The Sickly Beauty Gives Up Struggling [Rebirth] Chapter 43

“Don’t kid me,” Tang He snorted. He didn’t believe it. Back in the day, he’d been a captain in the Ghost Eye Squad of the Ninth District. Though he’d left due to the high-pressure environment, his skills remained sharp. Few in the country could truly pose a threat to him.

Still, his curiosity was piqued. Anyone Cen Xiao described in such terms was either genuinely dangerous or had charmed him into oblivion.

When Cen Xiao reached the lobby, he found Li Rong seated on a sofa, his knees pressed neatly together as he sipped warm lemon water from a paper cup. The receptionist at her desk kept sneaking glances at him, clearly paying no attention to her work.

Watching Li Rong blow gently on his cup, his small, unintentional gestures sending the receptionist into quiet giggles, Cen Xiao instantly understood. Whatever Li Rong wanted to know, the receptionist had probably spilled it all.

Two things in the world were impossible to resist: money and beauty.

Cen Xiao walked over, tousling Li Rong’s damp hair and twirling a strand between his fingers. “Why are you so wet?”

Li Rong lowered the cup, his tone calm. “Wind’s too strong. The umbrella was useless.”

Cen Xiao fetched a clean towel, tore open its packaging, and draped it over Li Rong’s head. Slowly and methodically, he began drying the damp ends of his hair.

Li Rong didn’t shy away or protest. He sat comfortably, closing his eyes as if indulging in the service.

Tang He stood silently in a corner, arms crossed, watching the scene. He couldn’t help but feel that Cen Xiao was entirely bewitched.

Sure, Li Rong was good-looking, but he seemed frail, with a pale complexion and an air of fragility. He was clearly much younger than Cen Xiao and unlikely to have half his experience. Tang He dismissed him as nothing more than a decorative vase.

Yet, there was something about Li Rong’s composure—a calmness that defied his years. Even standing beside Cen Xiao, his presence was not overshadowed.

Li Rong tilted his head slightly, dodging the towel, and looked up at Cen Xiao. “Why isn’t the boss coming over? Should I stand up and greet him?”

It was clear he’d already noticed Tang He. A quick glance had been enough to identify him as the training center’s owner.

Cen Xiao, satisfied with his work, scrunched the towel in his hand and smoothed down the hair he had ruffled. “He’s observing you.”

Li Rong paused at the answer, then smiled faintly. “What could’ve happened to make him so interested in me?”

Cen Xiao replied with mock seriousness, “Your face.”

Li Rong raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Instead, he responded lightly, “Tch.”

Realizing he’d been spotted, Tang He stepped forward, extending a hand to Li Rong. “So, what do you think? Interested in training here to get stronger?”

Li Rong stood, offering a gentle handshake and a smile. “I’m not in good health right now, but definitely in the future.”

It was clear to him that Tang He had underestimated him, seeing only his frail appearance.

Li Rong didn’t mind. Being underestimated often provided the greatest advantage.

Cen Xiao’s gaze dropped to their clasped hands. Without a word, he pulled them apart. “Alright, let’s start training.”

Li Rong withdrew his hand without protest, his expression calm as he stood next to Cen Xiao.

Tang He rolled his eyes at Cen Xiao’s possessiveness. What was there to worry about? He was practically an old man, with no designs on some young kid.

On their way to the training room, Li Rong glanced at Tang He, then suddenly asked, “How many people are expected to take the Ninth District exam next year?”

The Ninth District’s entrance exam was notoriously variable in difficulty, with participant numbers fluctuating widely each year. Knowing the approximate numbers in advance could be crucial for strategy.

Tang He’s expression turned wary. After a moment, he replied curtly, “How would I know? I’m not a proctor.”

Li Rong shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his smile disarming. “Ah, I see. If it’s confidential, I won’t ask again.”

Tang He’s brow twitched.

Given the number of candidates who simulated the exam at his center each year, he could easily estimate the likely participant count. But for the sake of fairness, he would never reveal this to anyone—not even Cen Xiao.

Yet, hearing Li Rong’s soft, warm tone, he found it hard to give a cold, flat refusal.

He said, “Don’t worry, Cen Xiao will definitely pass.”

But he soon realized that Li Rong, the recipient of his reassurance, showed no noticeable emotional reaction—almost as if Li Rong had never been concerned about whether Cen Xiao would pass.

When they reached the training room, Tang He immediately shrugged off his coat and retrieved a custom-made handgun from the props cabinet.

The gun was loaded with rubber-tipped blank rounds. They would hurt when fired at someone but wouldn’t cause serious harm.

Tang He spun the gun twice in his hand, then stood boldly in the center of the training room, legs apart, and jerked his chin at Cen Xiao. “Come.”

Li Rong leaned against the window, propping his elbow on the small ledge, his gaze settling on Cen Xiao.

Gunplay?

The Ninth District was ostensibly an organization to curb unethical business practices and oversee the operations of the joint chambers of commerce. Yet, judging by its stringent requirements for members, the job seemed far more perilous than the authority it wielded.

Cen Xiao didn’t object. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a simple outfit of a shirt and jeans underneath.

But his physique was impressive, and even this casual attire couldn’t conceal the defined contours of his muscles.

Li Rong’s eyes lingered on the creases of Cen Xiao’s shirt as he licked his lips. Suddenly, he felt parched and thought he could use another cup of lemon water.

With Tang He holding a gun and Cen Xiao unarmed, the odds seemed stacked against him.

But Cen Xiao merely flexed his fingers a little before stepping up to Tang He.

Tang He, a seasoned veteran, knew better than to let Cen Xiao get too close. Distance would ensure the handgun maintained its advantage. He took a step back, ensuring Cen Xiao couldn’t grab the slide of the gun. Smiling, Tang He said, “I’ve never met a test-taker who could dodge a shot. You’d better hope you never run into an opponent like this once you join the Ninth District.”

Grabbing the slide would jam the gun—a critical move in disarming an opponent. As an experienced fighter, Tang He was determined not to fall into that trap. He pointed the gun squarely at Cen Xiao’s chest.

Li Rong’s eyelids fluttered slightly as his gaze shifted from Cen Xiao to Tang He’s hand.

In this scenario, dodging seemed impossible.

The training room fell into utter silence, so quiet that even the sound of breathing disappeared.

Surviving under the threat of a gun was not just a physical test but a psychological battle. In such an environment, even a fleeting glance could decide the outcome.

Although Li Rong knew it was just a training exercise with blank rounds, an inexplicable tension gripped him.

He began to wonder: what if one day Cen Xiao encountered a situation like this because of him? What then?

Tang He’s smile faded. His thumb cocked the hammer of the gun. With this single-action firearm, a slight pull of the trigger would fire a bullet instantly, leaving no time to react.

These were the standard-issue firearms of the Ninth District.

Tang He declared, “I’ll give you just five seconds. You can try sidestepping or ducking, but my aim will catch up quickly. You won’t stand a chance. Now… start!”

Before Tang He could finish speaking, Cen Xiao interrupted: “1,351 people. That’s the current number registered for the Ninth District’s basic assessment.”

Ordinary banter wouldn’t distract Tang He—his professional training had taught him the importance of focus during psychological battles. He had prepared himself to remain unaffected by external information before saying “start.”

This gave Tang He an edge in fairness over Cen Xiao, as not every armed opponent would have such mental readiness.

But Tang He had never anticipated that Cen Xiao would blurt out the exact number of examinees.

Tang He had used his training center’s big data and past models to estimate that next year’s participants would range from 1,300 to 1,400. Outside of those managing the Ninth District’s exams, his projection was the most accurate.

Yet Cen Xiao knew the exact number.

Li Rong’s casual question earlier had planted a subconscious seed of doubt in Tang He’s mind—one he hadn’t even noticed.

So when Cen Xiao unexpectedly revealed the figure, Tang He hesitated for a moment, unable to control his reaction.

The pause lasted longer than five seconds, and Cen Xiao didn’t miss the opportunity.

Li Rong had seen magicians perform before. He knew that with relentless practice, people could develop speed beyond what the human eye could perceive.

Just like when a magician makes a coin disappear right in front of you. You might know it’s hidden between their fingers, but in that instant, your eyes simply can’t track it.

Similarly, Li Rong’s eyes couldn’t track Cen Xiao’s movements. It happened in a flash. Before he realized it, Cen Xiao had already shifted his vital areas out of the gun’s line of fire.

In those few critical seconds, Cen Xiao closed the distance, grabbing the gun’s slide with one hand and striking Tang He’s wrist with the other to disarm him.

Tang He, despite his professional training, reacted quickly by pulling the trigger. The gun’s sharp recoil disrupted Cen Xiao’s rhythm with a jarring vibration, accompanied by a deafening sound that momentarily impaired his hearing.

This gave Tang He a chance to reload.

Although the gun jammed, the recoil caused Cen Xiao’s left hand to falter slightly.

But just as Tang He was about to raise his leg to strike Cen Xiao’s abdomen and shake the gun free, he froze mid-action.

Looking down, Tang He realized what Cen Xiao had done.

While his left hand had been stunned, Cen Xiao’s right hand hadn’t been aiming for his wrist bones.

At some point, a sharp metal piece had gone missing from Cen Xiao’s belt buckle.

Now, that jagged piece was concealed in his right hand, the blade’s edge pressed against the veins in Tang He’s wrist.

If Cen Xiao slashed down, severing the veins, Tang He would go into shock from blood loss within ten minutes.

Cen Xiao’s goal wasn’t just to disarm; it was to kill.

It was the same mindset as a battlefield with no distinction between right and wrong—where there was no need for information, secrets, or hostages. The sole purpose was to eliminate the opponent.

Despite living in modern society, this lethal instinct made Tang He shudder.

He wondered if Cen Xiao and that “little beauty” had planned this in advance—planting the question to distract him and lay the groundwork for this chilling demonstration.

If not—if Cen Xiao’s response was just an improvisation based on the circumstances—it was all the more terrifying.

Li Rong, like Tang He, was stunned by that precise number.

He hesitated even longer before a few words finally emerged in his mind.

Blue Pivot District One, Jian Fu.

Perhaps because Jian Fu’s usual carefree demeanor had left a deep impression, Li Rong had almost forgotten that Jian Fu was a prodigy in mental arithmetic, specially recruited by District One. Passing through layers of reviews and examinations wasn’t something mere privilege could achieve.

District One oversaw the internet and big data; how could they fail to access the number of examinees registered in District Nine?

Each district specialized in different fields. While District Nine had a fearsome reputation, it was not exempt from surveillance by other districts.

So, when Yang Fenfang had asked last time and Cen Xiao mentioned that Jian Fu was studying cryptography, was it really just something he made up on the spot?

Sometimes, the truth that sounds most like a lie is the easiest to overlook.

Tang He wasn’t obligated to report this to District Nine. After all, Cen Xiao could easily claim he was just speaking off the cuff—if he was right, it was a coincidence; if wrong, it was just a joke.

Yet in his heart, Tang He believed Cen Xiao wasn’t lying.

Tang He smiled, relaxed his grip, and let the gun dangle on his index finger, signaling his acknowledgment of Cen Xiao’s success.

He teased lightheartedly, “Well, well, hiding your talents. I really underestimated you.”

Cen Xiao took the opportunity to pack up the metal accessory. Pressing it against his belt buckle, it fit seamlessly, looking no different from an ordinary belt.

Adjusting his belt and tucking in the half-loosened edge of his shirt, Cen Xiao took Tang He’s gun and removed the magazine. “Don’t take it too hard. You’re not the first person who couldn’t dodge.”

Li Rong’s mind stirred.

Not the first?

Had Cen Xiao encountered similar situations more than once?

Tang He sighed lazily, “Ah, getting old. My reflexes can’t compare to you young folks.” He lamented, but after scrutinizing Cen Xiao again, he couldn’t resist asking, “That other person before… were they better than me?”

Cen Xiao lowered his head, fiddled with the rubber bullet in his hand, and remained silent for a moment. Finally, he curled his lips into a faint smile, his eyes sharp. “Not telling you.”

Li Rong raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced at Cen Xiao’s unconsciously tightened fingers. A thought flashed through his mind.

That person was indeed better than Tang He.

Feeling rebuffed again, Tang He’s pride was bruised. He impulsively blurted, pretending to be mysterious, “Don’t be too cocky. I’ve recently encountered a very impressive candidate.”