Chapter 4: You'll Have to Pay for the Button
The rusty tip of the blade swelled to fill his vision.
It carried a pungent stench of blood.
Fifty centimeters.
Thirty centimeters.
The blade sliced through the air with a shrill whistle.
Gu Ye didn't retreat.
He made one tiny movement.
Pivoting on his left heel, he ground outward half an inch.
His right shoulder dropped.
Just that half inch, and the rusty pig-butchering knife slid past his chest.
The edge tore through the fabric of his white coat.
A soft *rippp*.
A small tuft of white cotton batting puffed out.
The fugitive had put everything into that thrust. It hit nothing, and his own massive momentum carried his bulk forward.
His thick, fleshy neck was completely exposed to Gu Ye's line of sight.
Gu Ye's gaze was a precise scalpel.
It pierced straight through the fugitive's coarse skin.
Past the yellowed subcutaneous fat, through the thick trapezius.
Locking directly onto the hollow where the cervical spine met the scapula.
Just below the spinous process of the seventh cervical vertebra.
This was where the body's most fragile neural network lay.
The brachial plexus and cervical sympathetic ganglion clung to the bone surface like a bundle of unguarded cables.
All it took was force punching through the muscle to strike the ganglion dead-on.
No thousand-pound blow required.
It could cut the power to the body's motor system in an instant.
Gu Ye drew his right arm in slightly.
Muscle memory from his max-level combat technique kicked in automatically.
Power traveled from his waist and hips up the spine, converging at the knuckles of his right index and middle fingers.
No wind-up.
No flashy motion.
Barely even a whoosh.
Inch force erupted.
Gu Ye's fist slammed square into that hollow.
*Click.*
A dull, strange sound.
Not a fracture—more like a thick lute string snapped clean through.
Gu Ye pulled his fist back.
Shook out his wrist.
Bones really are hard. Knuckles feel a bit sore.
The fugitive's massive body froze solid.
A second ago he'd been a crazed wild boar.
The next, a machine with its cord yanked out.
No scream.
The nerve impulses driving his vocal cords had been forcibly severed.
Only a strange *ghhk* escaped his throat.
Like a duck being strangled.
Then his two-hundred-plus pounds of flesh lost all support.
Dropped straight down.
*Bang!*
His knees crashed onto the hard concrete.
Splattering two bright bursts of blood.
But that wasn't the end of it.
His upper body pitched forward like mud, chin cracking against the edge of the paint-peeled table.
Two yellowed front teeth flew out and rolled far across the floor.
Finally the whole man collapsed like a boneless slab of meat at Gu Ye's feet.
The fugitive lay face-down.
The pig-butchering knife had fallen to one side, its handle still slick with his sweat.
He wasn't dead.
His heart still beat faintly, his lungs still strained to expand.
But apart from two bloodshot eyeballs rolling wildly, he couldn't lift a pinky.
High-level paraplegia.
Every command from his brain was jammed at the seventh cervical vertebra.
His sphincter gave out.
A stream of pungent yellow liquid trickled from his torn pant leg.
Mingling with the blood on the floor, spreading across the tiles.
His mouth hung half open, thick saliva mixed with bloody water dripping down, pat-pat-pat.
Gu Ye frowned in disgust.
He stepped back half a pace, avoiding the foul-smelling puddle.
Lifted a leg, stepped over the fugitive's limp body.
Didn't spare the man on the ground another glance.
He walked toward the corner.
The new recruit Chen Dabai, who'd been kicked flying earlier, was huddled by the steel cabinet.
Eyes squeezed shut, breathing fast.
Faking unconsciousness.
"Cut the act."
Gu Ye looked down at him.
"Your eyelashes are trembling like a sieve."
Chen Dabai cracked his eyes open, shivering.
Saw Gu Ye standing there completely unharmed.
And that ferocious fugitive lying on the ground like a dead dog, drooling.
Chen Dabai's brain ground to a complete halt.
He opened his mouth, forcing out an expression uglier than crying.
Gu Ye pulled open the bottom drawer of the steel cabinet.
Fished out a blister pack of white pills.
Pressed his thumb hard.
Popped out two belladonna tablets into his palm.
The thermos had been smashed earlier, the hot water spilled.
Gu Ye walked to the sink, picked up a disposable paper cup.
Pulled the stopper from the green plastic thermos beside it.
Poured half a cup of warm water.
He carried the cup back to Chen Dabai.
Knelt down.
Handed over the pills and the cup.
"Take your medicine."
His tone brooked no argument.
Exactly like an attending physician ordering around a disobedient patient.
Chen Dabai reached out with both hands.
They shook like a Parkinson's patient's.
The pills had barely touched his palm before he lost his grip.
Two white tablets slipped through his fingers and hit the floor.
Chen Dabai was about to cry.
He was terrified Gu Ye would punch his neck too, just like he'd paralyzed the fugitive.
Gu Ye sighed.
Resignedly walked back to the steel cabinet.
Popped out two more pills.
This time he didn't let Chen Dabai take them himself.
Stuffed the pills straight into Chen Dabai's mouth, then pressed the cup to his lips.
"Swallow." Gu Ye stared at his Adam's apple.
Chen Dabai gulped down the warm water.
He drank too fast—water ran down his chin into the collar of his camouflage uniform.
"Cough twice," Gu Ye said.
Chen Dabai obediently coughed twice.
"Alright, not stuck in your windpipe."
Gu Ye stood, clapped his hands.
Turned and walked to the sink.
He needed to wash his hands.
That punch had gone through a layer of skin and flesh, but he still felt like his hand was covered in sweat and grime.
Twisted the old-fashioned faucet.
Grabbed the dried-out sulfur soap, worked it in his palm until fine white foam formed.
Just then, ear-piercing police sirens erupted from the dirt road outside the window.
*Wee-woo—wee-woo—*
Red and blue lights flashed frantically through the cracked window glass.
Three police jeeps screeched to a halt.
Tires shrieked against the gravel.
Chaotic footsteps, rough rifle bolts being pulled.
"Move! Surround the clinic!"
"Suspect's got a knife! Watch the hostage!"
The already rickety green-painted wooden door was kicked open hard by a pair of military boots.
*Crash.*
The door panel was completely wrecked, slamming onto the ground and kicking up a ring of dust.
Four black muzzles of Type 95 automatic rifles pointed in at once.
The leading officer's eyes were bloodshot, his forehead drenched in sweat, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Police! Drop your weapons! Nobody move!"
The shout echoed through the cramped clinic.
And then every cop who rushed in froze at the doorway like someone hit pause.
The muzzles didn't know who to point at.
The suspect on the ground had limbs twisted at odd angles.
Staring with bulging eyeballs, bloody drool bubbles popping unconsciously from his mouth.
The new recruit in the corner was clutching a disposable paper cup, letting out a loud burp.
And the medic in the white coat was standing by the sink.
Unhurriedly rubbing soap foam between his hands.
Gu Ye turned his head, looked at the petrified police in the doorway.
Turned off the faucet.