The journey back was a completely different experience.
On the way there, Ling Feng had been the prey, sticking to the shadows, avoiding all potential dangers, every step taken as if on thin ice.
But now, he walked along the relatively wide main roads of the Rust Belt, his steps steady, his gaze under the hood as calm as a deep pool.
He no longer needed to hide.
Within his "spiritual perception," everything around him was transformed into data, with nowhere to hide.
Thirty meters to his left front, on the second-floor window of an abandoned building, two people were spying. Judging by their weak but greed-filled and malicious spiritual fields, they were the lowest-level street thugs hoping to cash in on the bounty.
To his right rear, in a narrow alley, a source with long breaths and tense muscles lay in wait. That was an official member of the Iron Fist Gang, a hunter more patient and more deadly than a hyena.
In the past, any one of these threats would have been enough to make Ling Feng take a detour.
But now, these so-called "hunters," in his perception, were as clear, ridiculous, and full of openings as fireflies in the night.
He could even "read" the next move of the hunter in the alley—he was preparing to launch a surprise attack from behind the moment Ling Feng passed the alley's entrance.
Ling Feng's pace didn't falter or show any sign of panic.
Just as he was about to pass the mouth of the alley, it was as if he merely tripped on a piece of protruding metal on the ground, his body stumbling to the left in a completely natural way.
WHOOSH—!
An iron pipe, whistling with malicious force, slammed into the ground right where he had been a split second before, striking sparks from the concrete!
The attacker, having missed, had a flicker of astonishment in his eyes.
He hadn't expected this seemingly frail target to have eyes in the back of his head.
And Ling Feng gave him no second chance.
As his body stumbled, he used the momentum to pivot. The alloy staff in his hand, already powered by the centrifugal force of the spin, became a swift whip. It struck first despite moving second, cracking with pinpoint accuracy against the attacker's wrist that held the iron pipe!
CRACK!
The crisp sound of shattering bone was barely noticeable in the noisy street.
The attacker let out a muffled grunt of pain as his weapon clattered to the ground. His wrist was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.
His face was filled with fear and disbelief. He hadn't seen his opponent's move at all; it was just a black shadow, and then searing pain shot through his body.
Ling Feng didn't give him a second glance.
With the single strike, he kept moving, his body melting like a phantom into the crowd ahead. After a few turns, he completely vanished into the labyrinthine alleys.
He left behind only the Iron Fist Gang member with the broken hand and his few bewildered companions who rushed over from a distance. They didn't even realize that their five-thousand-credit-point prey had just casually slipped away right under their noses.
...
When the familiar door, repurposed from a tank's armor plate, came into view, Ling Feng's heart finally settled.
He could "sense" the familiar, warm, and anxious life presence behind the door.
The light had not been extinguished.
He knocked three times on the door with their unique, agreed-upon rhythm.
In less than two seconds, the door was yanked open from the inside.
"Feng!"
Shi Lei's face, etched with exhaustion and worry, peered out. When he saw that it was indeed Ling Feng standing outside and not the thugs from the Iron Fist Gang, his bloodshot eyes erupted with immense surprise and relief.
"You kid... you really came back!" He pulled Ling Feng into the workshop, slammed the door shut, and slid the bolt, all in one smooth motion.
"I'm back," Ling Feng said, smiling at his friend.
Shi Lei circled Ling Feng twice, squeezing his arms and checking his legs, only to find him not just unharmed, but... looking even better than when he had left. The calm and confidence radiating from within him was something he had never seen on Ling Feng before.
"What the hell..." Shi Lei muttered to himself. "Is the Sea of Scrap a death trap or some kind of health spa?"
He quickly shook off the absurd thought, his expression turning serious again. "You know about the situation outside, right? That bastard Buck put a five-thousand-point bounty on you. The whole Rust Belt has been turned upside down. We have to get out of here, now!"
"No," Ling Feng shook his head, his answer crisp and clear.
"No?!" Shi Lei's voice jumped an octave. "Are you crazy?! You want to stay here and die?"
"We're not leaving." Ling Feng walked to the workbench, picked up the thick notebook he had left behind, and handed it back to Shi Lei. "And from today on, we're not hiding anymore either."
He turned, his eyes shining with a startling brightness as he looked at his stunned friend.
"Shi Lei, haven't you always complained that we have to live like rats, bound by the bullshit rules set by these gangs and the upper districts?"
"Now," a sharp-edged smile touched the corners of Ling Feng's mouth, "I've found a way... for us to make the rules ourselves."
He extended his right hand, palm up, in front of Shi Lei.
Then, as Shi Lei's eyes widened in shock, so wide they looked like they might pop out of his head, a cold metal nut lying on the workbench, in defiance of all laws of physics, began to tremble. Slowly, it floated up from the tabletop.