287: Abyss Game

Chapter 287: Abyss Game - "Don't look outside."

Ruan Qiushui reminded, "Look at your two o'clock. That man in the trench coat has been observing you through the glass's reflection since he boarded the train."

Chen Mo slightly tilted his head.

A man was sitting at the two o'clock position.

The man had a thin mustache, wore a pair of sunglasses, and held an electronic newspaper in his hand.

But his fingers weren't flipping pages; instead, they were tapping at the same spot.

It was Morse code.

Target confirmed.

Chen Mo understood the meaning of that series of taps.

"Bounty hunter?" he asked in his mind.

"Not sure," Ruan Qiushui analyzed. "But he has a signal transmitter on him, and he's broadcasting your location. If we don't handle this, there'll be dozens of gun barrels pointed at you at the next stop."

Chen Mo reached into his pocket and gripped something that had almost gone extinct in this world.

An old-fashioned fountain pen.

It was something he had picked up conveniently in the locker room.

"How far to the next stop?"

"Three minutes."

Enough.

Chen Mo stood up.

He walked toward the man unsteadily, looking like a cheap cyborg whose battery was leaking.

"Excuse me... excuse me..."

As he passed by the man, his legs gave way, and he collapsed toward the other person.

The man instinctively reached out to steady him, or rather, to block him.

At the moment they made contact.

Chen Mo's left hand clamped onto the man's wrist like a steel pincer, his immense grip strength instantly crushing the carpal bones.

"Mmph!"

Just as the man opened his mouth to scream in pain, the fountain pen was already pressed under his chin, its cold tip piercing the skin.

"Shh."

Chen Mo pinned him to the seat, his movements as natural as two old friends hugging. "Don't make a sound. This pen can go straight into your brainstem."

The surrounding passengers remained glued to their screens; no one looked up.

In this city, the first rule of longevity was to mind your own business.

"Who sent you?" Chen Mo asked in a low whisper by his ear.

The man in sunglasses was sweating profusely from the pain, but a strange smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"You won't get away, Chen Mo."

The man lowered his voice. "Every camera in the city is looking for you. That heart of yours is like a beacon. The Black Skins have already set their nets under the 'Ladder'."

"And?"

"Give me the box on your back."

The man stared at Chen Mo's backpack. "Someone is paying a high price for that. Give it to me, and I'll tell you an escape route for this train."

The box again.

Before Chen Mo could speak, green text on his retina suddenly began to flicker frantically.

"He's lying. He has a micro-bomb strapped to him that will explode if his heartbeat stops or the signal is interrupted. He's a human beacon."

The "Ghost" was warning him.

"Want to live? Gouge out the prosthetic eye in his left eye. That's the detonator."

Chen Mo was stunned for a moment.

"What? Don't believe me?" the man continued to provoke. "You can kill me, but I guarantee everyone in this carriage will be buried with me."

He was indeed smiling—that specific, suicidal smile of a desperate outlaw.

Chen Mo did not hesitate.

He believed the green text.

Not just because of intuition, but because that insane logic was too similar to his current situation.

Puchi.

Without any warning.

Chen Mo's fingers plunged directly into the man's left eye socket.

Blood splattered.

"Aaagh—!!!"

The scream finally alerted the surrounding passengers.

Screams erupted everywhere, and the carriage instantly fell into chaos.

Chen Mo forcibly gouged out the mechanical eyeball that was still flashing with red light, along with several twitching nerve wires.

He kicked away the man who was rolling on the floor clutching his face, held the eyeball in his hand, and smashed it hard against the carriage floor.

Crack.

The eyeball shattered, and the red light inside went out.

"Emergency braking! Emergency braking!"

A piercing alarm sounded through the carriage broadcast.

The train jerked violently, and the massive inertia threw everyone off balance.

Chen Mo grabbed a handrail and stabilized himself.

"Nicely done."

Green text scrolled past like a bullet screen: "Now, open that window. We need to jump off before the train pulls into the station."

"That's suicide!" Ruan Qiushui shouted. "The current speed is 180 kilometers per hour, we're on a viaduct, and there's a thousand-meter abyss below!"

"Staying on the train is suicide."

Chen Mo glanced at the carriage coupling, where several transit police officers with guns were already rushing over.

He swung his alloy-forged left arm and smashed it hard against the tempered glass.

Bang!

The glass didn't budge.

"Not enough power!" Ruan Qiushui said urgently.

"Then make it enough."

A violent, high-frequency hum suddenly emanated from the box on his back.

Chen Mo felt a surge of current injected directly from his spine into his heart.

Thump!

That wasn't a heartbeat; it was an explosion.

The Nuclear Heart pump instantly overclocked, and his vision turned blood-red.

Power—violent and uncontrollable power—flooded his arm like magma.

"Break... open!"

Boom!

This time, the entire window along with its metal frame was blown outward.

Gale-force winds carrying rainwater poured in, making Chen Mo's face sting.

He looked back at the stunned transit police, a ferocious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Then he leaped.

His body tumbled in the air, falling toward the bottomless city abyss shimmering with countless neon lights.

Amidst the howling wind, the line of green text appeared again, carrying a hint of mockery:

"Welcome to the real playground, Ghost. Remember, if you don't want to turn into meat paste when you land, jam your left arm into the wall of that building next to you."

"Oh, by the way, this service comes with a fee."

...The wind sounded like ten thousand whistles blowing in his ears at once.

Weightlessness tugged at his stomach. Chen Mo felt like a bullet fired from a gun barrel, crashing toward the thick light curtain of the ground in free fall.

Raindrops stung as they hit his face.

The green text on his retina flickered frantically, finally turning into a giant countdown:

"3."

The smooth glass curtain walls of buildings flashed past his eyes. Human figures, desks, and holographic potted plants inside became blurred blocks of color.

"2."

Chen Mo gritted his teeth, adjusted his posture, and raised his smoking left arm above his head, his five alloy fingers curving into claws.

"1. Strike!"

Boom!

Chen Mo swung his arm violently, his mechanical hand gouging into the metal frame of the building's outer wall.

The sensation was like using a spoon to dig into frozen ice cream.

The alloy fingertips pierced the composite armor plates, making a tooth-aching sound of tearing metal.

Screeech—!

A waterfall of sparks over ten meters long exploded above his head, illuminating the pitch-black rainy night.

The massive reaction force nearly tore his shoulder out of its socket.

The hydraulic rods in his left arm let out a deathbed wail, and red overload warnings flooded his field of vision.

His speed slowed down.

But it wasn't enough.

Below was a terrace.

"Crash in!" Ruan Qiushui shouted.

Without her saying it, Chen Mo had already released his fingers. Using his inertia, he curled his body and slammed his shoulder against the expensive-looking bulletproof floor-to-ceiling window.

Crash!

The reinforced glass seemed incredibly fragile under the impact driven by the Nuclear Heart.

Countless crystalline shards rolled onto the thick, long-piled carpet along with Chen Mo.

He slid four or five meters across the floor, knocking over a display stand holding an antique vase before finally coming to a stop.

"Cough... cough cough..."

Chen Mo propped up his upper body and spat out some bloody foam.

His left arm was completely jammed, hanging stiffly from his shoulder like a fire poker, with black machine oil seeping out of the joints.

"Landing score: 6 points."

The line of green text leisurely appeared, carrying a tone of schadenfreude: "Deductions: Inelegant posture, and you broke my signal receiver."

The metal box in the backpack was indeed still vibrating, but the frequency was erratic.

Chen Mo ignored this crazy AI.

He looked around warily.

This was an extremely luxurious... operating room?

No, it looked more like a private museum.

The room was large, with no windows except for the floor-to-ceiling one that showed the city's neon lights outside.

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