Chapter Eight: The Terms

“These three are heading straight for Ding Li and his companion…” Xia Yan watched the GPS map. Antoine and his group of three had most likely been lured out by his own actions earlier, but now they had changed direction and were hurrying toward Ding Li’s position.

From Antoine’s point of view, apart from their own trio, there were four others still alive on the map. Two of them were lone wolves, one of whom was certainly Brook. Antoine wouldn’t risk hunting down the lone wolves; instead, it made the most sense to target the other pair acting together. Picking off the slightly weaker opponents would be to their advantage.

“Boss, someone’s following us. It’s the lone dot, less than three li away,” the freckled girl reported as she moved, eyes fixed on her wristwatch’s display.

“Is it Brook, or someone else?” Antoine’s expression darkened. Fighting in the dark was not in their favor, and with Brook’s speed, escaping him would be nearly impossible.

“Prepare for battle,” Antoine decided immediately. “Whoever it is, even if it’s Brook, we kill him.”

All three had actually fought Brook before—on the seventh day. That skirmish involved not only them but at least ten other convicts, with Brook weaving through the chaos. After both sides eliminated the other convicts, they had only briefly clashed. Thanks to that man, the freckled girl Liao Qin had been badly injured. That time, they had retreated after a single exchange, neither pushing things to the limit. In truth, Antoine was far from confident in a victory—the hook-nosed man was terrifyingly strong.

“Who’s there? Come out!” Liao Qin barked, firing her pistol in short bursts ahead. Yet the shadow vanished as soon as it moved, leaving no trace. The elusive movement in the darkness was highly reminiscent of Brook, making them all the more uneasy. Night combat was not to their advantage.

“I am Number Sixty-One—Xia Yan.”

To their surprise, a youthful male voice sounded from all around. It was not Brook, but another lone wolf.

“Number Sixty-One, Xia Yan.” Antoine searched his memory but could not place the name. An obscure figure, perhaps, but anyone who had survived this long must be far stronger than he appeared. Antoine was not reckless; he immediately marked Xia Yan as a ‘danger.’

“You’re Antoine’s group, aren’t you?” Xia Yan continued.

“If you want to talk, why not show yourself first, Mr. Xia Yan?” Antoine’s tone was grim.

“I want to work with you,” Xia Yan said bluntly. “I fought Brook during the day. My odds of winning alone are less than thirty percent. But if we join forces, there’s hope.”

“Thirty percent?” Antoine’s brow furrowed, disbelief in his eyes. Even for himself, his chances against Brook in a one-on-one fight were only around thirty percent, perhaps less. Brook was the greatest obstacle to winning. Over these days, he’d concocted dozens of plans to kill Brook.

“Why should we trust someone hiding in the shadows?” the short boy sneered, mocking Xia Yan.

“I don’t want to die, but without your cooperation, I’m almost certainly dead. I can’t handle Brook alone, and if the three of you die, I’ll be next,” Xia Yan replied coldly.

“So, boy, you’re saying we can’t beat Brook?” Antoine retorted.

“At the very least, your odds are slim,” Xia Yan said. “You kill Brook; I’ll assist. Together we finish off the remaining two convicts. Then, I join your team. The winner’s spot is yours—I only want to survive.”

“Agreed,” Antoine nodded. “But I have two conditions. First, you come out and duel me, and prove your strength. Second, you hand over your weapons for us to hold; we’ll return them when we face Brook.”

Antoine’s response wasn’t quite what Xia Yan expected. This rugged, wild man had brains as well as brawn.

“I accept the first condition. The second, I refuse,” Xia Yan replied with a cold smile. “Handing over my weapons is no different from handing over my life.”

With that, he stepped from a side corridor into view.

Antoine finally got a good look at him—a youth, not much older than his own teammates.

“Good. Come, let me see what you can do.”

Antoine’s figure loomed like a giant bull, standing over two meters tall, built like a small giant, his muscular frame nearly bursting through his clothes.

“An assault rifle?”

Xia Yan had intended to fire first, but Antoine was quicker. He raised an E-grade submachine gun and swept a hail of bullets at Xia Yan’s position, obliterating everything in front. Fortunately, it was night; Antoine’s aim was poor. Xia Yan rolled to cover, escaping unscathed.

Antoine grinned viciously. The distance closed to within three meters. He tossed aside his rifle, drew a broadsword, and swung at Xia Yan.

The force was overwhelming, as if tearing the wind, splitting mountains—nothing could stop it.

Xia Yan could only brace himself, blocking with his alloy longsword. He felt a strength so immense his hand went numb—he nearly lost his grip.

“How can this man be so strong?” Xia Yan marveled. If Brook’s speed was superhuman, his physical development perhaps exceeding ten percent beyond the limit, then Antoine’s strength was at least at that critical level as well.

No one wanted to take a direct hit from a level-one mutant. Their power was too great. Now, blocking Antoine’s attack felt just like that—his whole body oppressed and strained.

Using the momentum, Xia Yan rolled backward, tossed his blade aside, and in one motion drew his pistol, firing at Antoine as he charged.

“Kid, you’re the first to draw a gun on me at this range. You think I’ll give you the chance?” Antoine sneered, sweeping his blade toward Xia Yan’s waist, intending to slice him in half.

Xia Yan fired without hesitation; there was no avoiding it. The bullet struck not Antoine, but the blade itself.

The impact made Antoine falter, his attack slowing. Before he could adjust, Xia Yan dodged clear.

The two stood two or three meters apart, facing each other—Xia Yan gripping his pistol, cold and unreadable; Antoine, now wary and incredulous.

To hit his swinging blade meant Xia Yan could have aimed for his heart or head—at such range, there was almost no way to dodge, only to take the blow. If Xia Yan had aimed at him, Antoine might have been wounded or killed, but so would Xia Yan. Instead, he hit the blade to throw off Antoine’s attack.

No matter how you looked at it, this youth was formidable enough to earn a spot on the danger list.

Antoine hesitated, uncertain how to handle him.

“Well? Want to go on?” Xia Yan asked. “I didn’t shoot at you because I don’t want you injured—we need you in fighting shape.”

“Why should I believe you?” Antoine demanded.

“You don’t need to. Our deal lasts only until Brook is dead. After that, I’ll leave your team. If you try to kill me, I’ll fight back. If not, first place is yours.”

“Easy to say. Who knows if you’ll betray us, or if you’re one of Brook’s men?” the freckled girl said, mistrustful.

“If I were working with Brook, what chance would you have?” Xia Yan retorted without mercy.

Antoine’s expression darkened. This boy definitely wasn’t one of Brook’s.

“How will you help us?” Antoine asked.

“I’m good with firearms; you’re best in close combat. Together, we can take Brook. You tie him down, I’ll shoot him from a distance. Your teammates can use guns too—to support and watch me,” Xia Yan explained.

“You’ll really let me take first place?” Antoine’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Of course. I told you, I just want to live—that matters more than the prize. Even without first place, there are plenty of rewards,” Xia Yan replied without a flicker of guilt.

He lied as naturally as breathing—an actor worthy of an Oscar. But he wasn’t human; he was a convict.

“Fine, I accept your proposal,” Antoine said through gritted teeth.

“Boss…” the freckled girl and short boy looked at him, puzzled.

“Enough. I know what I’m doing,” Antoine snapped. “But I have one condition. If you refuse, there’s no deal.”

“What condition?” Xia Yan asked.

“We kill the other two before Brook. Only after they’re dead do we go for Brook,” Antoine said, his gaze sharp. “That’s my demand. If you’re a lone wolf, their lives don’t matter to you. Do you accept, or not?”

His condition was clear: Ding Li and Su Zhu must die first—only then would he agree to the alliance.