Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 933: Lighting a Cigarette, Sitting Down to Reminisce

When the metal plate clanged loudly as it hit the ground, Lin Sanjiu realized that it wasn't a door but a piece of wall that had been severed from the inside.

The tower blocked the light, casting a perfect sphere of darkness that enveloped the figure. Instead of rushing out of the shadow, the person halted their steps. With a thud, they leaned against the remnants of the slender tower, calmly assessing the approaching group.

Percival Levin stopped in his tracks, and Lin Sanjiu quickly stood a few steps away.

"Light!"

The tall man suddenly shouted in anger, and his voice shook everyone present. Half of the newly arrived members of the Munitions Factory interrupted their rescue efforts and surrounded the Commander's Tower from near and far. As soon as the commander finished speaking, a thick beam of white light shot toward the figure.

As the person raised their hand to shield their eyes from the intense light, everything about them, except for their eyes, was clearly revealed in the blinding radiance. It was a man—Lin Sanjiu could only discern that much for now. He was of average height, broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, and his clothing seemed haphazardly thrown together, as if he had grabbed whatever was within reach. He wore a leather jacket, a floral shirt, and work pants, creating a mismatched ensemble.

"Very well," Percival Levin said coldly as he pulled out two gloves from his pocket and slowly slid one hand into one of them. "I didn't miss the chance to get to know you."

"Don't worry," the man chuckled and put his hand down. "I had planned to give you that honor as well."

Lin Sanjiu's gaze was immediately drawn to his eyes.

At first glance, he appeared young, with smooth skin and thick hair, giving off a likable vibe. However, certain details on his face, such as his eyes deeply recessed into the eye sockets and the clear bone structure beneath his thin skin, hinted that he was no longer young.

But what really made her recognize him at first glance was the expression in his eyes—a distinctly human pair of eyes, black and white, reminiscent of the unblinking gaze of a reptile.

Lin Sanjiu clenched her lips tightly and forcibly swallowed the words "It's you!" Her hands, hanging by her sides, formed white-knuckled fists.

It was him!

She couldn't be mistaken. He was the one who had planted an explosive device on the aircraft, nearly killing Yu Yuan, and then vanished without a trace from the flying sky bus. He hadn't faced Lin Sanjiu directly, at least not without her mask. If she could act naturally and make him believe that she was unaware of his identity...

As she composed her expression and steadied her breathing, a second figure emerged from the tower, bending over as they walked out.

Even Percival Levin was taken aback. Then, he sneered, "Right. It would be difficult for a single person to infiltrate the Commander's Tower."

Lin Sanjiu took a deep breath to steady herself, but it got caught in her chest, freezing her in place.

As if deliberately arranged for some dramatic effect, the attire of the second person was in complete contrast to the first. Even the most refined gentlemen of early 20th century England would find it difficult to dress more impeccably than him. Every thread, every fold, and every button on the neatly tailored fabric was meticulously taken care of. He gently took off his soft felt hat, and a few strands of hair fell over his eyes. Pressing the hat against his chest, he slightly lowered his head in Lin Sanjiu's direction.

"Long time no see," Gong Daoyi put the hat back on, and the shadow once again covered his delicate and androgynous face. He smiled faintly, his teeth appearing even whiter in the shadows. "You haven't changed a bit, just like before."

Percival Levin abruptly turned around and stared at her, like a hawk ready to swoop down from the sky. "Do you know him?"

Lin Sanjiu took a deep breath. Surprised, a jumble of thoughts instantly flooded her mind, leaving her at a loss for words. Even Percival Levin's question seemed to pass by her ears like a breeze.

"We fought together before," Gong Daoyi's tone was so elegant and polite, it was hard to believe that he was responsible for the flames, the pungent smoke, the smell of blood, and the countless corpses around them. "But I guess what you really want to know isn't that."

Percival Levin turned around abruptly and lightly wiped his right hand. He stared at Gong Daoyi and whispered a single word, "Oh?"

Gong Daoyi didn't rush to answer.

He turned his head and glanced at the still-burning corpses, sighing. "Please accept my condolences. I deeply regret your losses." As he spoke softly, he beckoned to one of the bodies that intermittently flickered in the flames.

With a sudden movement, the arm of the corpse slipped and fell to the ground with a "clatter." Then, using its deformed and charred hand, it propped itself up from the ground and wobbled to its feet. In the stunned gazes of the onlookers, the corpse emitted a scorching light and heat as it slowly walked into the encirclement of the Munitions Factory.

"Release his corpse!" someone shouted from the crowd, "Haven't you killed enough people?"

Gong Daoyi glanced briefly in the direction of the voice. It was a young woman with a flushed face, her cheeks glistening with sweat or tears. Several Munitions Factory members nearby tensed up and took a couple of steps closer, standing protectively beside her. The man wearing a gentleman's hat smiled slightly and shook his head. "I haven't killed anyone."

The charred and fragmented corpse, shimmering with dazzling flames, gradually approached Gong Daoyi. He turned around, took out an exquisite cigarette case from his pocket.

"Unfortunately," Gong Daoyi tapped the cigarette case and took out a cigarette, then put the case away. With the cigarette in his mouth, he remained calm and composed. "I ran out of matches... So you see, I'm just borrowing a light."

As he spoke, he slightly bent down, leaning closer to the still-burning shoulder of the corpse. The fire illuminated his narrow and handsome face, as if the dark corpse was caressing his contours with its fiery glow. The tip of the cigarette suddenly turned red, and a puff of smoke escaped from Gong Daoyi's mouth, blurring his features.

With a wave of his hand, the corpse fell heavily back onto the ground and remained motionless.

"You... tell me, what's going on?" Lin Sanjiu took a step forward, her fingertips trembling. "This person... this person is..."

The man, dressed haphazardly and of indeterminate age, continued to lean against the tower, holding his arms. Upon hearing her words, he suddenly laughed and spoke in a muffled voice, his words slurred, "We must have met before, right? I know who you are, but I never properly introduced myself. Hello,"

As he said this, almost sarcastically, he exaggeratedly imitated Gong Daoyi and bent down towards her, "They call me 12."