Over the next two hours, Qiu Shubai took Luo Yang to seven different shops.
Beyond basic melee weapons, she also equipped him with twenty high-explosive grenades, five specialized pistols with several hundred rounds of custom ammunition, and a bunch of miscellaneous gear that Luo Yang couldn't even name.
Qiu Shubai swiped her card for every single purchase.
And Luo Yang kept track of every single cent in his head.
By the time they stepped out of the last shop, Luo Yang was carrying five or six large bags, with a bulging tactical backpack slung over his shoulders.
“How much... was the total?” His voice trembled slightly.
Qiu Shubai pulled out her phone, scrolled through her transaction history, and said nonchalantly, “One hundred thirteen thousand, eight hundred.”
“...”
Luo Yang felt his heart skip a beat.
“Plus the sixty-seven thousand for the weapons earlier, that makes one hundred eighty thousand, eight hundred,” Qiu Shubai added. “Forget the change. Just pay me back one hundred eighty thousand.”
“One hundred eighty thousand...” Luo Yang muttered the number, his eyes vacant.
That was more than half of his entire savings.
“No need to rush the repayment.” Qiu Shubai seemed to sense his distress. “You can look at it as hush money for keeping my identity a secret.”
“Even so, it doesn't need to be this much...” He felt a bit guilty.
“Then put yourself in my shoes. If it were you, would you think your secret is only worth a few thousand?” Qiu Shubai countered.
Luo Yang fell silent.
Indeed, if the matter of the Special Division were leaked, it would be no small thing for Qiu Shubai. The nature of the Special Division was unique; if a member's identity were exposed, not only would she be in trouble, but even the Ability Bureau she was officially part of could be implicated.
“Alright.” He stopped protesting. “Consider it a debt I owe you. Once I have the money, you'll be the first person I pay back.”
Qiu Shubai didn't respond, simply turning toward the parking lot.
Luo Yang followed behind her, lugging the many bags, when he suddenly remembered something.
“By the way, you spent so much today without even blinking. Are your savings really that massive?”
Qiu Shubai didn't stop, her voice slightly muffled by the wind. “My father... left me an inheritance.”
Luo Yang froze.
No wonder.
“Your father... how did he...” Luo Yang cut himself off halfway.
The question felt too intrusive.
Qiu Shubai didn't seem to mind. She pulled open the car door, placed the cases in the back seat, and spoke in a tone as calm as if she were talking about someone else.
“Three years ago, he died at the hands of an Eclipse-rank Heterosequence. At that time, I was still studying at the Punisher Academy in the capital, and I hadn't even reached the Core Consolidation rank.”
“...”
Luo Yang didn't know what to say.
“I'm sorry for your loss”? It felt too hollow, and far too late.
“I'll help you get revenge”? He didn't have that intention, nor was he in a position to do such a thing.
He simply remained silent, placing the bags into the car one by one before sitting in the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt.
The car started, the low hum of the engine covering the silence between them.
After a long while, Luo Yang finally spoke. “That Heterosequence... what happened to it?”
“It was eliminated by people from the Capital Ability Bureau.” Qiu Shubai stared straight ahead. “The core was recovered. It wasn't made into equipment, and what happened to it after that, I don't know. My father's last wish was for me to live a good life with his inheritance, not to become someone who lives only for battle.”
She paused, her lips curving into a very faint arc—not quite a smile, but more like a form of catharsis.
“That's why I spend money so aggressively. I could never spend all the money he left me in a lifetime anyway.”
Luo Yang turned his head to look at her.
The sunlight filtered through the car window, casting distinct shadows across her profile. Her expression remained cold and aloof, but deep in her eyes, something seemed to be trembling slightly.
He suddenly thought of that KK avatar.
The girl with long silver-white hair, holding a white rapier, standing under the starry sky.
He was certain he had drawn it.
It was originally a full-body portrait, with a line of text written in cursive at the very bottom:
“Those who always live a life as bland as water are bound to drown in it one day.”
That was the personal signature of his very first KK account.
At the time, he just felt that the sentence resonated with him in some inexplicable way, so he had written it down on a whim.
But now, he suddenly realized that the person who had commissioned him for that avatar back then might have truly been drowning in a certain kind of life.
He suddenly felt an urge to reveal his identity and ask the girl beside him what exactly had happened to that little girl who used to vent her frustrations to him.
But the awkwardness in his heart kept him from saying a single word.
What if Qiu Shubai didn't remember those events from years ago? Wouldn't that make him look incredibly over-sentimental?
Even if he did ask, what role would he be playing? A past contractor? Or the listening ear she used to pour her emotions into?
Or perhaps the person who commissioned the drawing wasn't Qiu Shubai at all, but a friend of hers?
He had no way of stopping the image from spreading across the internet, after all.
The more Luo Yang thought, the more chaotic his mind became. Overthinking every possibility before acting had become an unshakeable habit.
He didn't want to accidentally tank his favorability with the campus beauty.
“Let's... just leave it like this for now,” he whispered to himself.
The next day, Luo Yang locked himself in the villa's basement, spending six full hours processing the newly purchased equipment.
He needed to use his mental power to observe the minute differences in each piece of gear.
Even though these mass-produced items likely came from the same assembly line, that didn't mean they were identical.
Errors during manufacturing, different batches of raw materials—many factors would affect how long they could last under the control of Weapon's End, Ember's Birth.
Since awakening his ability on his tenth birthday, Luo Yang had coexisted with this strange power for over eight years. He had developed an internal standard that allowed him to roughly estimate how long a weapon could hold out under his control before being destroyed.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by various tools and parts. He held every sword, every blade, and every hand crossbow in his hands, closing his eyes and injecting his mental power into them thread by thread.
It was a strange sensation.
It felt as if he were having a conversation with these weapons and gear that should have been inanimate objects.
By the time he finished everything, it was already eleven at night. He climbed out of the basement, casually cooked a bowl of noodles to fill his stomach, and then lay on the sofa scrolling through his phone.
A new message arrived on the Punisher app.
It was from Qiu Shubai.
“I've sent you the mission route map. Remember to take a look.”
Luo Yang opened the attachment. It was a detailed map marking the Rift's location, the military defense lines, the expected types and numbers of mutant beasts, and several retreat routes for emergencies.
He studied it carefully twice before replying: “Received.”
A few seconds later, Qiu Shubai sent another message.
“Go to sleep early. Don't be late.”
Luo Yang stared at those few words on the screen and couldn't help but chuckle.
“You too, Chief.”
He hit send, turned off his phone, and closed his eyes.
They were heading out tomorrow.
But before the official departure, he still had some things to finish.
Rate on N.U.
