Chapter Twenty-One: Reunion

Yang Luo descended the stairs and stepped onto the street.

The figure that had once belonged to Wang Ruo was up ahead, about a few dozen meters away.

But at this point, there was no need to refer to him as "Team Leader" any longer.

Yang Luo recalled his real name—Wang Ruo.

The streetlamps cast a dim glow, and Wang Ruo’s silhouette flickered in and out of view.

It was already past ten-thirty at night. Perhaps only an owl could see clearly at such an hour, but Yang Luo’s eyes were as sharp as an electronic sensor; once his gaze locked onto someone, escape was nearly impossible.

Keeping a measured distance, not too close nor too far, Yang Luo followed Wang Ruo, his footsteps silent and soundless.

Beneath the peak of his cap, Yang Luo’s eyes were icy cold.

And Wang Ruo ahead, utterly unaware, walked on, oblivious to the extraordinary being trailing him—one who had returned from the very edge of death.

His pace was leisurely, hands tucked in his pockets, exuding not the slightest sense of danger.

As he watched that familiar figure, a complex tide of emotion surged in Yang Luo’s heart.

He had worked with this man for three years, once considering him an excellent superior—competent at his job, technically skilled, never wielding his authority with arrogance. He’d even take into account their age difference during work, addressing Yang Luo with a respectful “big brother.”

Yet this very man, when Yang Luo was felled by a heart tumor and could no longer work, facing his darkest despair, had cast him aside with unthinking coldness.

He’d soothed Yang Luo with false kindness to keep him calm, secretly altered his attendance records to change his paid leave into absenteeism, and watched him in meetings to see if he was secretly recording anything.

In the end, he’d helped the company get rid of Yang Luo with a mere eighty thousand yuan.

Whenever Yang Luo remembered this, a deep-seated resentment welled up within him, impossible to dispel.

Trailing Wang Ruo, Yang Luo’s thoughts churned with memories of the past, and an intense anger ignited in his chest.

Such callous betrayal was already hateful enough, but what Wang Ruo and that HR, Huang Cheng, had done was akin to throwing an ice block onto his bare body, already lying exposed in the freezing snow.

"Deal with you first, then Huang Cheng... The pain I once suffered, you both will taste it."

A cold, frosty smile crept onto Yang Luo’s lips.

He intended to follow Wang Ruo into a blind spot of the surveillance cameras, and there, let him witness his current power.

He had no intention of killing Wang Ruo.

Though he had undergone a transformation at the very core of his being, becoming truly extraordinary,

his mindset remained rooted in the past; Yang Luo still held the law and society’s rules in reverence.

Even so, if not death, at least severe injury was deserved.

Now, Yang Luo could perfectly control the subtle difference in strength between “killing” and “maiming.”

Moreover, as his body changed, he sensed his ability to manipulate his power with ever-greater precision.

The “hidden energy” described in martial arts novels—the kind where a single punch plants a force that explodes days later, leaving a man half-paralyzed—such mythic feats were now within Yang Luo’s reach.

Step by step, he shadowed Wang Ruo. The distance was only a few dozen meters, something he could traverse in an instant.

His hands were beginning to heat up.

He was ready to make his move.

But as Yang Luo advanced, a strange unease crept over him.

Why hadn’t Wang Ruo called a cab tonight?

He’d known Wang Ruo as a colleague for years and knew roughly where his family lived—he was a native of Qingxia City, residing in another district, with a daily commute of at least a dozen kilometers.

Normally, Wang Ruo worked until two or three in the morning and only then caught a cab home. Why, tonight, was he walking such a long way?

Was he planning to take the bus?

But there seemed no reason to avoid taking a cab just for public transport.

Curiosity stirred in Yang Luo’s mind, and the tension in his body loosened. He decided to see what Wang Ruo was up to.

He didn’t have to wait long. After a few minutes, Wang Ruo stopped.

He halted in front of what appeared to be a convalescent facility.

Narrowing his eyes, Yang Luo watched Wang Ruo enter the building.

Not long after, Wang Ruo emerged—this time pushing a wheelchair.

Seated in the chair was a girl of about thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a white skirt.

Yang Luo stayed in the shadow of the streetlight, a dark thicket behind him.

He watched as Wang Ruo pushed the wheelchair. The girl’s mouth was slightly askew, her eyes dull and unfocused, a strange smile on her face. Her features were delicate, almost pretty, but the effect was unsettling.

A few strands of hair fell across her forehead, and through them, a long, thin scar was faintly visible.

Though separated by several dozen meters, when Yang Luo strained to listen, he easily caught the conversation between Wang Ruo and the girl.

“Lulu, how are you today? Did you have a good day at the home?”

“It was good… Big Sister gave Lulu some candy… but I was a little unhappy…”

“Oh? Why? Did someone bully you?”

“No, when I went for a walk this afternoon, Lulu had a tummy ache… Lulu cried…”

“There, there, don’t cry. The pain is gone now. You have to eat well, okay?”

“Mm, Lulu eats well, always eats well… But brother never eats with Lulu, it feels so lonely…”

“It’s alright, isn’t brother here now?”

“Brother comes one day, two days… then disappears for many days…”

“Brother has to work, you know, or he can’t pay for Lulu’s hospital bills.”

“Lulu doesn’t have to leave the hospital… as long as I’m with brother…”

“…Don’t say that. That won’t do.”

Their voices drifted over from not too far away.

As they spoke, Yang Luo suddenly recalled how, every week from Monday to Thursday, Wang Ruo would always go home late, but on Fridays, he’d leave much earlier—usually between ten and eleven at night.

Perhaps that hadn’t been a matter of random whim.

Just then, as Wang Ruo took out his phone to call a cab, Yang Luo slipped from the shadows.

His steps were swift and silent, passing through a surveillance blind spot like a fleeting shadow, and suddenly he was beside Wang Ruo.

Seeing a man in a peaked cap abruptly appear at his side, Wang Ruo’s hand holding the phone froze.

He wheeled the girl—Lulu—behind him, shielding her, and looked warily at Yang Luo.

“…Excuse me, who are you?”

Removing his cap, Yang Luo smiled faintly.

“Heh. Team Leader, have you already forgotten me so soon?”