Under the cover of night, an old farm truck sped down the country road. It kicked up clouds of dust across the barren plains, its flickering headlights barely working, a testament to its dilapidation. The driver gave the radio a firm smack, and the ancient machine sputtered back to life, emitting bursts of electronic noise mixed with scraps of music.
Yep, music was just background noise—the real main act was that hissing, crackling electronic static.
“Damn this old piece of junk, can’t anybody fix it?” the driver grumbled, but he knew there was no point. The radio wasn’t busted because of itself, but because this battered truck was loaded with all sorts of other ‘contraptions.’ As long as those things were running and pumping out electromagnetic interference, swapping out a hundred radios wouldn’t help.
No matter how tight the management, there were always loopholes—or, let’s be real, special folks who didn’t care about the rules. The guy driving was exactly that type. His sister was married to the lab’s logistics supervisor, who oversaw all the support operations, including the surface farm.
As the supervisor’s brother-in-law—and head of the farm department—this seasoned driver could sneak off to the nearby town for some fun and nobody would bat an eye.
Even the strict, no-nonsense Control Center didn’t bother him, especially when they saw that familiar signal drifting away. After all, the center relied on his brother-in-law to supply their daily essentials. Plus, this old driver wasn’t completely reckless—he never went too far. At most, he’d drive fifty kilometers out to the little town for a drink or a quick hookup. Nothing more, nothing less.
Besides, folks at the Control Center enjoyed a bit of drama too.
The Control Center’s reach went way beyond those obvious cameras everyone knew about.
Out here on the empty plains, there was nothing to worry about. He floored the gas, and in just half an hour, the town appeared on the horizon. The truck rolled up to an old bar like it’d been there a hundred times. The engine coughed out a puff of black smoke and died. The driver, about thirty-five or thirty-six, hopped out, pushed open the saloon-style doors, and walked into a noisy crowd.
"Hey, Dick Carroll, how’s your farm doing? Can anything besides tumbleweeds grow out there?"
"Yo, Dick Carroll, here to chase after Marilyn again? Aren’t you scared her husband’s gonna knock your teeth out?"
After greeting every oddball and misfit in the place, Dick Carroll kicked off his night with a shot of strong liquor. Meanwhile, back at the Control Center, someone switched the display channel—the monitor was showing exactly what Dick was seeing.
“Damn, this thing is awesome.” Monitor A picked up his coffee and slouched in his chair. “Such a clear picture, almost no lag, and it runs on nothing but human bioelectricity. Not long ago, you needed a device the size of a phone to get this working.”
“Manchester Lab whipped this up—they’ve made huge breakthroughs in nanotech lately,” Monitor B replied, sprawled in his own chair. “Oh, look, he’s chasing after Marilyn again! There’s a rec room at the lab, but he’d rather mess with that wildcat. Guy’s got weird tastes. And hey, don’t let him find out we’re watching; he’d tear us to pieces.”
“Honestly, I think his taste is pretty normal. No virtual gear in the rec room beats the real thing. Marilyn’s basically the town’s top flower—those big boobs, even through the monitor, you gotta admit, it’s a sight.” For some folks, perfect surveillance was the ultimate guilty pleasure.
“You could go too,” Monitor B clapped A on the shoulder, all friendly. “I’ll ask the boss to give you a field assignment. With Marilyn, it’s easy—she’ll go with anyone who chats her up. Just a little flirting and she’s yours.”
“No thanks, no thanks. I’m not looking for a lesson from her six-foot-four, three-hundred-pound husband. That big slab of meat might be grumpy, but he’s not dumb. He’s definitely onto something lately.” A said confidently, “I’ll bet five breaks that tonight he’s gonna leave a few marks on Dick’s face.”
“You’re on!” B downed his coffee. “But if he really gets caught, that visual monitor’s probably getting smashed. Then we’ll need an excuse to jab him with another dose.”
After so much surveillance, Dick’s first-person adventures were basically a soap opera for the monitors. Sure, the show was nothing special, but it made the long, boring shifts a bit more bearable. Tonight’s episode was just like the rest: drinking, bragging, trying not to spill secrets, and stumbling off to chase after Marilyn.
Watching first-person footage for too long made you dizzy, but duty called—so the two monitors stuck it out.
Then, to Monitor A’s delight, the Flesh Hulk actually caught Dick Carroll in the act. The two monitors watched as the big guy tossed Dick around like a rag doll. Dick tried to fight back, landing a punch on the Hulk’s face, but that only made him madder. With his face red as a beet, the Flesh Hulk threw a heavy punch straight at the ‘camera’—bam! The screen went black.
“Alright, show’s over. Don’t forget, you owe me five hours on shift—starting now.”
“Fine, fine, you win. But I need to go puke first—damn motion sickness!”
Both got up and headed to the bathroom to puke—first-person dizziness is real pain. (If you haven’t felt it, go watch the action flick ‘Hardcore Henry.’) Still, the smart surveillance system from Manchester Lab could handle almost anything.
This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, click next page to keep reading!
Meanwhile, fifty kilometers away in the little town, the Flesh Hulk and his wife were in the middle of a screaming match inside their rundown shack. Dick Carroll, butt naked, got tossed out the door and landed with a thud in the dark alley by the garbage. He was half-dead, groaning, and couldn’t get up.
Up on the tiled rooftop, Jill Young was lurking in the shadows, dressed all in black. Next to her, Dream Monroe hovered like a ghostly sidekick, her wings spread silently. She glowed with a hazy aura, but no one noticed her—not the naked eye, not even the surveillance tech. Only Jill had to worry about hiding.
Right now, Jill Young was deep in stealth mode.
“Even in this backwater, there are three cameras—one obvious, two tiny pinhole ones. The Zade family is definitely not slacking off around here.” With a quick scan, Jill mapped out the blind spots. She flicked her finger—whoosh! A thin gust shot out from the darkness.
Dick Carroll, still groaning on the ground, suddenly jolted as if he’d been zapped with strength and managed to stagger to his feet. He shook his head, stumbled along the wall, but after a few steps—another flick of Jill’s finger sent him crashing into a hidden corner, totally knocked out and off the surveillance grid.
With feline grace, Jill Young flipped down to the window of the shack. A swirl of internal energy sucked up all the clothes scattered by the bed into her hand. She stashed them, sprang past the cameras, and dragged the unconscious naked man deeper into the shadows.
No questions asked—her left hand tapped a few acupoints, while her right whipped out a tablet and scanned him from head to toe—beep, scan complete.
“Whoa, don’t let his bare butt fool you—he’s got plenty of gadgets on him.” Jill eyed the tablet, noting several signal sources. She pressed her left hand to his chest, pouring Supreme Skill into his body for a deeper scan.
Her internal energy surged through his meridians like wildfire, burning away every impurity. Anything not part of his body was forced to the surface. Then she tapped his chest bone—thud, thud—the vibrations rippled through his skeleton and nerves, gathering data and combining it with her martial scan. In seconds, she had the most detailed readout of the naked guy, inside and out.
Her scan was way more detailed than the tablet’s—she even found hidden tricks the tech couldn’t spot.
“Ugh!” The internal energy and force jolted the guy awake, but panic set in—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a finger or make a sound. Eyes wide, he tried to figure out what was happening, but Jill slapped his head and knocked him out again.
“There’s something weird lurking in his blood around his eyes—stuff the scan can’t pick up. Definitely not good, must be connected to his vision. The Zade family’s black tech is wild, so looks like I’ll need to do a little surgery.” Jill raised her finger, and a streak of Sword Qi shot out, shrinking and sharpening until it was less than an inch long and razor sharp.
The mini Sword Qi glowed dark red, sharp as a scalpel—her surgical tool. Jill admired it, nodding with satisfaction. This kind of control would stun most martial arts masters; there weren’t many in the world who could match it.
A few quick swipes, and Jill carved several cuts around the driver’s eyes. She pumped in internal energy, and blood spurted out, clearing the area.
Next up: the eye sockets.
The eye socket sits behind the eyeball, near the brain. If you want to clean out the junk in there, there’s only one way…
Jill glanced back at Dream Monroe. “Heads-up—what’s about to happen is strictly for dark lords and surgeons. If you can’t handle it, go look at the scenery.”
“You think I’m a kid? Go ahead, do your thing!” Dream Monroe pouted. Look down on me? If I blink, I lose!
“Alright, here goes.” Jill hovered her hand over Dick’s eyes, then stabbed down—thwack! Sword Qi sliced through muscle, blood sprayed everywhere. Dick jerked awake, veins bulging, body convulsing, skin flushed red, sweat pouring down. But except for a faint groan, he couldn’t make a sound.
The brutal scene made Dream Monroe suck her teeth in sympathy.
Jill barked, voice booming into Dick’s soul: “Don’t move! If you twitch and I slice your eyeball, that’s on you!”
Yep, it looked bloody as hell, but the Sword Qi didn’t blind him. The razor-sharp energy sliced alongside his nose, skimming the eyeball and plunging straight to the socket.
Whether he understood or was just scared stiff by Jill’s Lion’s Roar, Dick immediately froze. Sweat poured down, and he didn’t even dare move his eyes.
Blending in White Rainbow Palm, the Sword Qi twisted and probed like a shell probe. Jill instantly understood what was up. Her left hand pressed his head, internal energy surged, and her right hand switched from attack to pull. With a pop, Jill yanked her finger out—and with it, a big chunk of clotted blood from his eye socket.
With a flick, Jill sent the blood splattering onto the ground. Whatever was in it, now it was just a stain—totally useless.
With the nasty stuff gone, Jill patted Dick’s face, tapped his acupoints to stop the bleeding, and put on her best interrogation face.
“Dick Carroll,” she read off his work badge with professional poise, “do you know why I didn’t just pop your eyeball?”
Dick couldn’t say a word, and Jill didn’t expect him to. Her face was shadowed, looking every bit the demon lord, as she slowly explained, “Because your cornea might still be useful—just like your hands.”
Dick’s eyes widened in terror, blood flooding his sockets, turning everything crimson. His feeble spirit was no match for the demon lord’s torment. Jill’s shadow swallowed him whole, trapping him in endless fear.
“I could rip out your eyeball, chop off your hand, or just leave you be. Your life doesn’t matter to me. Kill or spare, I don’t care. Whatever gets me into that damned lab—I just want in.” In the blood-red world, the demon lord bared her sharp white teeth. “Maybe you can help me find a less brutal way in, don’t you think?”