A Novelist’s Guide for Side Characters to Survive

Chapter 15: “You… in pain?”

Despite being tormented to a wretched state, Chu Zu still strode lightly into the Lower District.

The Lower District knew his face well, so Chu Zu donned a holographic disguise beforehand.

This wasn’t District 18.

Tang Qi had just “liberated” much of the Lower District, and some hotheads might think they’re tough enough to pick a fight with him.

One or two were no issue, but a crowd?

Chu Zu’s brain couldn’t keep up with the system’s prompts, and mistakes could happen.

District 13 was in chaos, with all order-keepers surrounded at the train station.

A soft mechanical female voice repeated on broadcast: “Dear passengers, please board in an orderly manner, following regulations.”

The command looped, ignored entirely. The crowd shoved each other, not aiming to fight anyone organizedly.

The strong pushed the weak aside, trampling the fallen, screams intermittently drowning out the mechanical voice.

Chu Zu slipped into the crowd, wrapped in a dirty blanket Lower District folks used as a cloak, ensuring his projection stayed in place.

Soon, the repetitive mechanical voice changed.

“Please board in an orderly manner, follow… can you hear… station…”

“Dear pass… Can you hear my voice?”

“Tang Qi!” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Tang Qi!” others quickly echoed.

“Tang Qi!!!”

“Tang Qi—!!!”

Their shouts were odd—excited, yes, but Chu Zu sensed no positive emotion.

The broadcast was clearly hijacked, the once-choppy voice growing clear.

“Destroy the station,” Tang Qi’s voice rang out.

“Drive out the Upper District people. This is District 13’s District 13. Arrogant folks, leave.”

Hearing the mastermind, a trembling train worker’s hand shook, gripping a plasma energy beam pistol.

Spooked by the surging mob, he accidentally fired.

The next moment, a duller “bang” sounded, air pierced with a sonic boom.

The bullet’s path was clear, steaming white from heat, hitting the worker who’d pulled the trigger.

A scream louder than all tore through the station.

The crowd stilled for a moment, then backed away, clearing space around the charred corpse.

“Electromagnetic metal bullet laced with white phosphorus, long-range precision weapon, monitoring station issue,” the system warned.

Chu Zu turned.

Atop the steel ruins, Tang Qi stood in a brown short robe, slowly lowering his weapon.

“I said, leave,” he repeated.

People exchanged glances.

As station staff fled to the trains, a clear, fervent madness lit their eyes.

They began cheering, louder than before, frantically shouting Tang Qi’s name.

Two minutes later, Tang Qi stepped into the crowd like a pebble in a lake.

Chu Zu saw him draw closer, and just as they were about to pass, Tang Qi turned.

A gunshot rang out close enough to burst eardrums.

The man behind Chu Zu fell, writhing and burning, his plasma pistol dropping.

But Tang Qi didn’t look at him.

He stared at Chu Zu, inches away, his sharp brows furrowed.

“You need to leave now!” the system urged.

“Even if Tang Qi won’t hurt you, the crowd’s out of control. They’ll swallow you!”

Chu Zu said, “Dai Xi’an was right.”

“Tang Qi looks so sad when he kills, but he doesn’t hesitate.”

“You okay?” Tang Qi suddenly reached out.

Chu Zu held still.

Tang Qi gently pulled off the blanket.

Chu Zu noticed the white phosphorus bullet had grazed it, leaving a smoldering burn spreading outward.

The system’s volume spiked, almost a scream: “Too many people! The hologram will get knocked off! The Physics Beast won’t help—Tang Qi can whip them into a frenzy, but he can’t control them!”

Chu Zu was already scanning for the best escape route.

The next second, Tang Qi removed his brown robe, draping it over Chu Zu’s head.

He held the robe’s edges by Chu Zu’s jaw with one hand, tossed his earpiece to the ground with the other, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“Come with me,” Tang Qi whispered in his ear. “I’ve been waiting for you, Chu Zu.”

“Comm Log 231-352-2. Due to technical adjustments, inter-level trains will close at 16:00 today. Restart time TBD. Passengers, prepare accordingly.”

“Comm Log 231-352-3. Per Clock Tower observation, Lower District pollution levels have risen to Grade III. Emergency rain will start at 16:00. Upper District residents, avoid lingering outside and mind return times.”

“Comm Log 231-352-4. Urgent notice: Batch B22112A prosthetics are malfunctioning. A user fell from the Esposito building. Users of batch B22112A, visit Neural Prosthetic Studio for immediate adjustments.”

“Comm Log…”

Several notices crackled from a hijacked old radio.

Tang Qi raised a hand, shut it off, and gestured for Chu Zu to close the door.

“Ace and the others still died,” Tang Qi said.

Chu Zu removed Tang Qi’s robe, disabling the hologram.

He was brought to a room like the one from their last meeting, but this time only an empty bed, no bodies, barely clean.

The air still reeked awfully.

“Who’s Ace?” he asked.

Tang Qi forced a bitter smile: “The patients you tried to save.”

“I didn’t try to save anyone,” Chu Zu said.

“But you just saved me. Thanks.”

Tang Qi, with a bellyful of words, choked on that thanks.

But then Chu Zu drew a pulse curved knife from his waist, lunging forward silently.

Close-quarters combat nullified white phosphorus bullets—small space risked explosions, and Chu Zu knew every device, with countless ways to make a gun misfire.

Tang Qi, caught off guard, tried to grab the knife.

Chu Zu flicked his wrist, knocking away Tang Qi’s raised knee, his hand slicing upward toward the throat.

Tang Qi dodged sideways, throwing a punch.

Chu Zu didn’t evade, his later move faster, striking Tang Qi’s face dead-on.

Swift, brutal combat moves flowed into the high-frequency vibrating blade, seamless as if rehearsed a million times.

The dull pain of a broken nose was no big deal.

Tang Qi fell back to avoid a fatal strike, and Chu Zu followed with a kick.

A thunderous crash, and Tang Qi slammed into the steel-frame beds behind.

Coughing blood, Tang Qi felt his cheek cool, belatedly touching under his eye.

Blood gushed from a cut, half a nail’s breadth from blinding him!

But it didn’t hurt. Pulse knives cut metal effortlessly, paralyzing targets.

The pain came from his gashed forehead, blood blurring his eyes.

He wiped it, sitting up, his palm sliced by metal shards.

From start to defeat, less than half a minute.

Looking up, Chu Zu hadn’t moved much since starting.

His breathing stayed steady, scarlet eyes glaring down.

“You didn’t need to thank me,” Tang Qi said.

“Even if I didn’t pull you from the crowd, you could’ve killed us all.”

“My target’s just you.” Chu Zu stepped forward, over the warped steel frames, stopping before Tang Qi, grabbing his throat and slamming him back to the ground.

No holding back—Tang Qi’s face went from white to red to blue.

Professional technique.

Tang Qi heard his throat bones grind, but worse, Chu Zu pinched his carotid, tightening, causing instant dizziness from blood rush.

He didn’t know how he still had time to analyze Chu Zu’s moves.

He’d only heard tales, but now, experiencing it, Tang Qi understood why people feared him more than weapons.

“Why…” Tang Qi squeezed out.

Chu Zu was surprisingly talkative: “You’re troubling Lucio.”

He said, “You’re troubling me too.”

Tang Qi couldn’t speak, fingers stiff, clawing Chu Zu’s arm.

Chu Zu was genuinely troubled.

“How’s he this weak…” Chu Zu, thinking fast, asked the system, “Can’t fight, yet meet me alone? Is his gun for show? Why not go all-out and take me down?”

The system was more frantic.

“The issue is, this one-sided beatdown can’t count toward the main plot, remember? You ‘disappeared’ after playing double agent last time! Go easy, don’t push the main storyline!”

Chu Zu: “…This job’s trickier than I thought. I underestimated it.”

The system scanned the room: “Host! One meter to Tang Qi’s right, a broken bed leg. He’s noticed it. Figure out how to let him reach it!”

“One meter… Can you turn on that radio? Tang Qi shut off?”

“Yes.”

“Play the crowd’s shouts.”

“Got it!”

As the system spoke, the corner radio crackled, glitching like a rewinding tape, then started.

“Tang Qi—”

Chu Zu instinctively turned, hurling the pulse knife at the radio, pinning it to the wall.

Blue arcs flickered twice, ending with the shattered machine.

Tang Qi seized the moment, kicking Chu Zu’s stomach, rolling to grab the steel rod, thrusting its sharp end into Chu Zu’s chest!

But Chu Zu clamped his hand.

The force could’ve pierced through, but the rod’s tip barely entered Chu Zu’s chest.

Blood flowed down the pipe, pooling at Chu Zu’s grip on Tang Qi’s hand.

Tang Qi, too busy to check his neck, grabbed his gun, aiming at the man atop him, ready to go down together.

Then something unexpected happened.

“Cough… cough…”

Chu Zu frowned, stepping back, pulling out the rod, clutching the wound.

His coughs seemed to rumble from his chest, bypassing his throat, muffled, and… pained.

Pain?

Tang Qi, still aiming, struggled up, not firing, instinctively watching Chu Zu.

Chu Zu took deep breaths, blood gushing from his chest.

A minor wound for a killer like him, yet he seemed stunned, as if injured for the first time, his usually blank face slack, chin half-tucked, staring at the wound.

Chu Zu let go, looking at the red on his palm, then slowly at Tang Qi.

The red in his eyes was thicker than the blood.

“You really… trouble me.”

In that instant, Tang Qi realized, more incredulous than Chu Zu: “You… in pain?”