The narrow alley behind the market felt like a tomb.
Cracked walls closed in from both sides, and the sunlight barely touched the damp stone floor. The distant clamor of the district had faded completely, replaced by a heavy stillness.
Chen Mo slowly turned his head.
What he saw made his shoulders tense.
A group of boys—some older, some his age—stood blocking the alley's exit. There were six of them. All had their faces wrapped with rags, hiding their identities, but Chen Mo recognized the way they moved: arrogant, casual, practiced.
They weren't just strangers.
They were locals.
Predators.
The tallest one cracked his knuckles as he stepped forward. "You've got copper coins, don't you?"
Chen Mo said nothing.
His instincts screamed to leave. To run.
He took a step backward, but a seventh boy appeared behind him, cutting off his retreat.
The circle closed.
"Hey, we asked you something," said another, smaller boy with a gravelly voice. "Hand it over. Don't make us search you."
Chen Mo didn't move. He clenched his fists.
I have nothing. What do they even want from me?
But it didn't matter.
They didn't wait for an answer.
With a sudden boom, a fist slammed into his side.
Chen Mo crashed into the wall, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs. He hit the ground hard, pain erupting through his thin body.
The group swarmed him.
Hands yanked at his shirt and pants, searching for anything of value—coins, trinkets, food scraps. One boy grabbed his shoes, while another went through his pockets.
But they found nothing.
Not a single coin.
"Damn it, he's broke!"
"Wasting our time!"
"You made us work for nothing, trash!"
Their anger exploded.
Fists and kicks rained down.
One struck his jaw. Another slammed into his ribs. A third stomped on his stomach. The world became a blur of pain and dust.
Chen Mo curled into himself, trying to protect his head.
His vision flickered. His thoughts grew dim.
Is this it?
Am I going to die here too?
But then—
A voice.
Firm. Authoritative.
"Enough."
The beating stopped instantly.
Silence swept the alley.
Chen Mo lay still, blinking blood and dirt from his eyes. His blurry vision made out a tall figure standing at the entrance to the alley, flanked by two guards in brown military uniforms.
The boys froze.
One whispered, "Earth District…?"
The tall figure stepped forward.
He was dressed simply, yet his presence was like a mountain—calm but unshakable. His black hair was tied back loosely, and his expression held a kind of cold confidence.
Wang Tang.
Even in Chen Mo's fading awareness, the name surfaced.
A noble from the Earth District. Not a prince or a general, but someone from a military lineage. His father, a mid-level IronLord, had stationed Wang Tang in the Dark District for some undisclosed "training." Rumor was that Wang Tang volunteered for it.
Why, no one knew.
"Get rid of them," Wang Tang said to his guards, not even looking at the boys.
The guards moved instantly.
The bullies scattered like rats. One tried to protest, but a single glare from the brown-uniformed man shut him up. Within seconds, the alley was empty, leaving behind only broken silence and Chen Mo's trembling form.
Wang Tang stepped closer.
He crouched down and looked at Chen Mo.
"Can you hear me?"
Chen Mo coughed. "...Yeah."
"You're lucky I passed by." He motioned to one of his guards. The man handed Wang Tang a small glass vial.
Wang Tang uncorked it and carefully tilted the contents into Chen Mo's mouth.
The liquid was sweet, with a metallic aftertaste. Warmth bloomed in his chest as the healing potion began its work, dulling the worst of his pain and easing the swelling on his face and limbs.
"Don't move yet," Wang Tang said.
Chen Mo didn't try. He was too dazed to respond.
Wang Tang reached into his coat and pulled out a few copper coins, pressing them gently into Chen Mo's palm.
"Consider this a loan," he said. "Not charity."
Chen Mo blinked at the coins, struggling to hold back tears of frustration and confusion.
Why would someone like this help him?
He didn't know him.
They were from different worlds.
Wang Tang stood up and looked at his guards. "Take him home. Make sure he gets there safely."
One of the brown-uniformed men stepped forward, nodding silently. He bent down and gently helped Chen Mo to his feet, placing an arm around his back to support him.
Wang Tang turned to leave.
As he walked toward the end of the alley, Chen Mo's weak voice echoed behind him.
"...One day…"
Wang Tang paused.
"I'll return this favor," Chen Mo continued, his words strained. "A hundred fold."
Wang Tang didn't turn back.
But he raised his hand slightly, as if to acknowledge the promise.
And then he walked away.
Chen Mo's legs buckled, and he lost consciousness.
The guard caught him just in time.
With surprising gentleness, the man hoisted Chen Mo onto his back and began walking toward Zone 937's ruined apartments, his boots echoing softly through the alley.