"How did you get that information? That's classified information I tried to cover up." Lieutenant Gray melted in an instant, his voice calm, almost as if Wang's words were a death sentence.
"That's something I wouldn't want to share with you," Wang whispered as he turned towards Mr. Lee.
"Okay, I think we're done with this discussion." Wang walked towards Lieutenant Gray and uttered into his ears, "You can continue with your daily routine—but make sure you cover your tracks well."
As Lieutenant Gray stood, he spoke with audacity. "I will take my leave. But make sure he comes very early."
"He'll." Wang responded with a sharp voice.
Slowly Lieutenant Gray opened the door and walked out. Even as he walks through the hallway, he slowed his steps—wanting to hear what Warlord Wang would tell Corporal Lee, and not him.
"How did you come to know of the incident? Has it been reported to any officials?" Just as Lieutenant Gray's shadow vanished, Mr. Lee questioned Wang with a hardened voice.
"Oh, that. The reason I said Leon has great potential is because of what I saw last night."
As soon as his voice faded, Wang sat in the chair Lieutenant Gray had occupied, so he could watch Mr. Lee's reaction when he revealed what he had seen.
"I'm listening." Mr. Lee positioned himself carefully, as if to absorb every word from Wang's mouth.
"Do you know his father was one of the painters mentioned in the crash news?"
"Really?!" Mr. Lee gasped.
"Yes. While I watched their building from afar, I noticed Leon walking out. Then he started running at an enormous speed towards the crash site." Wang paused, stretching to take Leon's file.
"What do you mean by he was running at an enormous speed? No one can achieve that unless they've passed the tenth section of the training." As Wang pulled the file towards him, Mr. Lee cut in.
"True. But I think you've forgotten something." Gazing at Mr. Lee with a secretive look, Wang pointed his finger at a statement beneath Leon's photo.
But from where Mr. Lee was seated, he couldn't quite see what Wang's finger pointed to.
"Haven't you ever come across this name before—'Storm'?" Wang's expression shifted as he mentioned Leon's surname.
"Let me think." Mr. Lee tried, but every memory of that name led back to Leon. "No, I don't think I have."
"Are you sure? What of Andrew Storm?" Wang laughed, tilting his head in amusement.
At the mention of Andrew, Mr. Lee's expression changed as he recalled someone he'd once known.
"I think I remember now." He gasped, his eyes widening. "The warrior with an illegal ability?"
As Mr. Lee's voice echoed through the room, Wang kept smiling—almost as if he were picturing his precious wife waiting for him in bed.
"Wait—the savior who pretended to be a fresh recruit?" Mr. Lee rose up from his seat, as he began to feel uncomfortable. "But I don't think Leon is his son."
"Why?" Wang frowned.
"Because he hadn't been seen for years. Also, that man's body reassembled itself even after being butchered into tiny pieces by the hybrid beast—the one you were given its head."
Mr. Lee paused and walked to the window, his face still twisted in confusion.
"If you're saying his father is the man I'm thinking of, then we should push him straight to the real Hall of Flames instead of wasting his time in the fake one.
He turned towards Wang while tapping the plastic frame of the window.
"No, I don't think we should rush things for him." Wang whispered as he stepped closer.
"He needs proper control if he's really that man's son. Besides, according to the news, his body wasn't found at the crash site."
"Then, he's not who I'm thinking of." Mr. Lee turned away with an unsettled expression as he moved back to his seat.
"But the reason why I suspect his father to be the same man is that the other painter—Max—mentioned seeing someone walk through the fire as the plane exploded." Wang whispered before gazing at the sky.
For a moment, the room fell deathly silent.
"It's late. Let's leave before your wife calls again." Wang whispered.
---
Leon trudged through the dark, gasping like a tired wolf. A mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his fist like a waterfall.
"If not for the old lady, I don't know what would've happened to either of us." He whispered to himself. Countless scars became visible as the light from the nearby window fell across his face.
"I was lucky Tiger left with Dango and the three tall guys. Those two scumbags he left to deal with me would've died if not for the woman. Huh." Leon leaned against the wall, gasping as a sharp pain flared from the wound he'd sustained during the fight.
The moment his back touched the wall, it collapsed.
"Ouch! Who builds a wall this weak? Hahaha—oh right, they use leftover materials here."
His palm began to hurt more than what he was feeling in his other wounds. "Why does this scar hurt so much? I don't remember getting it from their attacks. So where…?"
As light fell on the scar, the pain intensified—but the wound on his leg began to heal on its own.
Looking at the miraculous action taking place, Leon held his breath, eyes wide.
"What's happening?" When he moved his hand out of the light, the healing stopped. Then, he moved it back.
"How? This is impossible!" He could feel the marks on his cheeks mending right after his leg wound closed.
He waited until all his injuries had healed before heading home.
"It's good my body can heal. But how? At least this means Lily and Mum won't have to worry again."
"By now, they must have known Father isn't alive—since Uncle Max appeared on the news this afternoon."
As his house came into view, Leon took a deep breath. Strangely, the dogs that usually barked right in front of their door weren't there. Not a single one stood there.