Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

In a basement of a shantytown in the Eighth District of Chenxi City.

The dim light bulb swayed precariously overhead, casting unstable spots of light.

The man in gray sat on a wooden chair, and on the bed opposite him, Xu Suyuan was unconscious.

Her face was as pale as paper, and her brows were furrowed, clearly struggling with a nightmare.

Gradually, the gray-clad man's breathing became lighter, as if he had entered a light sleep.

But right under his nose, his eyeballs were moving violently.

He fell asleep, or rather, he was dragged back into the abyss that arrived as expected.

……

The dream had no logic; it was just fragmented flashbacks.

It started as a blazing sun.

It was an afternoon many years ago. Dust filled the training field, and sweat dripped down our faces and into our necks, salty and scalding hot.

His comrade's smiling face was somewhat blurred in the sunlight, but that did not diminish the weight of that large hand patting firmly on his shoulder.

"Han Xiao, where do you plan to go after you retire? With your stubborn temper, you'll suffer if you go to civilian life."

The scene shifts, and the military insignia on the shoulder straps is replaced by the badge of the tax inspection bureau.

"Daddy! Lift me up high!"

A crisp laugh, like a silver bell, struck my eardrums.

His daughter, Xiaoyu, wearing a pink dress, rushed towards him with open arms.

That soft, fluffy touch, that embrace with a faint milky scent, is the most wonderful thing in the world.

And Liu Qing.

His wife was standing in the kitchen, turning back to smile at him.

Those gentle hands lightly brushed across his forehead; the fingertips were slightly cool, yet they made him feel a sense of peace he had never known before.

"I made stewed pork ribs tonight, so drink less alcohol."

What a beautiful scene!

But in the next second, these heartwarming fragments, like an old photograph scorched by fire, instantly curled up and then violently torn to shreds.

Darkness surged up.

The dream scene became oppressive.

It was an office desk with a thick document spread out on it.

The red marker drew a series of alarming circles on it.

"Wei's Real Estate," "dual contracts," "unclear fund flows," "suspected tax evasion of an exceptionally large amount"...

Every word is a bomb about to explode.

"Deputy Section Chief Han."

A gentle yet chilling voice rang out.

There was another person in the picture; that was Zhao Cheng, the public relations director of the Wei Group.

He gently pushed a bank card in front of Han Xiao, placing it on top of the document.

"Here is three million, considered a small 'business consulting fee' for your brother-in-law. In addition, if you are lenient in this case, the Wei Group has already made arrangements for you to become the head of the tax bureau's audit department."

In his dream, Han Xiao looked at the card, then at Zhao Cheng's hypocritical face.

The stomach cramps caused by anger felt incredibly real, even in my dreams.

"Take it."

The voice in my dream was resolute: "Go back and tell Wei Donghai that this is national tax money, not your Wei family's private stash! I will investigate this case to the end!"

Zhao Cheng smiled, a smile that seemed to be directed at a dead man.

"Deputy Section Chief Han, being too straightforward can make you prone to breaking. This is a piece of advice."

The image began to distort.

The section chief who had always supported and protected him was suddenly transferred away by a single order.

When he met his trusted colleague Liu Mingyuan, the young man who always called him "Brother Han," Liu Mingyuan's eyes darted away, and he was clutching a piece of paper tightly in his hand.

That was Han Xiao's family's itinerary for returning to their hometown to pay respects to their ancestors during the Qingming Festival.

The scene shifts again, and a hand belonging to Wei Donghai's camp takes the note.

……

What followed was a chilling, deathly silence.

The world seemed to have been muted.

Han Xiao knew what was about to happen. He desperately tried to wake up in his dream, to scream, but his consciousness was firmly nailed to the moving car.

It was a rainy night during the Qingming Festival.

The windshield wipers were swung wildly, but they couldn't clear the water curtain from the windshield.

Sudden.

Two blinding white beams pierced the rain like swords; they were the high beams of a heavy truck, carrying destructive kinetic energy that filled the entire field of vision.

That wasn't light; it was the pupil of death.

All the sounds exploded at that moment.

The screeching of tires rubbing against the ground, the groaning of twisting metal, the shattering sound of breaking glass.

And that voice that he still can't get over—

"Han Xiao—!"

"dad--!!"

That was the subconscious call of his wife and daughter.

In that instant, Han Xiao in his dream felt the excruciating pain of the seatbelt digging into his sternum and felt the steering wheel turning futilely in his hands.

Watching the truck hurtle down like a mountain, a soul-crushing despair erupted from the depths of my heart.

Do not!

Don't crash into me!

Get out!

Get out of my way!

!

!

It was a torrent of willpower that transcended human limits, the most instinctive plea of ​​a husband and a father in the face of destruction.

"Deflect it!!!"

He roared inwardly, as if trying to use his will to push aside that massive steel behemoth weighing tens of tons.

"boom--!!!"

The world was plunged into darkness.

……

The next scene in the dream was the stark white ceiling of a hospital.

The police officer stood in front of the hospital bed: "...The vehicle involved in the accident was a scrapped car with a fake license plate, and the driver fled and disappeared...The on-site investigation determined that the brakes failed due to slippery roads caused by rain...There is no evidence to suggest it was murder...Please accept my condolences, Mr. Han."

accident.

Two simple words erased two lives and buried a happy family.

Then came the fall.

He refused the "preferential treatment" of being transferred to a sinecure and retired, and resolutely resigned from his public office.

Sell ​​the house and move into this dark, sunless basement.

The camera zooms out in the dream, freezing on that wall.

That was a wall in the basement, covered with photos.

Wei Donghai, Wei Zixuan, Wei...

Zhang Jingyi, Zhao Cheng, Gao Tianyou...

Liu Mingyuan...

And there's that portrait of the hit-and-run driver from memory...

Their faces were connected by red strokes, like a dripping spider web.

Every night, he would sit in front of this wall, grinding his soul with hatred.

Until that day...

The girl, covered in wounds, burst in and then fled in a panic.

Han Xiao did not give chase; he simply watched from the darkness.

A few days later, one night, he was awakened from a nightmare again.

But this time, he sensed something was different.

Deep within his soul, it was as if countless gray-brown seeds, carrying the warmth of magma, had been implanted into his soul.

The seed gave him a key, a key to unlock the "obsession" he had on that night of Qingming Festival.

[Kinetic deflection].

The dream entered its final fast-forward, a near-self-torturous asceticism.

In the dimly lit basement, Han Xiao held a slingshot and fired at the wall.

He was practicing "seeing".

It's not about seeing with your eyes, but about using your mind to capture the trajectory of an object's movement and to perceive that vector called "kinetic energy."

"collapse!"

The steel ball struck the wall, bounced back, and headed straight for his face.

He didn't hide.

He was waiting for the exact moment the steel ball was about to hit his face.

"deflection!"

Willpower was like an invisible hand, slapping hard against that steel ball.

"puff!"

The steel ball grazed his cheek, leaving a bloody mark, and embedded itself in the wooden board behind him.

Once, twice, a thousand times.

His face was covered in tiny cuts, his brain ached as if it were being churned in a blender, and blood dripped from his nose onto the floor.

But the light in his eyes grew brighter and colder.

Screen switch.

This time, what was aimed at his head was not a slingshot, but a pistol.

"Bang!"

Flames shot from the muzzle.

The moment the bullet left the barrel, time seemed to slow down.

He saw the spinning warhead and felt the terrifying force propelling it by the explosion of gunpowder.

That was the power of that truck from back then.

That was the force that took away his wife and daughters.

Get out of my way!

!

The air in the dream suddenly distorted, and the bullet deflected by 5 degrees the moment it left the barrel!

This time, I did it!!!

Immediately afterwards, Iron Hand's arrogant face appeared before him.

Han Xiao concentrated all the momentum from his charge and the momentum from his iron-handed block into a single point.

"puff!"

That was the sensation of a fist shattering a sternum and the force penetrating into the heart.

The thrill of taking the life of an enemy's lackey instantly washed away all the repression and sorrow.

Cool!

So cool!

This is the taste of revenge!

……

"call--!"

Han Xiao suddenly sprang up from the chair, his muscles tensing, and his right hand instantly reached for the gun handle behind his waist.