die, he had over fifty points left unspent.

What a shame.

A miscalculation.

At that moment, a sudden commotion erupted outside his door.

Bang!

The alloy door was smashed open from the outside.

A rush of footsteps echoed up the stairs.

A moment later, five people stood in the second-floor room.

It was Lin Wang and his four teammates.

Lin Wang did not rage, merely looked down at Ren Zhong lying on the bed, his eyes lingering briefly on the Level-4 watch on Ren Zhong’s wrist.

With his enemies upon him, Ren Zhong forced himself upright, standing with his hands behind his back as he surveyed the room.

Though his face was pallid, sweat still streaming, and his clothes soaked through, his expression remained perfectly controlled.

“You’re much later than I expected. Go ahead.”

Lin Wang finally spoke. “You killed my man. Did you think you’d get off with a quick, easy death? No such luck.”

Ren Zhong grinned. “Oh? And yet you killed my man as well.”

“Where’s your proof?” Lin Wang shot back.

The man beside Lin Wang sneered. “They were just tools. Do they even count as people?”

Ren Zhong turned to him and asked, “And what about you? Are you any better?”

In the next instant, Lin Wang struck.

He seized Ren Zhong by the collar.

From Lin Wang’s combat suit came the hum of activating energy; in a blink, he hovered like a predator.

Bang!

The window shattered as Lin Wang dragged Ren Zhong by the back of his collar, flying them both out of the shack and upward.

Ren Zhong’s feet hit solid ground again—this time, the rooftop of his own shack’s second floor.

The other four followed, landing behind them.

Looking down, Ren Zhong saw the alley below packed with a dense crowd of onlookers, many still hurrying over from afar.

There was no room left; some people had started climbing onto the opposite rooftops to watch.

At the front below, stood the portly old man, Ma Dafu.

By his side, in a rare open space, was a woman in martial armor—his daughter, the town guard captain Ma Xiaoling.

A short distance behind the crowd, Ju Qingmeng and Sun Miaoming, both prominent figures in the town, stood observing.

Each regarded him with a complex, meaningful gaze.

Ju Qingmeng’s eyes burned with anger at being deceived.

Sun Miaoming’s held a sense of release, and a trace of regret.

Ren Zhong hadn’t expected such a crowd to witness his death.

He couldn’t help but recall indelible scenes from history books.

The stimulant was riling his brain again; Ren Zhong suddenly burst out laughing.

All men must die. Some deaths are as weightless as a feather; others as heavy as a mountain.

To die under so many watching eyes was, perhaps, the highest tribute to the ideals he had just forged.

Worth it.

When his laughter faded, Ren Zhong looked down at Ma Dafu. “Mayor Ma, why did it take you so long to catch me?”

Ma Dafu sighed. “When I first heard the news yesterday, I didn’t want to believe it. Only fifteen minutes ago did I finally confirm it. Mr. Ren, your lie fooled me badly. I just can’t understand why, this time…”

He left the thought unfinished.

His regret, no doubt, was over why a census officer could not possibly have come to Spark Town this time.

He didn’t want the ordinary wastelanders to learn the truth.

Ren Zhong had gained the information he wanted.

He turned to Lin Wang. “Why are there so many people here?”

Lin Wang replied, “Because I saw the surveillance footage and knew it was you. This morning, I raised the bounty to a hundred points.”

“Did anyone claim the bounty?”

From below, Ma Dafu answered, “I was the one who found your hiding place.”

Ren Zhong was taken aback.

He figured Lin Wang had woken up at six, immediately identified the killer as a person rather than a ruin beast from the footage, and gone straight to Ma Dafu.

Yet Ma Dafu had only issued the wanted notice at 10:15, and had instantly used high-tech means to confirm Ren Zhong’s identity and location.

So, Bei Lihui’s status was not as high as it seemed.

“So, Lin Wang, what do you plan to do? I suggest you get on with it, or you might lose your chance.”

Lin Wang slowly drew a small knife from his sleeve, then kicked at the back of Ren Zhong’s knee.

He wanted Ren Zhong to kneel.

But Ren Zhong only staggered forward one step, still standing firm.

Now Ren Zhong understood his intent.

As one of the town’s three professional team leaders, it would undermine Lin Wang’s authority if a member of an affiliated wastelander team killed one of his official members.

He wanted Ren Zhong to die, before all these eyes, in the most humiliating, agonizing way possible.

Death was so commonplace that most wastelanders no longer feared it; Lin Wang needed to make an example that would inspire genuine terror.

He would kill one to warn a hundred.

“Damn! Still got some backbone?”

Another professional team member behind them abruptly drew his sword, preparing to sever Ren Zhong’s legs from behind.

Just then, from below, Ju Qingmeng finally spoke.

“Wait!”

Lin Wang and his team froze.

Though she’d fallen from grace, Ju Qingmeng was still, by the standards of Spark Town, the unchallenged manager of the arms market and a second-tier citizen, unlike the wastelanders like Lin Wang. Her word could not be ignored.

“Manager Ju, is there something you wish?”

Lin Wang bent respectfully, his tone deferential.

Ju Qingmeng didn’t even look at him, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on Ren Zhong.

“Why did you lie to me? What did I ever do to you? Was this amusing to you? Entertaining? Did you just want to cheat me out of some equipment? Ren Zhong! You owe me an explanation!”

Her voice trembled.

She cared nothing for Bei Lihui’s death, nor even that Ren Zhong had impersonated a census officer.

What truly enraged her was the memory of her own heart fluttering the night before.

She could not believe that the man who had touched her so deeply was nothing but a lowly fraud.

Ren Zhong met her gaze and, for a long moment, could not answer.

He understood her grief and fury.

But he felt little shame.

He drew a deep breath and declared, resolute, “I did not deceive you. Everything I promised—I will do.”