I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

Evan ran out of the apartment building with light steps, the cold wind blowing into his collar and making his shirt flutter.

He stood on the steps, looking at the dimly lit street illuminated by the streetlights.

The nights on Guding Street are as lively as ever.

The tavern was bathed in warm yellow light and the strains of an off-key accordion played as a street vendor hawked his last few bags of roasted chestnuts on a street corner.

Groups of workers staggered out of the tavern, helping each other as they moved toward home.

The Night Demon Potion's effects made his vision incredibly clear.

He could see not only the areas illuminated by streetlights, but also the dark corners where there were no lights.

Deep in the alley, a thief squatted behind a pile of garbage, counting the loose change he had just stolen, his lips moving silently.

On the fire escape of the building across the street, a young couple were pressed tightly together. The woman's skirt was lifted by the wind, but neither of them noticed.

At the far end of the dead end, a homeless man sat leaning against the wall, a hand-rolled cigarette in his hand. He took a puff and then tilted his head back to exhale a cloud of sweet white smoke into the night sky.

In his eyes, the whole street seemed as if a curtain had been lifted, exposing everything hidden in the dark folds.

"Tonight is my time to shine. In that case, I'll have some fun with them."

"I'd better use this opportunity to convince them that I'm also a superhuman."

"This will reduce a lot of trouble in the future."

Thinking of this, Ivan turned to look at the entrance of the shoe repair shop downstairs.

Old Tom hadn't closed up shop yet. He sat on a low stool, using the kerosene lamp light shining from the shop to sew the last few stitches on a boot.

He had clearly heard the commotion upstairs: the sounds of fighting, screams, and Zack's curses. In this old building with virtually no soundproofing, every sound was crystal clear.

But the old man didn't look up, didn't look around, and didn't even change the rhythm of his stitching.

Those who have lived their whole lives on Guding Street know when to play dumb.

"Old Tom, if Zack can't find me later, just say I went to the old factory in the south suburbs."

Ivan lowered his voice as he finished speaking.

Fearing that Zach wouldn't be able to find him, he smashed up the apartment in a fit of impotent rage.

As for whether the other party might both beat him up and smash his house, Evan had considered the possibility, but the probability was very low.

In Zach and Mary's minds, the apartment was already theirs, and they only needed to wait for Evan to breathe his last before they could own it.

They don't need to damage their future assets just to vent their anger.

Old Tom paused his stitching for a moment.

He didn't look up, but simply lowered his eyes and nodded slightly.

"it is good."

One word: no more questions, no more words.

Evan turned around, took off running, and started running against the cold November wind.

The sound of boots clicking on the cobblestones quickly faded into the distance, swallowed up by the night wind and the noise of the tavern.

A dozen seconds later, Zach walked out of the apartment building with a gloomy expression.

He looked around; the street was bustling with people, but there was no sign of Ivan.

That sickly fellow ran faster than a rabbit and had long since disappeared into the night.

"He said he went to the old factory in the southern suburbs."

Old Tom's voice came from across the street, not too loud, not too soft, just loud enough for Zach to hear.

The old man still didn't look up, his needle and thread continuing to pierce the leather of the boots with a steady rhythm.

Zach glanced at him but didn't ask any further questions.

He clenched his teeth, and the snake tattoo on his neck twisted slightly with the throbbing of his jaw muscles.

"This skinny guy, I think he's gone crazy from taking drugs."

The Guz gang has deep-rooted influence in this neighborhood.

The dirty little clinic in the dock area that introduced Ivan to the drug trial was also one of their businesses.

They knew everything about Evan: what he had done, what drugs he had taken, and how many times he had sold his blood.

"Today I will send you to hell."

Zach beckoned to his men, and the group marched south down the street, their boots clattering on the stone floor like a pack of vicious dogs unleashed from their cages.

After they left, the street returned to a brief period of calm.

In the dark alley across from the apartment building, a figure leaned against the wall, motionless.

He was an ordinary-looking young man, wearing a dark work jacket with the brim of his hat pulled low.

A faint, dark red glint flashed in his eyes in the shadows, like two cigarette butts about to go out.

"What's this guy trying to do?"

His voice was soft, tinged with confusion.

"Does he intend to challenge the entire Guz gang?"

"Becoming so arrogant just because you've gotten a little stronger, you're really just a lowly, narrow-minded stray dog."

He pushed himself up from the wall, ready to follow.

The master instructed that this test subject must not die outside.

He had just taken a step.

A white hand quietly reached out from behind him, like a falling feather, and gently brushed against his cheek.

The fingertips are cool to the touch, with a silky feel.

"Little Bloodthirsty Beast, shall we come with you?"

The voice was very soft and gentle, like someone was coaxing a child to sleep.

The young man's dark red eyes instantly became empty and dull, his pupils dilated, and the red light in his irises went out.

His body stiffened for a second, then slowly relaxed, like a rope with its bones removed.

"Yes... Master."

The shadows in the alley swallowed up the two figures.

Evan headed south, his steps light as he crossed Guding Street, passed Hain Street, and ran into the southern suburbs of the city.

The road surface underfoot changed from cobblestones to gravel, and then from gravel to mud overgrown with weeds.

The streetlights became increasingly sparse, until they disappeared completely.

The smell in the air had changed; the aroma of coal smoke and food was replaced by the musty smell of sea breeze, rust, and decaying vegetation.

An old factory in the southern suburbs.

An abandoned factory area near the sea, situated on an open area at the foot of a cliff.

Two years ago, a serious chemical spill reportedly occurred here, killing several workers and forcing the factory to shut down.

And so it was left abandoned. Capitalists were unwilling to spend money to clean it up, and the government pretended to have forgotten about its existence.

Today, this place has become a secret stronghold for gang members in the Guding Street area.

The trading of stolen goods, the punishment of traitors, and the handling of troubles all took place in this dark, unlit ruin.

Ivan ran nearly a mile in one go, his face flushed and his breathing steady.

He stood at the factory gate, looking out over the landscape.

Total darkness.

The three enormous factory buildings resembled three colossal beasts crouching in the darkness, their corrugated iron roofs warped by the sea breeze, groaning intermittently in the wind.

Most of the factory's perimeter wall has collapsed, with broken bricks scattered among the weeds.

The distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs echoed from the sea, occasionally punctuated by the barking of wild dogs and the howling of wolves from the mountains further away.

"It's dark enough and spacious enough. Let's see how I deal with you."

His 1.9 physique, combined with the perception enhancement from the Night Demon Potion, allowed him to thrive in this ruin where it was pitch black for ordinary people.

He could see every broken wall, every broken door, and every corner where he could hide.

"Furthermore, this is also an opportunity to test whether Pris has sent anyone to follow me."

He walked into the factory area, stood in the open space between the three factory buildings, and waited.

About ten minutes later, a noisy sound came from the north.

The screeching of bicycle tires rolling over the gravel road, the clicking of the chain turning, and the rough shouts and laughter of young people grew louder and louder as they approached.

Then a group of people appeared at the entrance to the factory area.

About twenty young people, around eighteen or nineteen years old, rode all sorts of dilapidated bicycles, with flashlights hanging from the handlebars, their beams sweeping haphazardly in the darkness.

They wore cheap work jackets and dirty boots, carried steel pipes, machetes, and chains, and had the kind of excitement and bloodlust typical of young thugs on their faces.

Zach threw the bicycle on the ground, and the chain rattled for a while.

He looked up and saw Ivan standing arrogantly at the factory gate, arms crossed, leaning against the rusty iron gate frame, looking as relaxed as if he were waiting for someone to meet him.

"Come on! Let's fight one-on-one if you dare!"

Ivan's voice echoed through the empty factory area, carried by the sea breeze, sometimes near, sometimes far.

Zach's face was as gloomy as the sky before a storm.

"Go! Block both exits!"

He pulled the short-barreled revolver from behind his waist and waved the muzzle in the air.

"Today I'm going to break all four of his limbs!"

More than twenty armed youths rushed forward and surged toward the factory gate.

Ivan did not engage in combat.

He turned around, his body as nimble as a cat's, and slipped into the nearest factory building.

The factory interior is a huge space, divided into dozens of rooms and passageways of varying sizes by partition walls and equipment wreckage.

The ground was covered with knee-high weeds, and moonlight leaking in through the broken skylight cast a few pale patches on the ground.

The walls were covered in graffiti and mold, and the air was filled with a mixture of smells of rust, engine oil, and rotting vegetation.

Some of the partition walls had holes chiseled into their bases, just big enough for a person to bend down and crawl through, like tunnels dug by rats.

For thugs who can only rely on flashlights for light, this is a dark maze.

For Evan, who possesses twice the night vision of the Night Demon Potion, this is his hunting ground.

More than twenty thugs rushed into the factory, their flashlight beams darting haphazardly through the darkness like a swarm of startled fireflies.

Their footsteps, breathing, and shouts echoed and reverberated in the empty factory, making it impossible for them to tell which direction the sounds were coming from.

Ivan crouched on a rusted beam, looking down.

Two thugs passed directly below him, their flashlights shining forward without glancing up at him.

He jumped down.

The boot landed precisely on the first person's shoulder, the immense impact slamming the man face-first into the concrete, where he groaned and lay motionless.

Using the momentum from his landing, Evan rolled over, grabbed the iron rod that the man had dropped with his right hand, swung it backhand, and the rod struck the second thug squarely in the back of the knee.

An ominous cracking sound came from his knee, and the thug screamed as he knelt on one knee.

Ivan didn't linger; just as he was about to turn and leave, his bad luck struck.

He ran forward, stepping on the top of his head, and the once sturdy crossbeam suddenly collapsed.

"Damn bad luck!"

To avoid the beam, I could pause for a moment...

The two thugs behind him reacted very quickly. One of them strode over and struck Ivan directly on the back with two sticks.

The intense pain caused Ivan's face to turn bright red instantly, and at the same time, the two thugs pounced on him!

Evan hurriedly retreated, kicking one of the thugs away as he turned to run, only to be grabbed by the arm by another thug.

This guy was like a madman, clinging tightly to Evan's arm and refusing to let go.

"I've got him!"

Ivan shook his arm frantically, but he just couldn't shake it off.

His face looked quite grim because he realized he had become arrogant.

He overestimated the actual difference between 1.9 and 1.

The figures on paper are double, but in reality, due to various factors, the overall improvement is only about 30%.

He couldn't crush these people.

At the crucial moment, he swung the iron bar and smashed the thug's head open!

After his mind went blank, the thug instinctively let go.

Seizing the opportunity, Ivan used his superior night vision and perception to quickly plunge into the darkness.