American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

Chapter 690 The trouble has only just begun!

When the last sentence came out, Carmela fell silent.

She looked up at her brother, her anger suppressed by something deeper and heavier, like pain and regret.

“You’re not a piece of trash in front of me,” she said softly.

Matteo turned his face away, refusing to look at her.

Lynn stood to the side, observing the expressions and reactions of the siblings. He knew that now was not the best time to lay everything out on the table. Matteo had just returned home, and his condition was flaring up again, making him extremely wary. Any overly direct questioning might cause him to jump out the window and run away on the spot.

"Try to calm yourself down first," Lynn said.

Matteo sneered, "Starting to order me around again?"

“It’s not an order, it’s a suggestion.” Lynn looked at him. “You need to decide at least one thing now—whether to continue keeping your sister in the dark and then completely lose control next time, or to sit down and explain what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Why should I believe you?

“You don’t have to believe me right now,” Lynn said. “You just need to believe one thing first—your sister is even less willing to see you fail than you are to do so.”

After those words were spoken, no one spoke in the living room for a long time.

The music downstairs had stopped sometime ago. The TV across the hall was playing commercials, and a woman's laughter drifted in through the wall. The ice pack was getting damp, and water droplets dripped from the edge of the towel onto the floor.

Matteo stared at the drop of water for a long time, until his shoulders finally relaxed from their extreme tension. The transparent crystal was still there, but it no longer continued to grow wildly. He seemed to have been drained of all his strength by this unexpected encounter, the questioning, and the outburst; his voice was low and hoarse.

“I didn’t expect to come back and run into you,” he said.

"Then why did you come back?" Carmela asked.

Matteo was silent for a moment before saying, "Get some things. And... see if you're still here."

“I’ve always been here.” Carmela stared at him.

Matteo didn't reply; his Adam's apple bobbed as if he were swallowing back what he was about to say.

Lynn looked at him and spoke in a calm, almost aloof tone: "What's in that bag you brought back?"

Matteo's expression immediately changed, and he subconsciously turned to look at the plastic bag on the coffee table.

Carmela looked over as well.

The bag was a typical white plastic bag from a convenience store, with faded blue lettering printed on the outside. After Matteo slammed it onto the coffee table, the opening was askew and open, and it seemed to contain a few odds and ends. The air suddenly felt tense again.

"Don't touch it," Matteo said immediately.

Lynn had already walked towards the coffee table.

"I told you not to touch it!" Matteo jumped up abruptly, his movement so sudden that the ice pack fell to the ground. Carmela gasped and rushed to help him up. Lynn, however, had already stopped by the coffee table. He didn't reach out, but instead glanced down at the half-exposed contents of the bag—a rectangular metal box, a roll of medical tape, a box of fever reducers, and a small object wrapped in a black cloth.

"You brought these back because you're leaving, or are you going to stay?" Lynn asked.

Matteo stood there, his breathing still heavy, his eyes fixed on the bag, as if it contained something even more shameful than his recent outburst. He didn't answer.

Carmela looked at him, then at Lynn, her voice strained: "Matto, what's inside?"

The young man's lips moved, but he only managed to squeeze out, "It's none of his business."

Lynn looked up at him, her gaze gradually turning cold, but not in a coercive way; rather, it was more like a decision made after a judgment had been made.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “From the moment you brought it through that door, it became more than just your business.”

Matteo stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes a mixture of struggle, annoyance, and a growing unease. He glanced at Carmela, then at Lynn, as if weighing whether to snatch the bag and flee, or gamble that they wouldn't notice anything.

Lynn looked at him and realized one thing—

This young man is not completely broken.

Because it wasn't completely broken, it was precisely because of this that, dragging along a body full of almost out-of-control mutations and things of unknown origin, it inexplicably returned to this small apartment that still retained its sister's scent and old photos as darkness approached.

But precisely because of this, the real trouble has only just begun.

Matteo stood there, his chest heaving. The transparent crystals on the back of his right hand hadn't completely faded; they lay scattered on his skin like a thin layer of ice that had been pressed back in. The plastic bag on the coffee table was half-open, and the object inside, wrapped in black cloth, was like a hard core huddled in the shadows, eerily quiet.

Carmela's gaze darted back and forth between her brother and the bag, her face growing paler with each passing moment.

“Matteo,” she whispered, as if afraid of further provoking him, “at least tell me first that there’s no explosives in there, right?”

“I’m not that stupid,” Matteo said through gritted teeth.

Lynn stood on the other side of the coffee table, not reaching out to touch the bag, but simply looking at Matteo: "Then you can open it yourself."

"You think I'll listen to you?" Matteo sneered, but his eyes weren't as hard as before; instead, they held a hint of frustration from being cornered. "You went into someone else's house and rummaged through their things, and now you want to boss me around?"

“I don’t want to boss you around,” Lynn said calmly. “I just want to know if what you brought back will keep your sister from sleeping here tonight.”

"you--"

Just as Matteo began to speak, a very faint, very short cracking sound came from outside the window.

It wasn't the dull thud of a child playing football downstairs hitting the iron railing, nor the crushed gunfire sound from the TV across the hall, but a real, sharp, high-speed sound of wind cutting in from afar.

Lynn's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Get down!"

He practically yelled it out.

At the same second, the glass pane by the living room window shattered with a deafening roar, shards flying into the room as if cleaved by an invisible fist. The window frame rattled violently, and the glass bowl on the coffee table was sent flying by the shockwave, shattering into sharp fragments against the wall.

Before Carmela could react, Lynn grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her back against the sofa. Matteo instinctively dodged to the side, crashing into a chair next to the dining table, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a piercing screech.

The second shot came almost immediately after.

"boom--!"

This time, instead of shattering the window, the bullet precisely penetrated the back wall of the living room, instantly sending a cloud of grayish-white dust flying. A corner of the family photo hanging there was blown off, and the glass frame cracked with a spiderweb-like pattern. The bullet, still hot from the impact after piercing the wall, sent plaster and wood flying everywhere.

Carmela gasped, her ears ringing from the shock: "What was that—"

“Snipe.” Lynn pressed down on her back, making her lie completely down. “Don’t look up!” Matteo cursed, his face drained of all color. “They’ve found this place.”

"Who?" Lynn asked without turning his head.

Matteo pursed his lips, and for the first time, a genuine panic flashed in his eyes.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Lynn quickly glanced up, his eyes sweeping briefly across the edge of the sofa towards the window. The edge of the rooftop across the street, the parking lot diagonally opposite, and the abandoned fire escape platform further away—three potential vantage points—were all possible, but the gunfire was being deflected by the buildings, making it impossible to pinpoint their location immediately. He whispered, “Carmela, is there a back door?”

"There's a fire escape staircase behind the kitchen, but—"

Before she could finish speaking, very light footsteps suddenly came from outside the stairwell.

It wasn't the sound of a neighbor's slippers, but rather hurried, rhythmic footsteps, spoken in hushed tones. There was at least more than one person. Someone had already come up the stairs and was standing outside her door.

Lynn's face immediately turned cold.

“It wasn’t just a simple sniping,” he said. “There were backups outside.”

Carmela was stunned: "What?"

“They’re not here to kill us,” Lynn said in a low voice, his tone sharp as a knife. “At least not just that. They’re blocking the exits.”

Matteo's shoulders tensed sharply: "I knew it... I knew they wouldn't let me take anything with me."

"What did you bring?" Lynn finally turned her head and stared at him.

Matteo gritted his teeth, his chest heaving: "What's the harm in talking about this now—"

“If we make this decision now, how are we going to get out of here alive?” Lynn interrupted him. “If you waste another second, I’ll assume this bag contains something that could blow the whole building up.”

Carmela turned sharply to her brother, her face deathly pale: "Mathew!"

A very faint metallic clang came from outside the door.

Someone is testing the doorknob.

The old door lock clicked loudly, paused for a moment, then continued. Clearly, the other party had no intention of knocking politely.

Matteo finally swore, lunged at the coffee table, grabbed the white plastic bag, and the contents wrapped in black cloth inside made a heavy thud. He gritted his teeth and said, "It's not explosives. It's a sample. And a key card."

"What sample?"

“The purified crystallization mother liquor tablets,” Matteo said, his voice hoarse. “And the access card for one of their temporary locations. I… I originally intended to use them to negotiate with them.”

Lynn looked at him: "You want to run away?"

“Nonsense,” Matteo growled back. “I don’t want to deliver anything for them anymore. They say it’s just errands, but things are getting dirtier and dirtier. People are going missing, people are being used for ‘fitting,’ and I’m not blind!”

A faint "click" sound suddenly came from the outside of the door lock, as if some tool had been inserted into the lock cylinder.

Lynn immediately stood up, his movements so decisive they were almost brutal: "Back door."

"What?" Carmela was still squatting by the sofa.

“Now,” Lynn pulled her up, “kitchen, fire escape, downstairs. Don’t go through the front door, don’t go near the windows.”

Matteo, carrying the bag, instinctively reached for something else. Lynn immediately saw where he was going and said coldly, "Don't go back to your room."

"There it is—"

"Your life is more important."

The sound of tools turning in the lock outside became clearer. Carmela didn't have time to ask any more questions. She steadied herself by holding onto the dining table and immediately ran to the kitchen. Matteo cursed and followed with a bag. Lynn lagged behind, grabbed a heavy cast-iron frying pan from the kitchen counter, and shoved it into Carmela's hands.

“No one can get in until the lock is opened,” he said. “If it does open, just take a picture of my face.”

Carmela caught the pot, her expression blank for a moment: "Do you usually hand out weapons like this?"

"As long as it works."

The kitchen was much narrower than the living room, crammed full of the refrigerator, stove, and small sideboard. The back door was a small iron door leading to the fire escape; the bolt was a bit rusty, and Carmela couldn't open it, her hands trembling with anxiety. Matteo rushed over, shoved her aside, and shoved his shoulder against her, slamming the door open with a bang, letting in a gust of dirty, cold evening air from the back of the city.

The narrow back alley downstairs resembled a dark crack, with trash cans, damp walls, and flashing advertising lights in the distance all pieced together. The iron frame of the fire escape was rusted black, and it made a slight creaking sound when stepped on.

The very next second they reached the stairwell, a muffled thud came from the apartment's main entrance, as if the lock had finally been snapped open by something. Someone had broken in.

"Behind them!" A rough, unfamiliar male voice came from the living room, echoing through his earpiece. "They went to the back!"

Lynn whirled around, slammed the kitchen door shut, and grabbed a mop handle, wedging it between the doorknob and the wall. A loud crash echoed from inside, and the wooden door and frame shook violently.

"Get down!" Lynn hissed.

The three of them rushed up the fire escape. Carmela wasn't wearing sneakers, and her heels slipped twice on the iron steps as she went down. Lynn grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the side. Matteo was the fastest, his movements so practiced it was as if he'd jumped up and down those stairs countless times, carrying his bag down almost two or three steps at a time.

The alley downstairs wasn't safe. The alleyway led east to the main street, while to the west was an abandoned laundromat behind another row of buildings. As soon as Lynn landed, he caught the faint metallic sound of an engine shutting off in the distance. He looked up and saw a gray van parked outside the alleyway, its door just a crack open.

"This way!" Instead of rushing towards the main street, he pushed Carmela and Matteo towards the west.

"Do you know the way?" Carmela asked, panting.

“I don’t know,” Lynn said, “but they probably know the main road.”

Matteo led the way, turning into another, even narrower alleyway. The walls on either side were so high they almost pressed the sky down, their bricks covered in peeling graffiti and black stains from water seepage. Beside a back door lay piles of tattered cardboard boxes and rotting vegetable leaves, making it terribly slippery underfoot. The three men's footsteps echoed rapidly in the cramped space, quickly followed by heavier, more organized footsteps.

"How many of them are there?" Lynn asked as he ran.

"I don't know!" Matteo yelled back. "At least three people came up, and there should be others watching the car outside!"

"Was the sniper one of their people?"

"It's not always the same group, but it's definitely the same one!"

A loud bang came from behind; a bullet struck the concrete wall on the right side of the alley, sending sparks and debris flying. It wasn't a sniper rifle anymore; it looked more like a short rifle or a modified carbine. The pursuers had entered the alley.

Carmela nearly collapsed from fright at the shout, but Lynn grabbed her shoulder and pulled her forward forcefully: "Don't turn around!"

The alleyway suddenly forked, one side leading to a small courtyard piled high with old wooden pallets, the other veering diagonally into a darker gap between residential buildings. Matteo didn't hesitate, turning directly into the dark gap. (End of Chapter)