Chapter Thirty: The Eccentric Old Man, Uncle Nan

Taking advantage of the moment, Zhao Bai hoisted Mo Xiaoxiao onto his back and broke into a run with all his strength. He realized that staying behind would not only be useless but would also hold Xiao Zhang back, so escaping with Mo Xiaoxiao was the only option.

Oda Shinichiro seized the opportunity to launch a sneak attack, his fist slamming into Xiao Zhang’s shoulder. Xiao Zhang staggered backward, half his body numb from the blow.

“Hm?” Oda Shinichiro’s eyes flashed with surprise as he shook his aching wrist. “Didn’t expect you to be so tough. Resentful Wraith, you deal with him!”

The ghost merely sneered. “Let’s finish this one off first. He’s managed to get on my nerves.”

Xiao Zhang narrowed his eyes and spoke coldly, “Are you truly willing to make an enemy of Shadow Isle?” He knew he had to take down at least one of them; otherwise, he would never be able to protect Zhao Bai and Mo Mo on his own.

Without hesitation, Xiao Zhang lunged forward, swinging his wrench and kitchen knife at Oda Shinichiro.

Oda Shinichiro, surprised to find himself suppressed, could do little but retreat and dodge as Xiao Zhang pressed the attack with his makeshift weapons. Sparks flew as the kitchen knife struck Oda’s clothing, which, astonishingly, repelled the blade with metallic flashes.

After a furious flurry of blows, Oda’s clothes were shredded, revealing a dark green suit of protective armor underneath.

The assault failed to bring Oda down, and he soon retaliated, landing a hard kick to Xiao Zhang’s stomach that sent him flying.

“Foolish wretch. Not everyone can withstand my cannon kick,” Oda sneered. “Resentful Wraith, hurry up. We need to go.”

Xiao Zhang felt as if his intestines had been twisted into a knot. He silently cursed—how could that hurt even more than a gunshot?

The ghost’s blade came down on Xiao Zhang, who blocked with his wrench, jeering, “Was that kick supposed to tickle me?”

Xiao Zhang launched into a rapid combination of strikes with his knife and wrench, fierce and unrelenting, but the ghost’s swordsmanship was formidable, parrying every blow with ease.

Oda Shinichiro smirked, about to speak, when his communicator crackled to life. “Boss, what’s happening?”

“Their organization is making a move. You must withdraw within fifteen minutes!”

“Understood!”

Furious, Oda Shinichiro nearly smashed his phone. Watching the deadlock between his companion and Xiao Zhang, he spat, “Die!”

Oda pressed his palms together, and circular sigils flared beneath the combatants' feet. “Death Ritual!”

Agonized screams erupted as both men were engulfed in a crimson glow, their bodies slowly dissolving within the magic circle, their cries fading into silence.

“Damn you, Oda! You destroyed one of my avatars!” A shadowy figure emerged from Oda Shinichiro, dressed like a ninja.

Oda snorted, sneering at the ghost. “We have thirteen minutes left. If we don’t leave, we’re both finished.” With that, he chuckled darkly and took off in the direction Zhao Bai had fled.

“Wasted one of my avatars for nothing,” the ghost muttered, collecting his spider-shaped totem from the circle. He noticed half of Xiao Zhang’s body was still breathing, but instead of finishing him off, he said, “A pity. If only you were still whole, you’d have made a perfect puppet. Die in agony, then!” Out of a twisted kindness, he erased the remnants of the ritual before departing in haste—losing a mask and an avatar was bad enough, but if he didn’t get that knife, it would be a total loss.

Moments after the ghost had gone, the old man Xiao Zhang had met before finally arrived, puttering up on his little scooter. Seeing the remains of Xiao Zhang, he let out a pained sigh, “Damn it, what a waste. Such a promising seedling, gone like this.”

But within seconds, Xiao Zhang’s body began to regenerate, flesh knitting itself together until he was once more nearly whole.

The old man could only stare, dumbfounded. Even when turned to pulp, the man could revive?

A few minutes later, Xiao Zhang crawled out of the mess of his own remains. Seeing the old man still frozen in shock, he asked, “Are you alright?”

The old man snapped his jaw shut and cursed, “What kind of monster are you?”

Xiao Zhang suspected the old man was no ordinary person. He hesitated, then said, “Sir, I don’t know who you are, but please—help me find my friends. They’re in danger now.”

“Don’t call me sir. Call me Brother Nan!” The old man struck a jaunty pose. “Hop on, Brother Nan will take you to rescue the ladies!”

Xiao Zhang glanced at the eccentric old man, considered for a moment, and climbed aboard.

“Put on the helmet,” the old man said.

Xiao Zhang refused. “I don’t need it.”

“Idiot, it’s to cover your face. Unless you want everyone to see you running naked down the street, I don’t care.”

Xiao Zhang realized with dismay that his clothes had been completely dissolved, so he silently took the helmet.

Meanwhile, Zhao Bai had already been caught up by the two pursuers. If they’d wanted to kill him, he’d have been dead long ago. Still, Mo Xiaoxiao was seized by the Resentful Wraith, and even his prized knife was stolen.

Oda Shinichiro sized up Zhao Bai, impressed by his willpower. If time weren’t so tight, he’d have liked to take Zhao Bai as well.

Summoning the last of his strength, Zhao Bai pulled something from his pocket and hurled it at Oda’s head.

Oda simply tilted his head, watching as an iPhone spun past. He sneered, “Idiot, who—”

But before he could finish, a rush of wind behind him—

Crack!

A wrench crashed into the back of his skull. “Baka!”

Before he could recover, Xiao Zhang’s kitchen knife slammed into his shoulder.

“Baka!” Oda Shinichiro’s face twisted with rage. “I didn’t intend to kill anyone! But you’re asking for death!”

He raised his right hand above his head, golden flames blooming in his palm. With a roar, he brought it crashing down toward Zhao Bai.

At the last possible moment, Xiao Zhang leapt from the motorcycle, tackling Oda Shinichiro aside.