"Endless Assassination"

Apartment first floor.

The young man closed the door and locked it twice.

Glanced at the time, 1:15 AM.

Tired.

He started climbing the stairs to the second floor.

One step.

Two steps.

The wooden stairs creaked with each step.

But from the third step onwards, the stairs were painted black, continuing upwards, as if the young man was stepping from light into darkness.

He pushed open the equally dark door at the end of the staircase.

The entire second floor was a 30 square meter bedroom.

But the room was pitch black.

Both the north and south windows of the room were completely sealed with black blackout fabric, meticulously handled at the edges to prevent a single ray of moonlight from entering.

A firefly, which had somehow flown in, lit up its green belly.

As it hovered around, it illuminated the objects in the room.

The entire room, including the desk, wardrobe, and shoe cabinet, was painted pure black, even the originally bright silver metal handles were sprayed with black paint.

All colorful objects were also put away in the cabinets.

The young man walked into the room, took out a black paper bag, and covered the green peace lily from top to bottom with it. Then, the peace lily completely disappeared into the black background, indiscernible.

Then.

The young man, looking at the fluttering firefly, said softly, "There can't be any color in my bedroom, it has to be pure black, sorry."

Snap!

The young man's palms came together, and the light of the firefly completely disappeared in his hands.

But the next moment.

White moonlight still seeped into the room.

It was the young man who had opened the heavy curtains and opened the window, releasing the firefly back into nature.

The firefly circled in the night sky.

Its faint light seemed to illuminate the entire Rust City.

The young man smiled.

He closed the window and sealed the curtains again, plunging the room into darkness where not even the shape of a hand could be seen whether eyes were open or closed.

He took off his shirt and hid it in the black wardrobe.

Then, he lay down on the black single bed in a spread-eagled position.

"Before I sleep, I can't see colors..."

"Because I have... another insignificant, minor, not worth mentioning little psychological disorder."

Drifting off, the young man fell asleep.

In his dream.

He felt himself constantly getting up and leaving, walking into a black vortex over and over again.

This sensation, repeating for the twelfth time, suddenly made him shiver.

A strong sense of crisis surged in his heart!

The young man abruptly opened his eyes!

He saw his right hand holding a shiny and sharp object, just 2 centimeters away from stabbing his own right eye!

The young man was startled, breathing heavily.

Looking closely, he saw he was holding the plastic sugar paper folded into a paper crane.

It was the return gift from little Ya just now.

But if the sharp wing of the paper crane really stabbed down, his eyeball would likely be punctured!

"Reset..."

"Reset..."

A digital voice came from the side, and a vintage computer appeared in the corner at some point, with a stone pressing a key, continuously emitting 'reset', 'reset' sounds.

The young man looked up.

He saw a candle burning next to the bed, roasting a hemp rope that was connected to the ceiling.

A stone weighing at least 100 kilograms was tied and suspended from the ceiling.

In another 1-2 minutes, the rope was likely to burn through, and the stone would fall directly onto the young man's head, inevitably resulting in a splattered brain.

"Right eye."

"Computer."

"Rotten head?"

"What's all this?"

The young man mocked.

Then, he simply rubbed his eyes. Under such circumstances, he was surprisingly calm, as if accustomed to it.

Then, he fell into reminiscence.

A year ago, or maybe nine months?

He would wake up from sleep and suddenly find himself trapped in spontaneously appearing mechanisms.

Various tricks, various operations, with rapidly advancing technical content.

At first, they were just pranks, but now they've become perverse, each capable of causing death.

"Only 2:55 AM..."

"Such a complex mechanism, or rather, a torture device... you only used 1 hour and 30 minutes."

"In the deprived Rust City, you could still find so many tools..."

"You've made progress again."

"Especially that computer, how did you come up with that?"

The young man stared at the paper crane in his hand, "Even this was turned into a weapon by you."

The young man had tried changing sleeping places, but the bizarre phenomena followed like a shadow, inescapable.

Or, he tried sleeping on the streets where people passed by, but bizarrely, the phenomena then did not occur.

Once, after dodging the first murder attempt, the young man acquired an antique-grade second-hand camera and installed it at the entrance of his room.

When he woke up that night, there was no one else in the room, and he was damn hanging himself.

He immediately checked the surveillance but found that 99.9% of the recording was calm and uneventful, with no abnormalities.

Only in the last three seconds, a hand suddenly appeared, twisted the camera, and then tore off its wires.

The young man took a sharp breath at that moment.

The next day, he acquired four second-hand cameras with ancient thermal imaging capabilities.

The surveillance locations were the hallway, the entrance, inside the room, and the window.

Moreover, the young man cleverly camouflaged these cameras, hiding them inside a shoe cabinet, the ceiling, or behind objects.

In short, even if that mysterious assassin discovered one, he wouldn't find them all.

That night, the young man woke up inexplicably again.

He hadn't come?

Just as the young man's mood relaxed slightly and he slowly turned around.

He saw a coat hanger by the bed, hanging a can of compressed air.

Following the can downwards, it was connected to a tube, and the tube's needle was inserted into his arm's vein.

If a significant amount of air is mixed during infusion, the air will enter the body's bloodstream and then flow into the heart through the veins.

During the heart's contraction, a large amount of foam will be produced in the heart, making it difficult for the blood in the ventricle to enter the pulmonary artery, resulting in a phenomenon called air embolism.

Slow death.

Some infusion patients accidentally fall asleep, the medication runs out, leading to air entering the vessels, which is like hovering on the edge of death, and some die as a result.

"Quite a player."

Fortunately, at that time, this murder tool had just formed not long ago, and the young man only felt chest tightness.

He immediately pulled out the needle and got out of bed to check the surveillance.

The result left him speechless.

That mysterious hand destroyed the cameras one by one, leaving no stone unturned, and the interval did not exceed 10 seconds, with no searching process at all.

As if he already knew where those cameras were hidden.

Now.

This kind of dream assassination had become commonplace for the young man.

Every month there would be a few days like this.

He also knew the reason for all of this.

At this moment.

The young man turned his head to look at his shadow cast on the wall by the candlelight.

The shadow was also sitting quietly on the bed.

As the candle flickered, the shadow seemed to have black mist rising from it, also twisting slightly.

The young man looked at the shadow.

His expression slowly became calm, and within that calmness, there was a hint of anger.

"You killed my parents."

"And now you want to kill me."

"It's you!"

"My hidden... dark personality!"

The young man's chest heaved, and the shadow twisted slightly, as if mocking in silence.

"Heh."

The young man also laughed coldly, "What does it matter how many methods you use? Every time, I will wake up at the critical moment!"

"As if someone is quietly warning me."

"Don't worry, I won't self-destruct along with you."

"One day!"

"I will expose you, erase you!"

"I will quietly watch you dissipate!"

The young man clenched his fists, turned to look at the candle burning the rope, and blew it out with a puff!

Then.

He went back to sleep!

Creak...

Creak...

After sleeping for an hour, a small noise came from the ceiling, the rope holding the stone was breaking apart under the weight.

The young man was too careless; he had only blown out the candle.

Unaware that the heavy stone was about to fall!

Creak...

That section of the rope was 90% broken, only a thin line remained!

Bang!

The rope finally snapped, and the stone fell!

But the young man was still deeply asleep.

Just at this critical moment.

The young man suddenly opened his eyes.

But the eyes seemed to belong to another person, eyes that had seen the turmoil of battlefields, guarded the frontiers for a hundred years, eyes full of steadfast resolve.

Not the demeanor of a commanding general, but the determination of a vice-general.

A vice-general willing to protect his leader with his body and life.

The muscles on the young man's upper body tensed instantly, outlining his explosive power.

With a low growl, his voice deep and resonant, "Guard!"

Boom!

The young man swung his arm, directly knocking the hundred-pound stone flying with his elbow.

Crash!

The stone smashed through the wall and flew out of the apartment!

The next moment.

The young man's gaze became hazy, his aura dissipated, and he fell back into a deep sleep.