The fleeing man shouted their positions as he ran, and within seconds, twenty or thirty people swarmed the area.
Lin Qiao acted decisively, grabbing Dr. Zhao to flee. But Dr. Zhao insisted on taking Han Yimo, who was already mentally shattered.
Unable to dissuade him, Xiao Xiao hoisted Han Yimo over his shoulder and followed the others in a hasty retreat.
A crowd quickly gathered behind them. Neither Dr. Zhao nor Lin Qiao were strong runners, and Xiao Xiao, burdened with Han Yimo and nursing a self-inflicted thigh wound, was soon overtaken.
The pursuers wielded makeshift clubs and metal rods, swinging them wildly at the four.
Xiao Xiao, lagging behind, desperately activated *Transfer Misfortune*, redirecting the blows meant for him. Yet, for some reason, the attackers remained unaffected—only Han Yimo, slung over his shoulder, screamed louder in agony.
“I can’t take it…” Han Yimo groaned weakly. “Big Sis… just drop me… Why does it hurt more the longer we run?”
“No way!” Xiao Xiao yelled. “If I weren’t carrying you, you’d be dead already! Don’t worry, most of the attacks aimed at us have been *transferred*!”
“*Transferred*…? Then why does it still hurt so much?”
“Oh, well, *Transfer Misfortune* doesn’t have a 100% success rate. It’s about 60%. The pain you feel is probably from the 40% that still hits you,” Xiao Xiao explained earnestly as he ran.
Han Yimo shielded his head, blocking blows while marveling at his own endurance.
If *60%* of the attacks had been redirected and it still hurt this much, the actual number of strikes must have been overwhelming. Yet, he’d never experienced pain like this—it felt like every bone in his body had been shattered.
The mob soon realized their attacks weren’t slowing Xiao Xiao down. One leader shouted, “She has an *Echo*! Stop hitting her! Aim for the ones in front!”
The others, confused whether “she” referred to the runner or the one being carried, simply heard “aim for the front” and surged past Xiao Xiao and Han Yimo, surrounding Dr. Zhao and Lin Qiao.
Before the two could react, clubs and rods rained down on them.
Real brawls weren’t like action movies—no one-on-one duels. It was a chaotic swarm, all striking at their heads and legs with lethal intent.
One hit led to another. Under such an onslaught, ordinary people had no chance.
At the last moment, a flash of movement—a boy appeared before them.
His arrival was sudden, as if he’d squeezed through the air itself or had been standing there invisibly all along.
“Whoa, what’s the big fuss?” His youthful, clear voice startled the crowd.
“Eh?!” Dr. Zhao recognized him instantly. “Kim Won-hoon…?!”
The boy’s sudden appearance made the attackers hesitate, their strikes freezing mid-swing.
“Don’t speak. Follow me.” Won-hoon grabbed their arms, and the three vanished.
The man who could phase through bodies pushed through the crowd, only to find Lin Qiao and Dr. Zhao gone. “They mentioned teammates earlier—must’ve been reinforcements!”
“Damn it…” another man spat. “These damn rebels—just kill them all!”
The mob turned and spotted Lin Qiao and Dr. Zhao just a few steps away. The boy’s *Echo* of vanishing wasn’t as powerful as they’d feared.
“Kill them!” The crowd surged again.
But at the same moment, an explosive sound erupted from the other side—like a missile striking the ground.
Heads turned to see several *Supporters* flung into the air by a massive man. The sight was so terrifying that the surrounding *Supporters* recoiled, clearing a small space.
“Damn… this mess. Hope I’m not hitting the wrong guys!” Zhang Shan’s rough voice boomed.
Lin Qiao squinted—behind Zhang Shan marched over twenty people, many with familiar faces.
Even those who didn’t recognize them sensed something off about this group’s aura.
Chu Tianqiu, draped in a coat, strolled forward casually. “Zhang Shan, sure you don’t need more rest?”
“Hell no! Feels like early morning—refreshed as hell,” Zhang Shan laughed. “But what was that ‘Cangjie Chess’ you mentioned earlier? I only remember bits… can’t piece it together.”
Chu Tianqiu smirked. “If we survive today, I’ll crack open a couple beers and explain.”
“Hah, deal.”
Zhang Shan stepped aside as Chu Tianqiu advanced, the entire group following in his wake.
Their sheer presence forced the *Supporters* back.
Yun Yao, walking beside him, sighed irritably. “Chu Tianqiu, just so we’re clear—I’m not with *Paradise Gate*. I’m only here for Sweetie. Once I find her, I’m gone.”
“Understood.” Chu Tianqiu nodded, then turned. “Li Xiangling, you and Zhang Shan lead the way. We need to meet the leaders of this rebellion ASAP.”
“Got it!” A dark-skinned, striking girl stepped forward, twirling a long staff. “Easy enough.”
Chu Tianqiu then glanced at Won-hoon. “You’re in charge of escorting Dr. Zhao to the destination. I think I know what the *Extremists* are planning.”
“Sure thing, bro.”
Lin Qiao watched, baffled. Though they’d saved her life, what did *Paradise Gate* have to do with this?
The *Paradise Gate* members arriving for backup included Xu Liunian, Glasses, Wen Qiaoyun, and even Yun Yao—who’d long since quit.
“Chu Tianqiu…” Lin Qiao ventured cautiously. “Is there something here that interests you?”
“Interests me?” He smiled. “Why do you ask?”
“I just don’t understand your motive.”
“Then don’t overthink it.” Chu Tianqiu brushed past her and murmured, “I’m just repaying Yan Zhichun for two *words* of kindness.”
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