Chapter One: A Cat's Calamity

Li Nanke slowly awakened.

His cheek rested against cold, hard tiles; the warm pool of blood had long since cooled, half his face submerged in it, the metallic scent invading his nostrils relentlessly.

The blood flowed from the corpse of a ragdoll cat before him.

Supporting himself, Li Nanke sat upright, feeling pain in every inch of his body—the most intense radiating from the back of his head. He reached back and found a clump of dried blood matted into hair.

The hair was mid-length, not his own cropped style.

This body wasn’t his either, but that of a tall, melancholy, disheveled white man.

He looked around at the unfamiliar, wrecked home—shards of glass and broken furniture littered the floor, clear evidence of a violent robbery.

Against his will, Li Nanke cradled the ragdoll cat in the pool of blood; its little body was already stiffening. Though he felt no affection for this animal, a heavy sadness inexplicably welled up inside him.

“V was the only thing left to me by my late wife. On every lonely, sleepless night, it was the only companion at my side…”

These hoarse words slipped from his mouth unbidden. He carried the cat down the corridor into the garage.

His beloved vintage car had vanished from the center of the garage. Faces twisted in wild grins flashed through his mind.

Li Nanke walked into the yard outside the home and buried the cat himself.

“Those bastards—I’ll make them pay in blood for what they’ve done!”

Rage blazed in his chest, his breath hot and searing. Clenching his fists, he swore each word with deliberate force.

Yet neither the grief nor the fury were Li Nanke’s own—they belonged to the original owner of the body. The emotions tore at his consciousness, a clear disconnect from his thoughts, as if watching an overwrought melodrama—he felt not empathy but a faint distaste.

He could clearly sense the strength of this body, but his movements were clumsy, as though drunk and unable to control his limbs properly.

All his senses—sight, touch, hearing—were dulled, as if separated from the world by frosted glass.

Steeling himself, Li Nanke focused and tried to fully inhabit the identity of this man named Johnny.

Gradually, the pale dawn light spilled across the sky, the chorus of insects rose in the yard, the earthy scent of freshly piled grave soil, the lingering fatigue of a hangover… All these sensations surged over him like a flood, shattering the haze of his senses.

Emotions and memories grew ever sharper and deeper, as though he’d lived through every agony himself.

He was Johnny.

At the same time, memories of his former self faded into unfamiliarity…

Li Nanke did not follow the expected path—he did not descend into the basement to smash open the cement slab and retrieve hidden firearms.

Instead, wresting control from some invisible force, he went up to the second-floor bedroom.

Ignoring the voice prompts echoing in his ears, he retrieved a bank card full of wealth from a concealed compartment in the nightstand, then left quickly.

The city center, an unremarkable building.

This nondescript tower was the infamous headquarters of the underworld’s assassins, offering logistics, medical care, contract killing, firearms, intelligence—anything money could buy, nothing was off limits.

Perhaps influenced by Johnny’s memories, Li Nanke found this absurd “assassin headquarters” perfectly reasonable.

“Oh my God—who is this? Isn’t it Johnny, the retired legend?”

“Short on cash, Johnny? Planning one last big job?”

After verifying his identity, a Black attendant led Li Nanke to the front desk, unable to contain his surprise.

“My cat died. It was killed.”

The blonde receptionist was breathtakingly alluring, her V-neck plunging almost to her navel. She’d long admired Johnny, the legendary assassin, and was just about to smile at him when his words stunned her into silence.

Everyone in the underworld knew how formidable Johnny was—rumor had it he once killed fifty men in a bar using only a pencil.

Such a fearsome killer retired for the sake of a beloved woman.

Though Johnny had left the game, his legend lived on. It was said his wife had died not long ago, leaving him only a cat…

“Mr. Johnny, the damned murderer will surely regret this.”

“Are your services still available to me?”

“Of course. What do you need, Mr. Johnny?”

“Guns. Lots of guns.”

Li Nanke took the tablet from the receptionist and slid his bank card across the counter…

JF911 single-soldier rocket launcher, Titan 10A grenade launcher, Night Raven B2 5.8mm automatic rifle, Reaper 520 7.62mm precision sniper rifle, Hellhound 7.62mm chain-fed machine gun, M99 fragmentation grenades, RLQ high-explosive grenades…

The receptionist couldn’t help but gasp inwardly—such firepower was more than enough for a battlefield. She silently mourned for the unlucky soul who killed the cat.

“Mr. Johnny, everything you need will be ready in two hours. Where should we deliver it?”

“Book me a room. I’ll wait here. Also, help me purchase some items not on the list.”

She hesitated, then nodded instinctively.

Li Nanke scribbled out a list. The receptionist glanced at it and gasped, wide-eyed.

“Mr. Johnny, you… you…”

She stammered for a long moment, biting her lip, her gaze almost liquid with seduction. “Mr. Johnny, if you… um, need anything… my shift ends at noon. May I buy you a drink?”

“No. That’s a different price.”

Li Nanke tossed out the words without context, picked up his room key, and strode toward the elevator, leaving the receptionist bewildered.

The list was clear: ropes for bondage, crotchless attire, gags, whips, candles, spiked clubs, and more.

“Extra services aren’t impossible—but it’ll cost more.”

Li Nanke muttered to himself in the elevator, though clearly not to the receptionist.

Three hours later.

The roar of an engine echoed like a beast through the mountain road, startling flocks of birds.

The sentries at the hilltop mansion were suddenly alarmed—an oversized SUV barreled straight toward them!

“Stop! This is Mr. Brown’s estate—”

Boom!

Before the words finished, a rocket streaked through the air, trailing flames and smoke—instantly, the mansion’s gate shattered and collapsed.

Amid swirling dust, the SUV burst through and never slowed. Gun barrels protruded from the windows, bullets cut down two gang sentries as the car sped toward the central villa.

The massive tires tore across the lawn, accompanied by the gardener’s cries, clippings and mud flying everywhere, leaving deep, savage scars.

With a screech, the SUV fishtailed to a stop before the villa’s entrance.

Even through thick doors, the pounding rock music and wild screams inside were audible…

The grenade launcher was mounted on the car window—fire erupted from its muzzle.

Splintered wood sprayed, explosions silenced the revelers’ voices, leaving only chaotic music and flickering lights. Terror and shock filled every pair of eyes as they gazed toward the door.

A tall, disheveled man strode in, dressed in a sharp suit, gray shirt unbuttoned at the collar, mid-length hair tangled, beard unkempt.

He stepped past several bodies by the door, riddled with shrapnel and tattoos, guns slung across his shoulder, holstered at his waist, and gripped in his hands—cold steel everywhere.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please… go to hell.”

The swirling lights and shrieks could not drown out the thunderous gunfire. In his pristine suit, moving with swift, brutal precision, the flames of vengeance blazed in the strobing glare.

Music and gunfire merged into a symphony, with the soul’s howl of rock vocals forging a path to hell’s gates.

“My heart frozen, numb to all manipulation…”

Boom!

“I am exhausted, yet suddenly awakened…”

Boom!

“…I transform back to myself, breaking all bonds and chains…”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

As the rock song ended, Li Nanke shot out the computer controlling the surround sound—the music ceased, and the bar-converted hall fell silent.

But moments ago, the hall of revelry had become a slaughterhouse, bodies and limbs strewn everywhere, ghastly beneath the shifting lights.

Now, only two men remained, one Black and one white, cowering in the corner, breathing hard.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Ignoring their cries, Li Nanke stepped forward and tied up the limp, trembling Little Brown, the mastermind behind it all.

Up close, Little Brown finally saw the devil’s face.

“It’s you!”

Wasn’t this guy just a useless drunkard? How could he be more terrifying than the devil?

Little Brown was filled with regret—he should never have stolen the car last night… No, after stealing it, he should have killed the owner to cover his tracks!

Though that would have turned a robbery into a murder, anything was better than this nightmare…

He glanced at the carnage—the hall strewn with corpses, his gang reduced to one survivor. He was on the verge of madness. All for stealing an old car—was it really worth it?

“Don’t—don’t kill me! I didn’t sell your car; I’ll return it to you, just don’t kill me!”

Little Brown stammered in terror, shouting at the surviving Black henchman, “What are you waiting for? Take this gentleman to get the keys!”

But the burly Black henchman, staring down the gun barrel, dared not budge.

Li Nanke shook his head slowly. “If it were only about the car, I wouldn’t be here… You shouldn’t have killed my cat.”

Little Brown’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes wide.

“For fuck’s sake, you killed all these people over a cat?!”

He screamed internally, realizing he was doomed—he’d crossed the most unreasonable kind of person: a cat lover.

“I’m the son of Old Brown, leader of the Brotherhood! You can’t kill me! I swear, if you do, my father will stop at nothing to destroy you!”

“I know Old Brown.”

Little Brown’s greatest fear was that his opponent didn’t know the Brotherhood’s notorious leader—ignorance meant reckless violence.

But hearing this, he brightened, thinking there was room for negotiation. “Sir, please take your car and let’s pretend this never happened… What are you doing, fuck!”

Li Nanke calmly unzipped his tactical pack and tossed out a round, bloody object.

It rolled to Little Brown’s feet—the face of a middle-aged man, twisted in agony and madness, unmistakably the result of a violent death.

Little Brown froze, utterly terrified—the head belonged to his father, Old Brown, the Brotherhood leader.

“You killed my cat. I killed your father. That’s fair.”

Li Nanke tossed the pack in front of the Black henchman, spilling its contents—colorful items everywhere.

He lifted his gun toward the man. “Beat him.”

The burly Black man stared, bewildered, not understanding.

“You know what to do—unless you want to die.”

Gazing at the gun, he finally understood. Swallowing hard, he gingerly picked up the spiked club, gag, blue pills, and other items from the floor.

“You’re a devil! An absolute devil… mmph!”

Li Nanke glanced at his watch. “Two hours—not a second less.”

Two hours later, Little Brown lay battered and limp on the ground, his expression numb, eyes lifeless, too exhausted for even a scream.

The Black henchman panted heavily, clearly spent from the beating.

Li Nanke’s gaze was icy and calm. “You beat me once; now I’ve had you beaten. That’s fair.”

He stepped forward and removed Little Brown’s gag.

The broken man rasped, “Even in hell, I won’t forgive you. Who are you—who are you really…”

“Tell Satan my name is Johnny.”

Little Brown’s pupils contracted, finally connecting the disheveled man before him to the legendary killer.

Bang! Bang!

Two crisp shots echoed, and the hall fell silent.

With everything done, Li Nanke picked up a bottle from the floor and left the villa.

By then, the distant wail of sirens finally arrived, several police cars racing toward the mansion gates.

He returned to the SUV, gently stroking his newly adopted Siamese kitten, which nuzzled his palm affectionately.

Li Nanke ignored the approaching police cars, raised his glass to the air:

“To a pleasant cooperation.”

He drank deeply, the fiery liquor burning down his throat, searing his insides…

Meanwhile, darkness surged like a tidal wave, roaring and overwhelming, swallowing everything in sight, drowning all sensation.

In the haze, a mechanical voice—neither male nor female—sounded again.

[Final node complete. Dream transcription finished!]
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