In the darkness, the blue light emanating from the television and the cigarette smoke intertwined. Cigarette smoke filled the room, drifting through the air, rippling and swaying within the light beam as if it were alive. Alister set his coffee cup down on the table, the ceramic clinking softly against the wood. His fingers trembled slightly, and though the aroma of coffee permeated the room, it now tasted like nothing. He stared at the man in the black coat, his voice trembling as he asked the question.

  "Where will we run to?"

  The man in the black coat glanced out the window. His eyes seemed to gleam even in the darkness, as if he could see at once the snow-covered streets outside, the distant city lights, and the trees lining the road. His breathing remained steady, but his voice carried an urgent edge.

  "It's not a question of where we'll run to... If we don't leave right now, both you and I will turn to ashes along with this house. There's no time to hesitate, Arthur. Follow me!"

  As he finished speaking, he wrenched the door open. The doorknob felt ice-cold against his palm, and the old wooden door groaned loudly on its hinges. Alister hesitated for a moment, then followed. Each of their footsteps creaked on the worn wooden stairs, and dust particles drifted down from the banister. As they descended to the lower floor, the screech of car brakes pierced the air from outside, followed by the consecutive slamming of doors. The sound felt as if it were boring straight into their hearts.

  "The target is inside! Try to take him alive; if not, shoot him in the leg!" A harsh, commanding voice boomed from outside. The voice echoed in the air, making the entire house seem to tremble.

  "Boom!"

  The front door shattered under a hail of gunfire, splintering inward. Wooden fragments flew through the air as bullets tore into the walls. About six armed men in black suits invaded the house with practiced precision. Their shoes thudded against the floor, and the silenced submachine guns in their hands were at the ready. Black masks covered their faces, revealing only their eyes—eyes that resembled those of predators stalking their prey.

  "Block the stairwell! Clear the second floor!" one of the enemies shouted. His voice echoed throughout the house.

  The man in the black coat quickly pulled Alister behind a wall, leaning close to whisper in his ear. His warm breath brushed against Alister's skin. "Arthur... head for the back door and run straight into the darkness. Don't look back, no matter what. I'll be right behind you. Now... go!"

  Taking a deep breath, Alister bolted through the kitchen's back door into the snow-covered woods outside. Snow seeped into his shoes, its coldness biting at his feet. The trees in the woods stood dark and menacing, their leaves rustling with each gust of wind. His own breathing sounded deafeningly loud in his ears, and his heartbeat pounded like a drum. The coffee had reawakened his blood, making his steps quicker.

  Simultaneously, gunfire crackled inside the house. Bullets pierced the walls, sending wood splinters flying. Using the stair railing for cover, the man in the black coat returned fire with his black pistol. His shooting was terrifyingly accurate. His first bullet struck an enemy square in the forehead, sending the body tumbling down the stairs. His second shot hit another in the throat, blood spurting out. Blood streamed down the stairs, creating a small red river on the white snow.

  "Damn it! Take out the man in the coat first! He's not ordinary!" the enemy leader shouted furiously, unleashing a continuous barrage from his submachine gun. Bullets whizzed through the air, punching holes in the walls.

  Moving as if gliding through the air, the man in the black coat dodged the line of fire and retreated toward the back door. His coat billowed behind him, each movement casting a fleeting shadow in the darkness. Reaching the kitchen, he fired at the gas canister.

  "Boom!"

  The massive explosion shook the entire house, flames roaring into the air. The fire consumed several enemies, their screams mingling with the stench of burning clothes. The blast wave scattered the snow, and the man in the black coat landed gracefully on the snow-covered ground. His footsteps sank into the snow as he followed the path Alister had taken.

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  "Arthur! Head for the main road!" he shouted from behind. His voice echoed through the woods.

  Breathing heavily, Alister emerged from the woods onto the deserted highway. A thin layer of snow covered the road, and streetlights glowed in the distance. At that moment, two headlights from behind pierced the darkness. An enemy car was speeding toward them. The headlights reflected off the snow, blindingly bright.

  "They're coming!" Alister cried out in terror. His voice dissipated in the air, echoing in his own ears.

  The man in the black coat stopped in the middle of the road, aiming his pistol at the oncoming car. Enemies inside the car fired continuously through the open window with their submachine gun. Bullets kicked up snow around him, sending plumes of white dust to his left and right. Yet he stood his ground, unmoving.

  "Bang!"

  His single bullet struck the front tire of the speeding car dead-on. The vehicle swerved violently, crashing into a tree by the roadside and coming to a halt. The tree splintered against the car's front, smoke billowing from the wreckage.

  Just then, fortunately, a passenger bus heading toward the city arrived. Its headlights reflected off the snow, and the driver slammed on the brakes in fright. The man in the black coat pulled Alister and flagged down the bus in the middle of the road.

  "Get on!"

  They both quickly scrambled onto the bus. The air inside was warm, and the passengers were asleep. One rested his head against the window; another slept with his mouth open. Alister slumped into the last seat, pressing a hand to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. His hands trembled, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  "Did we make it?" he whispered.

  The man in the black coat looked back through the window. In the distance, the burning old house painted the sky red. Smoke spread through the air, and police lights flashed chaotically on the road in the distance. "Temporarily, Arthur… just temporarily. But your journey has truly just begun."

  The bus rumbled heavily from the outskirts into the heart of Geneva. Raindrops streaked down the windows, and outside, the red and blue lights of police cars flashed chaotically on the road. The city center buildings blazed with colorful lights, but for Alister, those lights only intensified his sense of danger. He leaned back in his seat, trying to breathe steadily, but waves of anxiety still churned in his chest.

  "Why are we driving into the city? Shouldn't we be heading out of town?" he whispered.

  The man in the black coat didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead through the windshield. Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes, and the bus shuddered to a halt. When Alister looked outside, his blood ran cold.

  The bus had stopped in front of Geneva's main police headquarters. The massive building blazed with lights, and police cars were lined up in front. Red and blue warning lights flashed chaotically on the road through the snowflakes, tension blanketing the entire area like a battlefield. Armed police officers stood guard, some surrounding the bus.

  All five passengers who had appeared to be asleep on the bus stood up simultaneously.

  "Trap! It's a trap!"

  The sounds of guns being cocked filled the bus. Every passenger now held a Glock-17 pistol, all aimed at Alister and the man in the black coat. The driver also turned from his seat, a gun in his hand. A cold smile played on his lips.

  "Hands on your heads! Move and you're dead!" one passenger barked.

  Alister looked at the man in the black coat beside him. Fear and hope mingled in his eyes. "What… what do we do? You have powers, don't you? Do something!"

  The man in the black coat slowly raised his hands, his voice calm as he replied. "In this situation, there's nothing I can do, Arthur. We have to see how things play out. At this close range, the moment we move, your body will be riddled with bullets. Don't try to run… you'll just get yourself killed."

  As the bus door opened, several armed police officers swarmed them, dragging them off the bus. Their knees hit the snow, the cold searing through their bodies. This wasn't a fake police station; it was the real Geneva police headquarters. Inside the station, the entire place buzzed with activity—busy officers, the rustle of documents, ringing phones, and general noise. But the moment they saw Alister and his companion, the whole station fell silent, everyone staring with probing eyes. Some officers held files, whispering among themselves.

  They were led down a long corridor and shoved into a small room. The light inside was pale, and the walls were stained. Waiting in that room were not only uniformed police officers but also some strangers in Western suits. Alister noticed the badges pinned to their chests identified them as FBI agents. Their faces were a mixture of coldness and triumph.

  The man who appeared to be the leader of the FBI agents stared intently at Alister. His face was as hard as stone, and he held a file containing Alister's photograph. He walked slowly forward and, with a bitter smile, spoke in a voice that seemed to shake the entire room.

  "Well, well… you elusive little con artist…"

  The words echoed in Alister's ears, and he felt as if his entire world had just been shaken. Everyone in the room fixed their eyes on him, and the future ahead had become utterly unpredictable.