Ch 181: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Outside the door stood two men.

One was very thin, his face pale, the kind of person people instinctively step away from in a crowd, afraid he might collapse in the next second and frame them for compensation.

The other was of medium build, neither fat nor thin, his looks plain and ordinary, the sort of face that would disappear in a crowd without anyone taking a second glance.

The thin man asked in a low voice, “Here?”

“Yeah. We’ve been watching for a few days. He’s been sick lately. Aside from food deliveries and that coworker of his, no one’s visited, and he hasn’t gone out either.”

There was a faint noise from the living room door, and it opened.

The two of them headed straight toward the bedroom.

The bedroom door wasn’t even shut, just loosely closed.

With a creak, the door was pushed open. The bed was messy, still warm, clearly slept in just moments before.

At first, they didn’t think Mu Xing wasn’t home, just assumed he was in the bathroom, or hiding somewhere.

But after a quick search around the place, they confirmed he was gone.

Where did he go?

Went downstairs for a walk?

Nobody would think an ordinary office worker could have known about their plan in advance.

Reluctant, the two searched again, then left.

Next door.

Mu Xing sat slumped against the wall in the neighbor’s living room, stars swimming in his vision.

At the very last second, he remembered his ability—it seemed like he could move through space.

The moment those two men opened the door, he had forced himself to jump into the neighbor’s living room.

But he was completely drained. He couldn’t even stand up to leave.

Mu Xing sat on the floor, trying to recover, listening to the two men ride the elevator down and sit in the parking lot below.

They hadn’t left.

It was clear they hadn’t given up. If Mu Xing showed himself, he would very likely be taken away, just like in the original plot.

He thought in silence for a moment, then called the police.

“Hello, I’d like to report something. I’m a resident of Jiangwan Apartments. I’ve seen some suspicious people hanging around. I think they might be scouting the area for a robbery.”

At first, the police weren’t overly concerned, preparing to just send a few officers to check. But then Mu Xing added, “It looks like they might be carrying guns.”

The operator froze, then asked urgently, “Are you sure?”

Mu Xing thought for a moment. “I don’t think I saw wrong.”

He actually hadn’t seen them—but in the original plot’s memory, when the tall, thin man injected him with a sedative, his eyes had glimpsed something under the other man’s trench coat.

The dispatcher repeatedly told him to stay safe, assuring him they’d send people right away.

Mu Xing added, “Wait, could you also send someone to Building 7, Apartment 702? I need help here.”

*

While waiting for the police, Mu Xing quietly rested, trying to regain some strength while observing the changes in his body.

He could sense a white energy inside him. That was what he had used to teleport just now.

It must be the source of his ability.

But it clearly had limits. He had thought about just teleporting straight to the police station, but it wasn’t possible.

Even moving just across two walls into the neighbor’s living room had drained more than half of it. Still, the energy seemed to be renewable—he could feel it recovering, very slowly, while he rested.

Just as he was about to withdraw his focus, he noticed something odd.

Next to the white cluster of energy, there was a faint, almost invisible green glow.

It was so small and dim compared to the dazzling white that he almost missed it.

In the original plot, the first Mu Xing had been taken away before fully awakening—he never even figured out his own ability.

Mu Xing had guessed it was space-related. But this green light? The story hadn’t mentioned him having a second ability.

Perhaps his arrival had altered the plot a little, causing this change?

From what he knew, green energy usually related to plants.

His eyes drifted around the neighbor’s living room until they landed on a glass vase on the table, holding a small hydroponic pothos plant.

He tried to guide that tiny green speck into the plant.

Before he could observe what happened, a knock sounded at the door.

“I just got your call. Can you open the door?” The policeman outside was clearly cautious, not revealing too much in case the person inside was in danger.

Mu Xing answered, “It’s me. I fell down and can’t get up. Officer, I might need you to force the door open.”

“…”

No one knew exactly how they managed it, but seconds later the living room door was opened.

Two young officers came in and immediately saw the pale young man slumped on the floor, hair plastered to his face with sweat.

They assumed he had fallen and the sweat was from pain, and hurried over, one asking what had happened, the other reaching for his phone to call an ambulance.

Mu Xing quickly said, “Wait. Actually, I didn’t fall.”

The two looked down at him.

And saw the weak young man grin, showing a set of white teeth, his dark eyes sparkling as he said, perfectly serious, “I’m the one who called the police. This isn’t my home. I’m reporting myself for illegally trespassing. Please arrest me.”

The two men: “…”

Actually, before they came, they already knew Mu Xing wasn’t the owner of this apartment.

When Mu Xing gave the address, they had contacted the real owner of unit 702—a young married couple with no children, who happened to be on vacation these few days.

The apartment should have been empty.

In all their years on the job, the two officers had never heard such a bizarre request.

Of course, they were still going to comply with Mu Xing.

But before that, they carefully asked him, “What’s your physical condition? Can you move? Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?”

Only after Mu Xing repeatedly insisted that he didn’t need to go to the hospital, that he was fine, did they help him up.

Then they realized he couldn’t even stand on his own.

The older of the two insisted he had to be taken to the hospital. Mu Xing gritted his teeth and said, “I’m not going to the hospital. I’ll tell you the truth—someone’s trying to kill me. The hospital isn’t safe.”

The two policemen froze.

Mu Xing continued, “Did you find the two men in the parking garage? Did they have guns? I lied. They weren’t thieves. They came here to kill me. I ran into the neighbor’s apartment to save my life.”

The officers exchanged a glance. They didn’t ask further questions. One bent down and carried Mu Xing on his back, and together they left quickly.

As one of them shut the door, his eyes casually landed on the table—where a pothos plant filled nearly the entire dining table. He clicked his tongue in admiration: the neighbors sure knew how to grow a pothos.

*

At the police station, Mu Xing looked so unwell that they gave him a cushion to lean against.

Someone began questioning him about what he had said earlier.

Mu Xing thought for a moment, then said, “I have something very important to report. Can you help me contact a Major Gu Zhao?”

He remembered that, when those people broke into the experimental base, one of them had muttered, “Hurry and report to Major Gu Zhao.”

The police exchanged baffled looks.

One said, “If you have something to say, you can tell us directly.”

Mu Xing closed his eyes briefly, suppressing the waves of dizziness. “It’s urgent. I trust you, but this isn’t a decision you can make.”

Even if they interrogated him here for days, in the end it would still have to be reported upward.

He noticed one officer step out, then return after a while, looking at him oddly.

There really was a Major Gu Zhao—a member of the Imperial Capital’s special forces.

Meanwhile, Mu Xing’s file had already been pulled in full detail—even down to his online shopping history.

He was nothing but an ordinary man. An orphan, went through school, graduated, got a regular job. Aside from being handsome, he was no different from any of the billions of ordinary citizens in Huaguo.

He shouldn’t have known of Major Gu Zhao’s existence, let alone his name and rank.

Yet he had said it so clearly.

Mu Xing was moved into a separate room, with someone assigned to watch him.

Mu Xing asked the guard, “Will Major Gu Zhao come?”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Mu Xing replied, then lifted his head again. “Could I have a blanket? And a glass of water, that would be even better.”

The officer: “…”

The blanket and water were delivered.

Mu Xing drained the cup with effort, his throat finally soothed, then wrapped himself in the blanket, leaned back in the wide chair, and promptly fell asleep.

The officer on watch: “…”

He just fell asleep like that?

*

Mu Xing was woken later.

It was the same guard—Zhang Yucheng—who roused him. Mu Xing caught a whiff of food and saw a lunchbox on the table.

After some rest, his head still swam, but he’d regained a little strength.

He knew it wouldn’t last. In another hour or two, he would likely start burning with fever again, and then collapse.

He was used to it.

“Thank you,” he said politely, picking up chopsticks. But when his hand trembled too much, he switched to a spoon.

Zhang Yucheng, watching, couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sick? How can someone so young be this weak?”

Mu Xing answered, “Something like that. But I’ll be fine soon.”

Zhang pressed on, “Who are you really? What are you trying to do? Those two people you reported—we didn’t catch them. The IDs we pulled from the cameras were fake.”

They suspected foreign spies.

“You said they want to kill you—why?”

Mu Xing kept his head down, eating, and replied only when he had a free moment: “Because they’re crazy.”

Zhang Yucheng: “…”

After eating, Mu Xing politely asked if he could shower, but was refused. At least there was a simple bed in the holding room. He climbed up and soon fell asleep again.

Zhang had never seen anyone this comfortable inside a police station.

The next morning, Mu Xing was pushed awake, groggy.

He was feverish again.

Someone said beside his ear, “The person you wanted to see is here. Wake up.”

Mu Xing’s mind was clear, but his eyelids were too heavy to lift.

Footsteps came in. A flustered voice cried, “Major, he’s burning up—his whole body is hot like fire!”

Then he was lifted up, seemingly carried into a vehicle.

Being taken away again—but this time, Mu Xing felt much more at ease.

He let his consciousness sink lazily into sleep.

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