Wuzhen, China
The old water town of Wuzhen was trying to hold its breath. The ancient canals still reflected the grey, overcast sky, and the stone bridges still arched gracefully over the water, but a tense, fragile silence had replaced the usual hum of tourists and vendors. Lin Feng stood on one of these bridges, his gaze sweeping over the town. He could feel the fear, a low-frequency hum beneath the surface of this forced normalcy. It was in the way people hurried along the flagstone paths, the way they avoided eye contact, the way every stray dog was now viewed with suspicion.
He had tried to maintain his routine. The martial arts school was closed, the students sent home to their families, but he still trained, pushing his body to its limits, trying to understand the strange, crackling energy that now coiled in his muscles. It was a low, buzzing static, a barely-controlled hum that surged when his adrenaline spiked. He could make the hairs on his arm stand up, create a tiny, snapping spark between his fingertips. It was a parlor trick, not a weapon.
The scream that shattered the town's silence was high-pitched and full of terror.
It was followed by the sound of splintering wood and a deep, guttural squeal of rage. Lin Feng didn't hesitate. His body moved with the ingrained economy of his special forces training, vaulting over the bridge's railing and landing silently on the path below. He ran towards the sound, his senses sharp, his mind a cold, clear slate.
He rounded a corner and saw it. The thing had once been a wild boar, but now it was a walking tank of muscle and rage. It was the size of a small car, its hide mottled with patches of what looked like dull, rusted iron plate. Its tusks were like crude iron spikes, and its small, red eyes burned with a mindless fury. It was a D-Class threat, an "Iron-Steel Wild Boar," and it was currently tearing a fruit vendor's stall to pieces.
People were scattering, their panicked cries fueling the creature's rampage. It lowered its head and charged towards a small group frozen in terror.
Lin Feng moved. He grabbed a heavy, discarded wooden beam from the wreckage of the stall and, with a guttural roar, slammed it against the side of the boar's head. It was like hitting a brick wall. The beam shuddered, and the impact barely caused the creature to flinch. But it did get its attention.
The boar turned, its red eyes locking onto him. It let out another furious squeal and charged.
Lin Feng dropped the useless beam and dodged, the boar's iron-like tusks gouging deep furrows in the flagstones where he had been standing. It was fast, brutally so. He couldn't fight it head-on.
He vaulted onto the low-tiled roof of a teahouse, the boar crashing into the wall below, shaking the entire structure. He had to find a weakness. The iron plates on its hide were thick, but there were gaps. The eyes, the joints, the underbelly...
As it bellowed in frustration below, an idea sparked in his mind, prompted by the tingling energy in his own hands. He ripped a length of decorative copper piping from the roof's edge, bending the soft metal into a crude, sharp point.
He waited for his moment. The boar pulled back from the wall, shaking its massive head. Lin Feng leaped. He landed on the creature's broad, muscular back, a shocking, jarring impact that nearly threw him off. He gripped its coarse, wire-like bristles, driving his knees in for stability.
The boar went berserk, bucking and spinning, trying to dislodge him. Lin Feng held on, his muscles screaming in protest. He brought the pointed copper pipe down, aiming for the soft spot just behind the creature's ear. He drove it in with all his strength.
The pipe punched through the thick hide. The boar shrieked in pain. And now, for the final, desperate gamble.
Lin Feng placed both hands on the end of the copper pipe. He closed his eyes, shutting out the chaos, and focused every ounce of his will, every shred of the strange, static power within him, and pushed it down the conductive metal.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint blue spark crackled from his hands. The spark became a surge, a visible torrent of brilliant blue-white electricity that flowed down the pipe and directly into the creature's brain.
The boar's shrieks were cut short. Its massive body went rigid, convulsing violently. A smell like ozone and cooked meat filled the air. It took two stumbling steps, then crashed onto its side, the flagstones cracking under its immense weight.
Silence descended, broken only by Lin Feng's own ragged, gasping breaths. He slid off the creature's back, his body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. The townspeople stared at him, their faces a mixture of awe, gratitude, and a new, profound fear. He was no longer just the quiet martial arts teacher. He was something