Chapter 19: Giving You an Ice Bath

Alexander's bravado had finally crumbled into fear. Desperately, he pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency number, 120. But the line was incessantly busy—after more than two minutes of trying, the stark reality set in. The city was frozen over, and even the hospitals were in a state of paralysis.

With no ambulance able to navigate the snow-choked streets, Alexander faced a grim choice. Hesitation gave way to the ruthless survival instinct he was known for. He resolved to extract the crossbow bolt himself.

Struggling back to his apartment, he rummaged through his drawers for a knife, an alcohol lamp, gauze, and coagulants. His past life's brawls had taught him to keep such tools close. He sliced through his pant leg and gasped at the sight of his wound—icy and numb from the frigid cold, with a ring of bruised flesh surrounding it.

Alone and despairing, Alexander realized he could count on no one but himself. It was a grisly operation, performed without anesthesia, but the cold had numbed his senses enough for him to proceed. Through excruciating pain and with waning consciousness, he managed to remove the bolt. His calf, however, was beyond saving.

Lying on the sofa, panting from the ordeal, Alexander's thoughts were consumed by vengeance against Phoenix.

"I will end you, Phoenix!" he vowed through gritted teeth, his eyes ablaze with murderous intent.

Fueled by rage, Alexander took to the group chat since Phoenix had blocked his number, issuing a chilling threat for all to see: "Phoenix, you're dead. You just wait—I'll write my name backwards if I don't get you for this!"

The residents were oblivious to the true gravity of the situation. Auntie Lin, recently humiliated by Phoenix, reveled in the conflict, hoping for mutual destruction. "Let them destroy each other," she sneered privately.

White Lotus Mira, too, saw the messages and couldn't suppress a smirk, wishing for Phoenix's downfall after his cold treatment of her.

The group fell silent, none daring to get entangled in the feud. But Phoenix, upon seeing the message, just laughed louder.

"Alexander, you're just a yapping dog! Mess with me again, and I'll take out your other leg," he taunted, sending a voice message for all to hear.

The group erupted into whispers and speculation. No one had expected Phoenix to stand up to Alexander, let alone wound him.

Alexander, clenching his phone so hard it nearly cracked, was seething with hatred. "You'll regret this, Phoenix," he snarled, already plotting his revenge.

Despite his bravado, Phoenix continued to play his game, keeping an eye on the building's surveillance. He watched as Alexander's lackeys gathered outside his door, wielding makeshift weapons and shields.

But Phoenix wasn't worried. The door to his fortress was impenetrable, his arsenal ready. Those thugs were as good as dead to him.

The goons pounded on the door relentlessly, hurling insults and threats. But the reinforced door didn't so much as dent under their assault.

Annoyed by the disturbance and another death in his game, Phoenix decided it was time to end their ruckus. He rigged a hose to the kitchen faucet, climbed up to the shooting port, and unleashed a torrent of water on the unsuspecting mob.

The cold water hit them like a barrage, their shouts turning into yelps as the icy deluge soaked them to the bone. In the bitter cold, the water would soon turn to ice, teaching them a harsh lesson about the futility of their efforts.