He had no money, and even if he had, he would not have paid it.
Anyone with eyes could tell that they were scammers.
When he refused to pay, however, they would not let him leave. He had used the last of his strength in an attempt to shake off the two thugs and escape, but he had failed.
Now they had cornered him at the end of the street, and he was struggling to stop them from searching him.
During the scuffle, his terminal was torn from his wrist. One of the thugs fiddled with it a few times, casually threw it to the ground, and stepped on it. He spat, “Bah! A grown man like you is still wearing a digital watch!”
The device had looked shiny and well made, so he had assumed it was a luxury watch. Instead, it was the most ordinary digital watch imaginable—almost weightless in his hand, without so much as a gemstone on it. It was obviously plastic.
It was useless now anyway.
He kept his throat tightly closed, not daring to cry out. He feared that if he ended up in a police station, he would be in even greater trouble than they were.
Suddenly, a fierce gust cut through the night air. With a crisp thud, something struck the thug who had taken his terminal in the head, knocking him straight to the ground.
The other thug, who was still fighting Chi Junyan for his wallet, stood stunned for a long moment before reacting. Just as he turned to look, he too received a blow from a bat and collapsed on top of his companion.
The man was exceptionally tall and straight-backed, and he was dressed with meticulous care. Even though Chi Junyan did not recognize this world’s brands, he could tell that the man was wealthy.
And yet this respectable man in a suit and leather shoes was holding a baseball bat, bouncing it against his palm again and again with a restless, vicious air.
“Thank you.”
He crouched down and retrieved his terminal. For the most part, it was now useless, but it was the only thing that still connected him to his own world.
The moment he stood, his vision blurred and he nearly fainted.
He leaned against the wall. It took him a long while before he could see clearly again.
…
Shao Siyan casually handed the baseball bat to the driver, who had come running over out of breath, and indicated the two men on the ground. “Deal with them.”
Holding the “weapon” his boss had just used to beat someone, the driver felt as though it were burning his hands.
Trying his hardest not to look at whether the two men on the ground were dead or alive, he quietly asked his boss for instructions. “Should I call the police?”
The surroundings were awful. The intersection behind them was pitch-black; who knew whether several more men might suddenly leap out?
Shao Siyan ignored him and merely watched the person he had rescued.
The driver groaned inwardly, wondering why Assistant Wen had resigned. He truly had no idea how to handle a situation like this!
Shao Siyan leisurely studied Mr. Con Artist for a while before saying, “You offer quite a range of services.”
Chi Junyan’s vision was full of dancing spots, and all his energy was devoted to preventing himself from losing consciousness. He had no attention to spare for anything else. It took him a long time to realize that Shao Siyan probably had not said anything pleasant.
He forced his voice a little louder and pleaded, “Could you help me buy an inhibitor?”
Something that would block mental power and forcibly erect a barrier, keeping his precarious mental world from collapsing.
“An inhibitor?” Shao Siyan did not understand. “What is that?”