My Enemy is Too Weak to Take Care of Himself Chapter 2

Pei Zhuo tore off that page of the calendar and crumpled it up before tossing it into the trash.


The mission deadline was ten days from now, and its contents were simple: protect the target and ensure they successfully completed a certain transaction.


Generally speaking, Pei Zhuo didn't take on this kind of bodyguard work, but there was an additional note at the end of the assignment: ensure the transaction proceeds smoothly and bring back the token safely.


Pei Zhuo thought for a moment.


If the target dies unfortunately... then just killing everyone present and bringing this token back to the employer can be considered as ensuring that the transaction is successfully completed, right?


The boss was very straightforward; within minutes, the 100,000 deposit was transferred to his account.


He took out a bowl of pickled noodles, opened the sauce packet, and meticulously squeezed every last drop of red, greasy sauce onto the noodles, then poured in a tasteless low-grade nutrition pill, mixed it evenly with freshly boiled water, closed the lid, and waited patiently for five minutes.


In this new era where one can live for a month with a single dose of low-grade nutritional supplements, cooking—a survival skill that was once indispensable to every household—became more of a useless luxury for the common people. The art of preparing gourmet dishes turned into a form of entertainment, and convenience foods, with their emphasis on ease, continually lost out in terms of cost-effectiveness, ultimately gathering dust in warehouses as they languished unsold.


Except for Pei Zhuo.


He himself seemed like a relic from the past, possessing many strange little quirks—for example, his love of eating.


Though because he was poor, he could only afford instant noodles produced ten years ago.


Or perhaps he ran into the old goods market and purchased an 18-hand bicycle, claiming it didn't require a driver's license and thus wouldn't attract the attention of traffic police.


There was also a quartz clock with a broken minute hand, a sweeping robot that was sixty years out of warranty... Like a hamster who loved buying expired goods, Pei Zhuo hoarded a house full of junk.


His understanding of the outside world came entirely from N's half-abandoned library.


The library preserved many ancient paper publications. Sunlight shone through the skylight, reflecting the fine dust; the scent of the old days wafted between each line, like a mother's embrace.


Even now, Pei Zhuo harbored an inexplicable fondness for relics of the past.



-



Estimating that the instant noodles were nearly done cooking, Pei Zhuo tore off the paper lid and lowered his head to take a slurp. The fresh spiciness and steamy heat rushed up his nose, warmth diffusing from his stomach to fill him with the illusion that he could live for many years.


He sniffed.


...


The joy of being alive lasted only ten minutes, until the mood lifted by the instant noodles disappeared with the food.


After finishing the last drop of soup, Pei Zhuo tidied up the table and returned to his bedroom, where he opened his closet and took out his most valuable possession: a safe touted for its ability to withstand the destructive power of most innate talents.


Inside were twenty-two diluted doses of stabilizer, as well as various containers holding N's different types of ability storage tubes.


Ability storage tubes were single-use, but not for Pei Zhuo.


S-level talent—Mirror Image:


Duplication of opponents talents for use. S-level or lower talents can be fully duplicated, while S-level talents become A+ level upon duplication. Duplication is effective for 24 hours, The talent cannot be copied twice within the 24 hours period.


Brightly colored ability storage tubes lay scattered across the floor. Pei Zhuo casually knelt beside the safe, slender fingers fiddling with the containers, making soft, crisp noises like a child picking out their favorite candy.


No one would guess he was an S-level talent user.


Currently, there were 312 recorded S-level talent users worldwide and 48 within their own country alone. Among these 48 domestic S-level, Dragon Scale held twelve.


But N wasn't one to be trifled with either, even under relentless pursuit from Dragon Scale for thirty years. Not only did he possess several illegal S-level experimental bodies, but he had once created a unique experimental body whose innate talent approached the fundamental law of causality.


Experimental Subject No. 001 possessed the S-level talent- Bestowal:


The user could ignore any conditions and strip away any level of talent, with a success rate of 10% and a cooldown period of 1 hour. The user could then bestow any talent upon another (including themselves). The success rate was 50%, with the talent remaining permanently until it was successfully bestowed again.


Unfortunately, 001 died six years ago due to an accident in the treatment room.


Pei Zhuo had seen 001 before.


He felt neither fondness nor resentment toward him, nor did he mourn his death like a fox grieving over a dead rabbit's corpse. Just like the used lid of the instant noodle bowl, it was just a formality. While the actual flavor that left a lasting impression on his memory and brought tears to his eyes came from the chopsticks themselves, not 001 himself.


Even though he had often been locked up with the irrational 001 to serve as a pacifier, highly compatible pheromones permeated the treatment room, each side refusing to yield, like two young beasts still harboring their primal instincts, tearing at one another until both were covered in scars—dreams filled with those unfocused eyes of alpha.


He selected five ability storage tubes and inserted them into his pocket, then shoved the remainder back into the safe without much thought.


"Clang."


Something blackened and deformed fell from his touch—a piece of circular metal that seemed to be some kind of pendant, upon which a few numbers could just barely be made out.


"0#1."


Pei Zhuo was taken aback for a moment.


It had been a long time since he last saw this item; he originally thought it had gotten lost when he moved. Now, it unexpectedly reappeared at such a crucial juncture, as if hinting at something.


In a flash, he lowered his gaze, tracing the pendant gently with his fingertips, then glanced toward the nearby trashcan before sweeping his gaze over the safe. After a brief hesitation, he carefully placed it back inside.


-


Ten days later, suburbs of S City.


The wind in the suburbs blew against Pei Zhuo's wide white t-shirt, vaguely outlining his narrow waist.


Leaning against the car, he lifted his head slightly and absent-mindedly adjusted the black leather collar around his neck. The edges were smooth, but perhaps due to his physique, the skin at his nape was rubbed red, leaving a patch of contrast on his fair skin that was almost glaring.


This was an omega's gland protector, also the only protective gear on Pei Zhuo's body. Compared to the bodyguards surrounding him, he was like a rabbit who had accidentally wandered into a wolf's den.


Pei Zhuo paid no mind to the strange or greedy gazes cast his way, instead studying the abandoned factory before him with dark eyes devoid of emotion. After a moment, he flicked the mole on his earlobe.


Something wasn't right.


Amidst this crowd, he was the only ability user present.


Although normal bodyguards could deal with an ability user, the special bullets they used had interference dust that could weaken an ability user's talent to a certain extent. However, it was still not enough.


If the other party sent out more than two A-level ability users, it would be a little difficult to deal with.


Pei Zhuo pondered for a moment.


It didn't matter. If plan A didn't work, there was still plan B. In any case, he was determined to get the 600,000.


There were still ten minutes before the transaction time.


The wind blew sand against the old tree at the entrance of the factory, and the sun's rays blazed down, heating up the car body until it felt scalding to the touch. The world was still peaceful, and Pei Zhuo grew drowsy.


Suddenly, his ears twitched, and his shoulders tensed. His eyes snapped open as he stared sharply into the distance with piercing intensity.


"Click."


A dagger fell effortlessly into his palm.


This was Pei Zhuo's usual duplication talent—Metal Perception, A-level.


Everyone around him was startled, but before anyone could speak, there came a loud rumble from afar, like distant thunder.


Boom!


The earth trembled, and pebbles rolled, making one feel unsteady on their feet. Thick clouds of dust billowed upward from the southeast, mixed with the unique sparkle of interference powder, like a fallen nebula.


It was the sound of ability users fighting, and there seemed to be quite a lot of people.


Could it be that this was not the real transaction site?


Pei Zhuo's expression changed slightly. He turned around and picked up the so-called "protected target". With a bang, he slammed the person on the hood of the car and said coldly, "If the transaction over there fails, does it count as a failure of my mission?"


The target was caught off guard and fell to the ground with a bloody nose. His sunglasses cracked, revealing the frightened eyes underneath. "Wha-"


The cold blade was silently pressed against his neck. Pei Zhuo did not have the attitude of an employee at all. He lowered his eyes and said softly, "I don't listen to nonsense. Yes or no?"


"Yes, yes..."


After receiving a positive answer, Pei Zhuo made a "tsk" sound and put away the dagger.


"Your boss has bad taste," he commented.


Then he picked up the still bleeding target like a rag and walked to the car under the frightened gazes of the crowd. He stopped and tilted his head in confusion, as if he did not understand the reaction of the crowd.


Furthermore, these people were utterly hopeless, having forgotten to hand over their own car keys.


He waited for a moment, but seeing that nobody offered them voluntarily, he reached out to take it himself. "Car keys."


A minute later, the engine roared, and the black off-road vehicle abruptly turned around. Drawing a beautiful arc, it turned out of the gate of the abandoned factory in a cloud of dust, leaving behind the target who was lying on the ground and the dumbfounded bodyguards who were dumbfounded.


-


The explosion occurred about two kilometers from the abandoned factory.


It was likely that the boss had chosen two locations to confuse the target's senses and ensure the deal went smoothly. In order to pass off the fake as the real deal, he had even placed an A-level ability user in the fake transaction site.


Pei Zhuo's information on the black market indicated he was an A-level ability user, seemingly ordinary at first glance. However, aside from his ability, which was merely copied, all other indicators were S-level.


Pei Zhuo glanced at the special timer on his wrist.


There were still twenty minutes left before Metal Perception expired. This extra time had been reserved for emergencies, allowing him one last chance to duplicate if necessary. There was also a rare ability storage tube in his pocket that could isolate the interference dust.


Soon, the black off-road vehicle silently stopped near the edge of the area affected by the dust cloud like a fleeting shadow.


He rolled down the window, took out a pink cartoon rabbit mask, and put it on, then stuck his head out to examine the scene with a frown.


Given the amount of dust and the sound of the explosion...there could not possibly be any survivors at this location. If the token used to verify the transaction hadn't been destroyed in the blast, perhaps he could find it, bring it back, and negotiate a reward with the boss.


A gangster's motto: Now that you've come, you might as well stay.


Out of caution, Pei Zhuo chose to maintain his original Metal Perception and directly crushed the ability storage tube.


One-time use, effective for 15 minutes.


...



Three minutes later, standing amidst the ruins, Pei Zhuo regretted his life motto for the first time in his life.


Beneath the rubble of the explosion lay a haggard figure, clothes tattered and breaths shallow, silver-gray hair caked with dust, a large patch of blood trickling down from the forehead to dye those glass-clear yet unfocused eyes. In the palm of his left hand was clutched an object that appeared to be the token.


Pei Zhuo's gaze slowly traveled downward, stopping at the person's waist.


The experimental subject created by N would have a special mark, which only manifested when they were extremely weak, making it convenient for researchers to determine whether the experimental subject still possessed any aggression.


On the firm muscles that rose and fell slightly in sync with the shallow breathing, beneath the bloodstains and burns, a familiar mark abruptly appeared:


"001."


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