Chapter 123: The Peculiar Mission

Xie Liu had just gotten off the train when a cold wind blew, sending a chill through him. He tightened the worn-down puffer jacket he had been wearing for who knows how many years, the duck down poking out everywhere. At this moment, his entire outfit looked quite shabby: a black scarf faded to nearly white, a gift from his cousin when he first started college; pants that his elderly relatives had picked up from a street stall before the New Year—frumpy but warm; tattered shoes left behind by his father at work, who had intended to pass them down but Xie Liu had refused, saying they could still last another year; and the little cotton hat on his head, said to be part of his mother’s dowry, knitted by family, of absolutely fine quality.

Though his attire was far from valuable, to Xie Liu it was more precious than anything else. He pulled his clothes tighter around him and whispered, “It’s so cold here.” He had spent a fairly typical New Year at home, aside from family nagging about marriage and gaining ten pounds.

Eager to return, Xie Liu wasted no time after disembarking and headed straight to his university. The school remained quiet with several days left before classes resumed. Walking alone down the deserted path, he soon arrived beneath his dormitory.

The pants he had hung out before the break fluttered lonely in the wind. Xie Liu smiled wryly—this had to be the doing of Xu Xiong. He had no energy left to complain and dragged his battered suitcase up to the fourth floor, finding his dorm door.

Noticing the door was unlocked, he wondered if anyone had arrived. Without hesitation, he pushed it open, but his expression changed instantly upon stepping inside. “Sorry, wrong room,” he muttered, turning to leave and closing the door behind him.

Suddenly, a shout echoed down the hallway: “No, absolutely not! Why do I have to take a mission right after arriving? Noooo!”

…

Reluctantly, Xie Liu sat on the bed, glancing sideways at the figure beside him—Vladimir, who looked every bit the serious type. “So, what ridiculous mission have you cooked up for me this time?”

“What nonsense! Do I look like that kind of person?” Vladimir retorted disdainfully. Xie Liu nodded firmly. “Oh yes, very much so.”

Vladimir was speechless.

“Well, if you think so, then let’s make it true,” Vladimir said, pulling out a rolled-up A4 sheet. “Here’s your task.”

“Figures. You capitalist scum, relentless in squeezing my surplus value,” Xie Liu rolled his eyes. Vladimir shook his head. “You’re correct that you’re surplus, but you have no value.”

Xie Liu sighed, too tired to argue with this sanctimonious fellow, and took the mission report.

“Huh? Mission level: Unknown? What the hell is that?” Xie Liu had handled dozens of missions before, but this was the first time he saw an unknown difficulty rating. According to the city’s intelligence system, such ambiguity was impossible. Curious, he read on.

“Eliminate the Special Operations Union’s feline-type cyborg.”

Feline-type cyborg? Xie Liu recalled previously encountering such cyborgs—hybrids combining human and feline traits. They looked human but possessed the reflexes and agility of cats. Their fingers often ended in sharp claws. He’d even witnessed one adult feline cyborg snap a ten-centimeter-thick steel beam with a single swipe.

“Feline cyborgs are tough opponents,” Xie Liu frowned. “But if it’s just one, this should be at most a level D mission. How could the difficulty be unknown? And judging by the challenge, an ordinary hunter could handle it. Why deploy our direct squad?”

“You’ll find out if you keep reading,” Vladimir said. Xie Liu glanced down again.

“Hunting Team 3-star hunter Kailide, Level 6 ability: Fiber Tear, died during mission.”

Xie Liu frowned deeper. Unlike the direct squad, ordinary hunters had a seven-star rating system. A 3-star hunter wasn’t the strongest but was still competent. Dying mid-mission was unusual.

“Keep going,” Vladimir urged.

Xie Liu nodded and continued reading.

“Hunting Team 5-star hunter Peter Borus, Level 7 ability: Water Form Control, died during mission.”

His eyebrows shot up. Level 7 was already powerful, and a 5-star hunter was elite. While high ability level didn’t always mean high star rating, a 5-star hunter was guaranteed to be both strong and experienced. Yet, even such a hunter was killed.

“This is getting interesting,” Xie Liu muttered thoughtfully.

“Normally, if a feline cyborg killed a 3-star hunter using some trickery, I might believe it. But taking down a 5-star? That’s unlikely,” Xie Liu said, noticing more details.

“Hunting Team 7-star hunter Goodrian, Level 8 ability: Flame Burst, severely injured and unconscious during mission, still not recovered.”

Xie Liu set down the report. “This mission is definitely strange.”

“That Good… Good-what was when he got hurt?”

“Yesterday. He crashed headfirst into the Hunter’s Club and collapsed, covered in wounds. Clearly, he fought fiercely,” Vladimir said coldly, pushing up his glasses.

Xie Liu tapped his chin. “So, we still don’t know what methods the enemy used to consecutively kill our hunters?”

“Yes,” Vladimir nodded. “The higher-ups decided to send the direct squad to prevent further casualties.”

“You’ve been off for a month, too. Time to get back to work,” Vladimir added with a hint of complaint. Xie Liu chuckled awkwardly. Lin Yang and the others hadn’t returned to school yet, so Vladimir’s only available operative was Xie Liu himself.

“The enemy can take out even level 8 hunters. Me, a level 6, going alone is a death sentence. No way I’m taking this mission without backup. You should send another direct squad,” Xie Liu protested.

“Don’t act like a coward. Yes, you’re level 6, but as a physical mutant, your strength is over ten times the human limit. With just your physique, you can defeat most level 7 ability users. Add your various ocular mutations, and you can even ambush level 8 or 9 experts.”

“Tell me—are you taking this mission or not?” Vladimir asked bluntly. Seeing his serious expression, Xie Liu sighed. “Since you put it that way, I’ll give you some face. But I’m out of gear. Get me some equipment—that’s not too much to ask, right?”

Vladimir’s expression brightened. For him, supplying gear was no problem. “Follow me.” He opened the window and stepped out; Xie Liu followed closely.

…

“This is the Lightning Model 7 sniper rifle. Not quite as good as the Storm series, but much better than your old Thunder series. The reload time for level 5 ammo is down to three minutes,” Vladimir tossed a black guitar case to Xie Liu, who caught it without looking and slung it on his back.

“This is the boomerang blade you mentioned earlier. I had someone craft it for you. Knives like this aren’t common now.” Vladimir threw a katana with its sheath to Xie Liu, who drew it and examined it carefully. The blade gleamed black with a deadly sheen. A narrow blood groove ran from tip to hilt, giving the weapon a chilling elegance.

Xie Liu noticed three bullet holes near the tip, punctured through the spine of the blade. “This knife has six bullet holes, three on each side, and they’re not powered by gunpowder,” Vladimir explained. Xie Liu toyed with it with keen interest.

“I figured. This knife doesn’t need ammo; it’s energy-driven. Its propulsion and braking use jet thrust.” Xie Liu was very pleased. Ever since the Hunter’s Tournament ended, he had wanted his own boomerang blade. Now he finally had it.

“There’s more. Take all of this.” Vladimir revealed additional equipment. Xie Liu nodded.

A tactical belt, gravity grenades, electromagnetic bombs, energy pistol, multifunction combat gloves, a black combat trench coat, and various small tactical components.

“With these, I can single-handedly wipe out a company,” Xie Liu laughed heartily.

Vladimir didn’t deny it. After the Hunter’s Tournament, he understood that Xie Liu and his team’s combat potential was immense, given sufficient gear.

“Alright, pack up and head out. Better finish this mission before classes start. I’m sending you the last known location of the target now.”

A prompt sounded on Xie Liu’s watch, confirming receipt of the data. He nodded, donned the black trench coat, and swallowed a pill.

The bulky figure of before vanished, replaced by a fresh-faced, boyish youth. He reached into his pocket, a hint of surprise on his face. “You even prepared this,” he said, pulling out a lollipop, peeling off the wrapper, and popping it into his mouth.

“All set. I’m off.”