Amid the bustling clatter of glasses in the bar, Mo Xian felt dazed. Knowing she had a bit too much to drink, she stood up and said, "Keep drinking, enjoy yourselves, I'm going to the restroom."
Mo Xian staggered to the restroom and cupped a handful of cold water to splash on her face, which brought her a few seconds of clarity. Pressing both hands against the sink, she felt her head grow heavy and dull.
Out in the main hall of the bar, a group of tall, strongly built men surrounded a man who appeared noticeably frail—even more so given how aggressively the seven or eight figures hemmed him in. The cornered man looked at the advancing group with a mixture of vigilance and panic, involuntarily stepping back bit by bit.
"Hand over the item, and we'll let you go. How about it?" the leader of the group asked in a negotiating tone, though his eyes remained fixed on him.
"No way! This is a family heirloom! I'll never let it fall into your hands!" the frail man shouted without a moment's hesitation, his voice resolute.
"Is that so? I say you stole it!" The leader's mouth twitched into a cold, sinister smile.
"You're robbing me by force! Don't even think about taking it!" The frail man clenched his fists, glaring with intense anger.
"Really? Then it looks like you're asking to die!" The leader closed in step by step, brimming with intimidation.
Realizing he had backed up against the wall, the frail man pressed his back to the surface. The chill of the wall seeped into his body, injecting a trace of calm. With a look of desperation yet extraordinary resolve, he stared at the tightening circle and the advancing leader. Suddenly, he threw a feint, and taking advantage of the enemy's mistimed reaction, he broke through the circle and bolted frantically out of the bar's entrance.
"Damn it, how dare he pull a trick! After him!" the leader cursed angrily.
The group of tall, burly men stood stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it and immediately giving chase.
The frail man was exceptionally agile, widening the gap in an instant.
A muffled curse cut through the noisy bar and the long, narrow corridor, reaching Mo Xian's ears with startling clarity—so clear there wasn't the slightest bit of static. Annoyed, Mo Xian frowned the next second and looked toward the source of the sound, just in time to see seven or eight men rushing like a flood toward the exit.
Someone was causing trouble!
Acting on reflex like an arrow released from a bow, Mo Xian gave chase. The fast-moving crowd of men stood out glaringly. Glancing left and right, Mo Xian quickly figured out the direction.
The alcohol was still taking a heavy toll, leaving her far from fully sober; this was entirely an unconscious, conditioned response.
Mo Xian was a police academy student. With graduation approaching, a large group of her brothers and sisters in arms had gathered to drink heartily. As the day of parting drew closer and time together grew scarcer, they cherished these moments more and more, talking endlessly over one another. A deep sense of camaraderie filled the air. One by one, they had slumped over the tables or rested their heavy heads on one hand, still murmuring incessantly. They were all drunk. Day-in, day-out companions were about to leave campus and step out into society; a mixture of uncertainty, fear, expectation, longing, and yearning was written across every face.
Mo Xian had already bolted outside. Tipsy though she was, her light frame allowed her to run at an astonishing speed.
The bustling streets were already veiled by night, yet the crowds still flowed endlessly. The group of men rushing past was like a stone thrown into a lake, stirring up ripples before quickly returning to calm.
Weaving through the crowd, the frail man held a distinct advantage. With her agile build, Mo Xian threaded through the pedestrians, overtaking the seven or eight men and closing the distance rapidly. The frail man noticed Mo Xian and frowned; having finally shaken off that mob, he now found himself targeted by another person who clearly looked like bad news. Not knowing whether Mo Xian was friend or foe, the frail man ran even faster. The group behind him clearly noticed Mo Xian as well. *What kind of person is this, coming out to cause trouble?* The seven or eight men eyed her with open hostility.
As Mo Xian closed in, the frail man tightly gripped his left hand and ran even harder. Yet, fast as he was, his stamina was rapidly failing. Heavy gasping escaped his lips, veins bulged on his forehead, sweat rolled down, and his thin shirt was soaked through, sticking clammily to his body. Panic gripped his heart.
A sedan was parked by the roadside, the owner completely oblivious to the chaos behind it. The moment the car door opened, the frail man sprinted right up to it. The door shielded him as he instantly yanked the male driver out from the driver's seat and scrambled inside. The owner was left standing dazed on the spot, staring dumbly at the speeding car with a completely blank expression.
The seven or eight men in hot pursuit refused to be outdone. They immediately hijacked two cars and roared off in fierce pursuit.
Covered in a fine sweat from running, and still feeling the alcohol, Mo Xian didn't think twice. She straddled a motorcycle parked nearby—dressed in blue, looking dashing and cool—and shot forward with a whoosh.
The frail man's car had already been overtaken, sandwiched between two vehicles—one in front, one behind. The men launched an attack on his car. The window beside the driver's seat shattered, and the leader reached in to grab him. Ducking low, the frail man nimbly avoided the grasp and scrambled into the passenger seat. The window on the other side shattered as well, and he scrambled into the back seat. Clearly enraged, the group rained blows down with a loud clatter until every window had been smashed to pieces.
"Damn it, refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit! Ungrateful wretch!" Amid the curses, the frail man was dragged out of the car.
With the roar of a motorcycle engine, Mo Xian arrived just in time.
The frail man was hauled up and hurled onto the ground.
Planting her left foot and extending a long leg, Mo Xian dismounted from the motorcycle.
Stumbling with unsteady footing, the frail man hit the ground, but he rolled instantly, attempting to stand up and flee again. Seeing this, the leader immediately launched a flying kick straight at the frail man's knee, consumed by fury. He put his full strength into the blow.
The frail man instantly flung his arms out and crashed to the ground, his left wrist slamming directly against a large boulder at the corner of the wall.
His wrist struck the stone.
The object flew out of his hand.
Mo Xian stepped forward toward the group.
The eyes of the men were glued to the flying object, while the frail man struggled frantically to crawl back up.
It was a pink Ruyi, glowing with a brilliant, translucent, shimmering pink light.
Still under the influence of alcohol, Mo Xian remained in a daze.
She only felt a mass of pink radiance hurtling straight toward her face.
The figures of the men shifted instantly as they closed in around Mo Xian.
The frail man lifted his head, looking on with desperate anger and utter helplessness, unable to do a thing.
Moving with fast and practiced precision, the seven or eight men formed a tight circle with Mo Xian in the center.
Before the men could even plant their feet firmly, the Ruyi flew straight toward the spot between Mo Xian's brows.
Mo Xian instinctively tried to dodge.
She was half a beat too slow.
The glowing pink Ruyi struck the exact center of Mo Xian's forehead.
Putting all their strength into it, the group lunged at Mo Xian in unison.
A dizzying sensation of the world spinning came rushing over Mo Xian. Aside from the vertigo, she could hear and feel nothing at all.
Before the men could even reach her, they watched Mo Xian vanish. That was right—she had simply disappeared into thin air. Unable to check their momentum, and thinking it was just a trick of the eye or a failure of their own vision, the seven or eight men lunged right through the space and crashed into one another. Groans of pain escaped the group. They quickly scrambled back up, rubbing the spots where they had collided—some nursing the tops of their heads, others their cheeks, shoulders, or chests. Staring intently at the spot where Mo Xian had vanished, the seven or eight men widened their eyes, looking at one another in disbelief. Having confirmed without a doubt that Mo Xian was no longer there, they quickly retreated several paces. Clearly clueless as to what had happened, they felt as though that spot was a giant vortex—a vortex capable of swallowing people up. Though hard to believe, they had witnessed with their own eyes how Mo Xian had vanished right in front of them.
Watching things unfold into this bizarre state, the frail man stared powerlessly and helplessly at the empty space where Mo Xian had disappeared, unable to recover his senses for a long time.