Chapter 21: Wilson in the Underground Passage

Target confirmed, Mr. Wilson, and a pair of metal wings!

"I need to use this wooden box, and I will try my best to find your husband, but I can't guarantee that I will definitely find him." Holding the wooden box, Wen Wen walked out of the villa.

"I hope you can definitely help me find him. What would I do without him?"

Melissa grasped Wen Wen's hand, said sorrowfully, and simultaneously slipped an envelope into Wen Wen's hand. Wen Wen gently pinched it, felt its thickness, and his promise to Melissa became even more sincere.

Walking on the street, Wen Wen took out a small vest, an article of clothing that retained Wilson's scent, which could help Wen Wen locate Wilson.

Actually, the scent on the underwear was stronger… but Wen Wen did not want to sniff a man's underwear in the middle of the street.

Then, he deeply sniffed the wooden box. The wood had a unique fragrance, and the wings that had been kept in the box for years had likely absorbed some of that scent.

"With these two scents, though I can't directly locate him, I can at least pinpoint his direction and save quite a bit of trouble."

His keenly trained sense of smell came in handy here. Wen Wen chose a direction and chased after it. After covering a significant distance, the scent disappeared.

"Next, I'll have to rely on the old methods to find him."

After scanning his surroundings, Wen Wen entered a store. Before becoming a superpower user, he had been a detective, and searching for people, even without the aid of special abilities, was something he could manage.

Finding a person with distinct characteristics was not especially difficult for Wen Wen.

Following various clues, by nightfall, Wen Wen found an underground clinic.

Based on the information he gathered, this clinic specialized in shady deals. Criminals wanted by the police and members of the underworld from Furong River City liked to come here after getting injured.

Wen Wen knocked on the door but received no response. His pupils suddenly contracted as he smelled the scent of blood and... the rotting smell of humans!

He kicked the door open and was met with a scene inside the clinic resembling a slaughterhouse!

...

In an underground passage, a muscular Wilson, dressed in tight clothes, huddled in a corner, looking rather pitiful.

All his original clothes were covered in blood; this outfit belonged to the clinic's owner, hence the ill fit.

Wilson muttered to himself, "I don't know if you can understand, but could you not take action on your own all the time? If you don't want to get off me, then listen to me, okay?"

No response came from behind him, but the cold touch was real. These few days had been utterly insane for Wilson.

Truth be told, he wasn't even sure if he had gone mad himself.

Under his jacket, there was a large bulge that made him appear to have a severe hunchback.

But only Wilson knew that behind him was a pair of steel wings, unfolded and stretching over four meters wide!

He had purchased these wings from the chief of a Native Tribe in the Aifei Region. They were a sacred object worshipped by the tribe.

But the chief did not tell his tribesmen that he had sold the wings, he claimed they were stolen, so the people of the tribe searched everywhere nearby for traces of the wings.

They sent out messages, vowing to subject the thief who stole the sacred object to the most severe punishment unto death!

Though Wilson had some wealth, he did not want to face constant danger to his life, so he took his family and the steel wings and moved to the Capital District to live.

As for why he did not return the wings to the natives, he felt a faint connection with the wings when he bought them, and now that he had them, he was even less inclined to give them back.

He had carried the wings with him for over a year and though Wilson would stroke them alone during the quiet of the night, they never showed any sign of their marvels.

But a few days ago, while playing with them, he accidentally cut his finger on the wings, and then the wings attached themselves to his back and no matter what he tried, he could not remove them!

The wings had their own consciousness; they did not require Wilson's consent to act, so to keep his family out of danger, Wilson chose to leave home.

However, after a few days of adjustment, the wings became somewhat more restrained, at least when there was no severe provocation, they were willing to lie dormant on Wilson's back.

"In a few more days, a few more days... if it stops causing trouble, I want to go home for a visit, then leave here and find a place where there are no people, never to return."

Wilson did not want to be seen as a monster. On the first day the thing possessed him, he went to an underground doctor, hoping to have it separated from his back.

The doctor anesthetized Wilson until he was knocked out, and the wings seemed to have lost their vitality, but as the doctor approached Wilson with a scalpel, the wings suddenly lashed out, impaling the doctor, followed by a bloody massacre.

When Wilson woke up, he found that in this small underground clinic, there was no one else alive except for him.

It was then that Wilson realized it was basically impossible to remove this thing, and he should no longer think about returning to his family, as the thing on his back might take the life of someone close at any moment.

He only planned to return for a moment, to make arrangements with his wife and children, then to flee far away to a place where he couldn't harm anyone.

"Hey, look, there's a homeless old man sitting over there."

Sitting on the ground asleep, Wilson suddenly woke up and saw several young people with multicolored hair pointing at him.

He recognized the style; it seemed it had become popular in the Capital District in recent years, known as 'Slaughterhouse Nobles,' a way of dressing he personally disliked, but he respected others' choices and wouldn't criticize their attire.

Wilson ignored them and continued to bury his head in his knees, not in the mood to chat with these youngsters.

Now they liked to stand out, calling it identity, but one day they would realize how immature their current appearance really was.

"Tsk tsk, this black uncle seems pretty rich, I recognize that watch, looks like it's worth several thousand..."

The young men exchanged smiles, approached Wilson with a smirk, and said disdainfully, "Uncle, you don't look like a homeless man."

"What I look like is none of your business," Wilson snapped, his mood not very stable.

"Oh, tough talk, eh?"

A tall, thin youth with rainbow-colored hair pulled out a baton from his waist and poked it at Wilson's body.

At that instant, Wilson's back bulged!