Chapter 1 Moment of Life and Death

Gao Yi awoke.

Pain, coldness, and an overwhelming sense of weakness—all these sensations stemmed from a wound located near his heart.

Beneath him felt icy and metallic to the touch, while someone whispered nearby.

The smell of disinfectant permeated his nostrils, mixed with a heavy stench of blood.

Was he about to die, or was he already dead?

His eyes cracked open slightly, and Gao Yi saw two figures in white coats, one on each side of him.

White coats... Were they doctors?

Then, was he saved?

But behind the white-coated doctors stood a middle-aged man in a floral shirt who seemed very excited.

"He's still not dead? How can he not be dead after taking a bullet to the heart?"

"This kid is a Mirror Image Man, meaning his organs are reversed compared to a normal person. His heart is on the right side. Congratulations, boss… This heart can fetch a hefty price."

The doctor's words plunged Gao Yi's heart further into an abyss.

The boss laid his hand over Gao Yi's heart, where the beat was so faint it was nearly imperceptible. But with his experience, he could tell the heart was still beating.

"Fantastic!" the boss turned around and urgently said, "We didn't prepare a transport box for the heart transplant; hurry and get one, quick! This is a heart that could be worth millions!"

Listening clearly, Gao Yi had to understand the gravity of his situation.

He had long known he was a Mirror Image Man. His survival up to this point was because the bullet meant for his heart had only struck a lung lobe. Nonetheless, a lung shot could still rob a person of their mobility.

The main issue now wasn't the pain; the extreme weakness was the truly lethal element.

There were no restraints on him, no anesthetic injections, because those who wanted his organs had considered him as good as dead. However, Gao Yi lacked the strength to stand.

But Gao Yi was not in despair, nor was he confused; he knew what he had to do.

He had to draw out the last vestiges of potential from his dying body.

At five, he practiced Hsing Yi; at thirteen, he began learning Eight Trigram Palm; at sixteen, he started to master Baji Fist; at nineteen, he took up Heart Connect Technique.

Gao Yi didn't practice mere forms; he was trained in genuine Kung Fu, with both form and function.

Although a lifetime of Kung Fu couldn't stop a small bullet, as long as he wasn't dead, he had far more chances to create miracles than the average person.

As long as he wasn't dead, there was a chance.

The doctor didn't rush to operate because he needed to make thorough preparations—preserving a live heart demanded high standards.

This gave Gao Yi a sliver of time, and time was exactly what he needed most now.

Suddenly another voice rang out.

"Boss!"

A man approached the one called boss, whispering, "The furnace is ready for four; once he's done, we can put him right on."

Rage, extreme rage.

He couldn't die, and even if death was inevitable, he made sure he'd take down these organ traffickers first.

At this time, the one referred to as the boss picked up a phone and began dialing.

"Hello, how's the match… It matches? Fantastic! I have more good news—the donor's heart is intact! Because he's a Mirror Image Man, his heart is still usable!"

The boss paused for a while, then cheerily continued, "I'll start the procedure here immediately. Additionally, I suggest you negotiate a higher price with Mr. Matthews… Trust me, there's a reason to raise the price."

The boss listened intently to whatever the person on the line said, then firmly replied, "I'll keep it simple: the donor killed an assassin from the Andic Group barehanded, took a bullet to the lung, and has survived over three and a half hours. Doesn't this physical condition merit a higher price?"

Gao Yi could hear the conversation. He felt no fear, only rage, coupled with an extreme sense of urgency.

"Everything is ready, boss."

"The doctor is ready, I'm about to make an incision, hurry up on your end," he concluded.

The boss ended the call, approached the operating table, and greedily appraised Gao Yi's body.

Four people, eight eyes, at that moment all locked on Gao Yi.

The boss rolled his neck, gestured with his hand, and then joyfully commanded, "We'll take everything—heart, liver, spleen, kidneys, even the corneas, especially the heart that's so valuable. You two must be careful."

After giving instructions, Fifth Brother began to retreat, lifting his phone to record Gao Yi, saying, "Wait, let me get this on video… Okay, now."

The doctor's knife descended toward Gao Yi.

Gao Yi's eyes flew open.

The doctor didn't notice Gao Yi's eyes because he wasn't looking at his face.

In a burst of action that belied his grievous injuries, Gao Yi shot up a hand and grabbed the doctor's wrist.

A shrill scream of terror escaped from the doctor he had grabbed.

Gao Yi, with a speed incongruent with a mortally wounded man, sat up; his left hand, braced against the operating table, rose and twisted rapidly. Snatching the scalpel from the doctor's hand, he plunged it into the carotid sinus in the doctor's neck.

A move both foreign and familiar.

Familiar because Gao Yi had practiced it countless times; foreign because he had never used it against another person before.

Blood began to spray, covering Gao Yi's head and face.

As the doctor on the right collapsed, Gao Yi twisted to his side, driving the scalpel straight into the left doctor's eye.

The blade sank in as his palm, resting on the scalpel's end, shoved forward until the hilt buried itself, and his hand rammed into the doctor's face.

The two standing by the operating table froze in shock. The middle-aged man, the boss, took an instinctive step back—but only one step.

Gao Yi felt slow, weak, and helpless.

The intense sense of powerlessness was disagreeable to Gao Yi, who had never felt so drained in his life.

Lacking strength, he chose the most energy-efficient method, targeting the most vulnerable spots of his enemy.

Gao Yi's seemingly feeble fingers jabbed directly at the boss's eye sockets.

But to the boss, Gao Yi's movements seemed inconceivably fast.

His fingers met slight resistance and, despite his current weakness, it was not something as delicate as an eyeball could withstand.

Blinding an enemy couldn't immediately be fatal, but it was the quickest way to neutralize their combat effectiveness.

A piercing scream erupted.

Gao Yi, on the left, with a tray full of surgical instruments within reach, had already grabbed another scalpel as the boss raised his arms wildly. Gao Yi's hand penetrated the defensive arms, stabbing into the boss's throat, then slicing through half his neck.

One more person remained, who finally drew a pistol from within his clothing.

If not for Gao Yi's severe injury, this person would have had no chance to draw the weapon.

Gao Yi could only muster the effort to keep himself from collapsing; he had no more strength to throw a punch.

No strength, but fortunately still skilled.

Leaning forward, Gao Yi's right hand shot upward, suddenly seizing two spherical objects and crushing them.

The monkey stealing the peaches: a move he had never had occasion to use, nor had he thought highly of, yet in his extreme weakness it became a lifesaving technique.

All he could manage was a darkening before his eyes and a spinning head.

Another screech rang out as the man, finally armed with a gun, doubled over in pain and started convulsing uncontrollably, inadvertently bringing his head within striking distance of Gao Yi.

Right hand stealing peaches, left hand brandishing the scalpel, plunged into the neck of his final opponent.

None of this took much effort, but it still made Gao Yi feel the room spin around him.

He leaned on the operating table, waiting for the intense dizziness to subside, gathering enough strength to act. The first thing he did was take the gun into his grasp.

After all, a gun is best; a mere pull of the trigger can take a life.

He had never touched a gun back in his own country, had never even seen one.

But Gao Yi at least knew how to shoot.

With a gun in hand, no matter how weak, one still had the power to fight back.

The earlier screams likely drew attention, and Gao Yi could already hear footsteps.

He lay on the ground, hiding the pistol behind the bodies. Just as he finished this, the door was suddenly kicked open.

People shouted loudly, but no one entered; now, there appeared to be only five corpses in the room.

Yes, Gao Yi looked more like a dead man with his bare body, chest wound, and face smeared with blood.

Two confused individuals entered one after the other. One held a gun, the other brandished an iron hook.

They spoke rapidly, horror-stricken, yet Gao Yi couldn't understand them.

As they entered simultaneously, Gao Yi raised his hand; a gunshot rang out, and the person with the gun trembled violently and collapsed cleanly.

At less than three meters, even a novice shooter could hit the head of a man.

The gun remained effective; Gao Yi pulled the trigger again.

The bullet hit the man with the iron hook, but the second shot was less impactful. The man rushed Gao Yi, bringing down the hook with force.

Another shot, and yet another—Gao Yi fired twice in rapid succession, then swiftly ducked his head as the iron hook slammed with force next to his ear into the tile. Uncontrolled, the hook-wielding man toppled over alongside Gao Yi.

The gun barrel rested atop the man's head, and with a final shot, the fourth bullet finally ended the last adversary.

Gao Yi breathed deeply. Blood frothed from his mouth and the bullet wound on his chest.

He didn't know if the gunfire would attract more people, but he now had no energy for anything else.

Gao Yi glanced around and assessed his surroundings.

The room wasn't large but quite bare, with white tiled walls and floors, containing only an operating table, several machines around it, and a couple of stands.

No windows were visible to see outside, but Gao Yi surmised there had to be a cremation furnace somewhere.

Struggling, he rose and grabbed a wad of cotton from a stand beside the operating table.

Stuffing the cotton into his chest wound, Gao Yi experienced an excruciating pain that seemed to tear at his soul.

Trembling uncontrollably, he managed to pack the wound, which, perhaps psychologically, appeared to prevent the loss of air through the bullet hole.

He opened the door slowly and looked out.

Clearly, beyond lay a temple, and where the base of a pagoda should be, firelight flickered.

In the temple, it was called a reliquary pagoda; outside, it was known as a cremation furnace.

The bodies burning in the furnace and Gao Yi were unrelated. Looking around, there were no other living souls—expectedly, not many would be needed where evidence needed to be destroyed so thoroughly.

So, was it finally time to seek help?