Silencing 2

"Bang—"

Officer Huang fired three shots in an instant, but due to the rapid succession, Gao Yang only heard one gunshot.

At the moment of the shot, three spurts of flying sparks appeared in the two-meter air in front of Officer Huang; his three daggers, intended for a sneak attack, were knocked away.

However, the daggers were only a feint.

Officer Huang was startled—a dark figure had, unbeknownst to him, swooped down from his left, coming right under his eyelids.

"Swish—" A sharp flash of white blade passed by.

In the blink of an eye, Officer Huang managed to draw his handgun to defend himself, but the pistol, as if made of rubber, was instantly sliced into two; at the same time, his two fingers were severed as if they were mere scallions.

Half a second later, Officer Huang's head was about to be removed.

Yet, that scene did not come to pass.

A long, slender Tang dao pressed against Officer Huang's Adam's apple without striking downward. Soon, the skin at the man's throat split, releasing a fine trickle of fresh blood—an injury caused by the powerful force of the blade's energy.

Qingling withdrew her knife and stepped back two paces. "You are not a Cheng Beast."

Officer Huang clutched his bleeding fingers; the pain turned his face pale, but he showed no sign of panic or fear. "How did you know?"

"If you were a Cheng Beast, at the last second you would have used both arms to block my attack." Qingling ran a finger lightly along the blood-free edge of her blade. In her hand, the Tang dao folded and vanished.

"They are very confident in their own bodies; that is an instinctive reaction. Humans are different—they choose to block my slash with what they consider solid."

"Exactly. I, too, am an awakened." Officer Huang smiled. "Thank you for not killing me."

...

At 2:00 AM, Mountain Green District, Emergency Building, Third Hospital.

Officer Huang's fingers had been reattached and bandaged; Gao Yang and Qingling waited in the lobby.

Officer Huang stepped out of the hospital with a smile. "Tomorrow I'll file a report. You two were robbed by street thugs, and I intervened, accidentally injuring myself."

Gao Yang and Qingling exchanged glances and remained silent.

Officer Huang continued, "Aren't you hungry? Come on, let's go get something to eat."

...

The three went to a spicy hot pot late-night stall near the hospital. In an inconspicuous alley stood a small blue tent, beneath which was a handcart equipped with a spicy hot pot and a small liquefied gas canister. Under the dim light and the aromatic wafts of food, it was a cozy corner in the otherwise cold city.

The owner was an energetic man in his sixties who spoke with vigor.

"Officer Huang, you're here! Hey, what happened to your hand?"

"Work injury."

"Your line is really tough; does that mean you can't drink today?"

"Yes, everything else is just as before."

"Alright." The old man busied himself, then looked toward Gao Yang and Qingling. "What would you two like to eat?"

Qingling, expressionless, glanced at the menu and quickly decided, "One skewer of shiitake mushrooms, one of winter melon, one of potatoes, one of cabbage, one of fish balls, one of crab sticks, one of fried gluten, one serving of tomatoes, and one serving of sweet potato vermicelli. Add extra spice."

Gao Yang was taken aback—she was remarkably direct.

"Well then, I'll have the same as her."

The three sat side by side by the little cart, hungrily devouring the fragrant spicy hot pot. Officer Huang, with an expression of pure enjoyment, remarked, "Mmm, that feeling of escaping death is fantastic—I thought I'd never be able to eat like this again."

Qingling said nothing, focusing solely on biting into a potato.

Gao Yang, cautiously, said, "Officer Huang, we'd better not discuss these matters in public."

Officer Huang looked up and cast a glance at the old man stirring the meat, "It's fine; Old Liu is a lost soul. He automatically ignores anything he doesn't want to hear, isn't that right, Old Liu?"

Old Liu raised his head, "What's up?"

"I was saying that today's pork lung is very crispy—let's have another serving."

"Alright." Old Liu laughed heartily.

Gao Yang finally relaxed a bit. "Were you purposely testing me and Qingling today?"

Officer Huang's smile turned a bit rueful. "I already knew you were awakened; I just didn't expect your girlfriend to be one as well."

"Not girlfriend," Qingling interjected after finishing her potato slices and beginning on the fish balls.

"Do you remember that day when I killed the mentally ill man?" Officer Huang asked.

"Remember," Gao Yang replied. How could he forget? If it weren't for that, none of these troublesome matters would have occurred.

"He was an awakened, too," Officer Huang said with a tinge of regret in his eyes. "But he completely exposed himself and lost all hope. Rather than letting him be tortured or devoured by a Cheng Beast, I sent him off."

Gao Yang remained silent.

"That fellow's talent was [Olfaction], serial number 175. He could distinguish the scent of beasts, and thus lived in constant fear, eventually breaking down mentally."

Officer Huang stared at the steaming hot pot, waiting devoutly for the pork lung to be ready. "He was the first to detect that you were human by smell, so he told you to run. Had I not shot him then, I was afraid he would have implicated you."

"...Thank you," Gao Yang's voice tightened.

"It's the least I could do; after all, we're all in the same boat."

"You mentioned talents earlier," Gao Yang licked his lips. "Does every awakened person have a different talent?"

"Of course," Officer Huang replied. "My talent is [Gun God], serial number 41—I'm an expert with firearms, always hit my mark, and can fire at lightning speed."

"Then what is my talent?" Gao Yang asked deliberately.

"You've always kept it hidden, and since I don't have a talent for investigation, how would I know?" Officer Huang chuckled.

"Oh."

"Your 'girlfriend's' talent should be [Metal], serial number 20, capable of controlling any metallic element."

"Not girlfriend," Qingling corrected after finishing the fish balls and beginning on the shiitake mushrooms.

Officer Huang looked at Qingling with evident envy. "In addition, she likely possesses the talent [Blade God], serial number 32. With her prowess in swordsmanship and destructive force, it's far beyond what ordinary people can achieve."

"How many types of talents can there be?" Gao Yang asked.

"Once a human awakens, they immediately acquire one talent. Later, they can gain further insights, though the methods and principles for such revelations remain beyond my understanding."

"How do you know so much detail about these talents?" Gao Yang wondered—could it be that Officer Huang also has a system? That shouldn't be the case.

"I've lived longer than you and, as a police officer, I have access to more information channels," Officer Huang smiled. "In fact, I once saw the complete talent serial list. Based on my experiences so far, I believe the information on that list is accurate and trustworthy."

"How many talents are there in total?" Qingyang, after finishing the fish balls, began on the cabbage.

"There are 199 serial numbers in total. Theoretically, the smaller the number, the stronger the talent." Officer Huang looked at Qingling with unabashed envy. "You're very strong."

Gao Yang's heart sank: I'm serial number 199, at the bottom—no wonder I feel insignificant. And "lucky"—lucky for you, oh immortal, so fortunate indeed.

Qingling set down the chopsticks she was using for the cabbage. "Hand over the serial list."

"There's no physical copy," Officer Huang said, pointing at his head. "It's all recorded here."

"Then tell me as well."

"Well," Officer Huang smiled lightly, "I suppose I can tell you."

"You have conditions?" Gao Yang guessed.

"Of course; there's no such thing as a free lunch," Officer Huang said with a meaningful smile. "Except for this spicy hot pot."