……

Bang!

Bang!

Bang—

Each heartbeat was like a colossal creature in the deep sea, drawing ever closer—faster, clearer; it pounded violently against his eardrums, drowning out the wailing of the police and the doctors’ frantic shouts.

It was, in fact, the harbinger of an imminent cardiac arrest.

Yet in the instant before Death’s scythe brushed lightly across his throat, his mind was uncommonly lucid. If he had just a bit more strength, he could have voiced his deepest wish: Let it end. The pain is just too much.

It really is too much.

This endless, interminable journey had finally reached the best possible moment for it to end—

The line on the heart monitor climbed higher and faster, like a slender steel wire flung into the sky, vanishing abruptly from everyone’s sight; the next moment, the screen was slashed by a shocking straight line, the alarm blaring with red lights!

—Cardiac arrest!

The young man closed his eyes, his body falling onto the emergency bed, then sinking into the cold, dark depths of the sea.

The world was submerged by tides, spinning away. Countless cries, screams, and shouts all blended together, twisting into abstract fragments, dissolving into nothingness.

In that world of ultimate stillness, he saw that person again.

That glowing white figure passed through frozen time and crowds, gliding lightly to the emergency bed, lowering their head to meet his gaze. He didn’t recall this scene ever happening in his memory, but perhaps it was real, because every detail was so vivid—even the reflections in each other’s eyes seemed within reach.

…Did you really come? he thought vaguely.

His gravely injured, dying body suddenly felt weightless, all pain melting away. He slowly sat up from his broken body, filled with calm and anticipation, reaching out to that radiant white figure.

—Are you here to take me away?

The white figure did raise a hand; their fingers intertwined, palms pressed together, as if all pain and torment had never happened. He couldn’t help but smile, but in the next instant, he saw those familiar eyes fixed on him, overflowing not with the joy of reunion, but with an indescribable sorrow.

He froze, watching as the white figure mouthed each word silently:

Go back, Logan Clark—

Go back. From many years ago, from before all the upheaval began, you were destined to survive, to keep moving forward, to pass through villages consumed by flames, to cross devastated lands, never to look back—

Logan Clark panicked, gripping that translucent hand tightly, but no words would come. The white figure gave one last gentle, apologetic smile, then pushed his palm forcefully!

Bang!

It was actually soundless, yet it felt like a thunderous explosion, shaking everyone’s eardrums.

The young man’s body jolted from the electric shock, crashing back down, his lifeless limbs suddenly convulsing!

“Sinus rhythm restored!”

“There’s a heartbeat!”

……

Cheers, applause, and hysterical laughter and tears erupted inside and outside the operating room. Light pierced the deep water, an invisible force lifting him through the sea of blood, until he burst through the surface, enveloped in dazzling brightness.

Logan Clark, unconscious, opened his scarred eyes. In that moment, all the clamor receded like the tide, leaving only the faintest sigh, drifting away into the void.

Your name is forever engraved beneath the earth, your soul reborn from death—

“Director Cooper, Director Cooper!” A technical investigator rushed down the corridor, not even pausing to wipe his sweat, thrusting a tablet in front of Director Cooper: “Latest dark web intel intercepted by cyber security, posted less than five minutes ago. We’re urgently tracking the transmission path, but can’t locate the IP yet. Please look!”

Director Cooper glanced down, and in that split second, the smile on his face froze completely.

It was a webpage with a pure black background, the URL a string of random characters ending in .clos, the sender’s ID a string of unclickable characters. In the center of the screen was a two-inch ID photo: the person in the photo had well-shaped brows and downcast eyes, an expressionless face, features so perfectly proportioned they seemed sculpted from ivory; the bloodless lips naturally turned down, quietly drooping, as if he’d never smiled in his life, and his slender neck disappeared neatly into the collar of a black shirt.

Everyone was familiar with the subject of this photo—he had just barely escaped death in the emergency room.

“……” Director Cooper’s fingers trembled as he scrolled down, and sure enough, several lines of huge red characters leapt out, each stroke so bloody it made one’s heart race:

[WANTED]

“Real name unknown, codename ‘Artist’, male. Traceable activity throughout the Golden Triangle, served the mainland Chinese police for twelve years. Latest bounty: 108.2409 BTC for his head. 5.4121 BTC for information on his whereabouts.”

“Execution must be recorded on video as proof.”

“Partial body parts may be accepted for a higher price, head negotiable.”

It was something they could have foreseen, but no one expected it to come so quickly, so brazenly.