Wei Tianyang continued to scroll through the call log on his phone. Apart from his daughter, most of the calls were from unlisted numbers featuring long strings of digits. He guessed these numbers were either from the organization behind her or were local scam calls.
Thinking of Ishmael and the others whose situations were unclear, Wei Tianyang decided to investigate the clues in the woman’s phone later. After using the woman’s finger to turn off the fingerprint lock, he pocketed the phone.
On the ground lay a sniper rifle and a pistol, but he had no intention of touching them, knowing well that the weapons from the Superpower Special Department would have been secured. Even if he found a way to unlock them, maintaining the weapons and supplying ammunition would be impracticable.
Wei Tianyang manipulated the soil, burying the woman and her weapons into the ground. She was an enemy, but also a mother.
The rain continued to pour as Wei Tianyang looked up at the sky. He had absorbed the woman’s superpower and closed his eyes, beginning to feel the fresh power seeping deep into his heart.
Countless raindrops acted like tiny mirrors, reflecting their form on his body.
They formed in the clouds, carried by the wind, pulled toward the ground by gravity.
Opening his eyes, his pupils flickered with a red light as he felt as though countless versions of himself were falling, body against body.
He took a deep breath, and suddenly, the raindrops’ descent magically halted, accumulating a hundred meters above his head in just seconds, forming a large cube of water.
Wei Tianyang reached out his right hand towards the sky, gently stirring it as if he was moving the clouds, or parting the wind, making the water cube move through the air according to his will.
Could it take another form?
He pondered, sculpting the water cube like a sculptor, but the strain on his right hand was rapid. Soon, his right forearm looked skeletal as the water cube dispersed into a great wave that crashed violently to the ground.
He sighed. This ability was potent but dependent on the weather and more draining than controlling soil. He needed more practice.
After flying back to the platform, he began searching for Ishmael and the others. The giant wave had swept all the corpses off the platform, even shattering the glass elevator shaft.
He found no one and grew anxious. Just as he was about to fly down to check, he heard the metal door of the nearby stairway being kicked open.
Starbucks, drenched, came out first, holding a precision sniper rifle, his bronze skin glistening. Following him was Ishmael, wielding a shiny silver long-barreled revolver, his white hair clinging to his cheeks as rain slid down his neckline into the slight swell of his chest.
"Ishmael!"
Ishmael ran toward him, tightly grabbing his bloody left hand. Seeing his skeletal right arm, he guessed what had happened.
The next second, the sharp pain in his left palm, pierced by a dagger, ceased as Wei Tianyang looked down to see Ishmael squinting, his left hand covered in blood.
With no bodies available on the platform, Ishmael had used his own.
However, the injury was not severe; he didn’t need to do that.
"Is it over?" Ishmael asked.
Wei Tianyang nodded.
Ishmael pulled out his phone and made a call. Seeing the displeased expression on Wei Tianyang’s face, he knew it was Moby Dick calling.
"We’re temporarily safe," he said dismissively.
Wei Tianyang looked into the distance as Moby Dick’s convoy approached.
He raised his right hand, and the raindrops no longer fell but slowly gathered in midair.
The others looked at Wei Tianyang in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words.
Ishmael knew what he was planning and clutched his arm tightly, looking up and whispering, "Not yet..."
Wei Tianyang ignored him, the accumulated rain in the sky growing more substantial, quickly forming another five-story-high water cube.
It was hundreds of meters above the ground, a direct impact sufficient to smash the two vehicles and the people inside into flattened metal.
"Not yet, Ishmael, we still need him," Ishmael pleaded.
As the vehicles drew closer, Wei Tianyang looked back at Ishmael, who wore a beseeching expression.
"He will definitely die by your hands... but not now," Yaha added.
Wei Tianyang sighed, loosening his grip, and the water cube dispersed, forming several air waterfalls, cascading downwards.
Then, he grabbed Yaha’s bloody hand, causing Yaha to grit his teeth in pain.
"Before we become tickets, you’d better sever your ties with Red Pharmaceutical."
While saying this, Wei Tianyang took a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around Yaha’s wound.
After finishing these tasks, he walked alone into the stairwell.
These stairs were built within the steel pillars of the support platform; if the elevator was out of service, this was the only way down.
However, the nightmare-like height made climbing the stairs a severe test of physical endurance.
Everyone had moved down to the ground floor, the platform overhead blocking the rain, and they took advantage of the time before Moby Dick’s arrival to take off their wet coats and wring them out.
Yaha asked Wei Tianyang for help and led him behind a distant steel pillar.
After taking off his white trench coat, he handed it to Wei Tianyang, then tilted his head to wring out his long hair, creating a puddle of water.
Wei Tianyang stood five steps away, watching as Yaha stood with his back to him; after wringing out his hair, he also took off his white shirt trying to wring it dry. His upper body was bare, his wet, fair skin covered with water trails, his shoulder blades and spinal line glistening with droplets.
This silhouette was unforgettable and made him wonder, should he start referring to Yaha as "she" instead of "he"?
After wringing for a while, Yaha, holding his chest, turned around and said, "Give me the coat."
"You haven’t put on your shirt yet," Wei Tianyang said.
"I want to try to dry the shirt a bit more, just holding it for now," Yaha said.
Wei Tianyang did as asked, and after Yaha got dressed, he handed her the white shirt. At this moment, it was in an airing state.
Yaha asked Wei Tianyang to also take off his clothes so she could help him wring them, but Wei Tianyang refused, saying, "I was covered in blood and mud before, now it’s just like taking a bath."
The two walked back, and Moby Dick had already arrived, still wearing that out-of-place jungle camouflage raincoat. He was down to only four bodyguards, so everyone seemed a bit tense.
"Watson..." Yaha was about to speak when Moby Dick gestured to interrupt her.
"I know, I know, I’ve already seen it," Moby Dick chuckled.
He turned to a Caucasian bodyguard and asked, "You, what’s your name?"
The Caucasian bodyguard respectfully replied, "I’m Cade, sir."
"Very good, dear Cade, you’ll take over Watson’s duties from now on," Moby Dick said.
Cade straightened up a bit and said, "Thank you, sir!"
Moby Dick ignored him and walked straight up to Wei Tianyang, pulling out a brand-new black mobile phone from his pocket and handing it to him.
"Ishmael, this is something entrusted to me by my superiors to give to you," he smiled.
Wei Tianyang took the phone and pressed the power button; there was no fingerprint lock.
"You shouldn’t have handled such a thing before, right? I believe Yaha will teach you," Moby Dick said, glancing at Yaha.
"Oh? Not worried I might tamper with the phone?" Yaha laughed.
"Is it to let us figure out who we need more? Hmm?" Moby Dick mocked.
Yaha smiled, her eyes sharp.
Moby Dick walked toward the large iron sphere hanging in mid-air, spread his arms, and laughed, "Another one gathered into our fold, keep it up, you bunch of greenhorns! Soon, we’ll be able to drive Tiantai out of this crappy little country of East Continent!"