Chapter 487: Don’t You Dare Defame Bad People
Chapter 487: Don’t You Dare Defame Bad People
Fang Cheng and Ye Yuqing left the hotel and prepared to look for houses in the suburbs.
Though there were some scares but no real danger last night, if things escalated, the entire hotel could be affected.
Fang Cheng didn’t want to attract government attention and risk exposing his identity, so moving to the suburbs temporarily seemed wiser.
They called a taxi outside the hotel. Coincidentally, the driver was the same one who had driven them back the previous day.
The driver eyed them carefully, making sure they weren’t carrying that creepy doll.
Its eerie appearance had kept him awake all night.
“Don’t worry,”
Fang Cheng said, sensing the driver’s unease. “I’ve already thrown that doll away.”
Relieved, the driver let them into the car.
During the ride to the suburbs, the chatty driver shared amusing stories about life in San Francisco.
Supernatural powers in North America were in chaos.
Within the Human Rights Coalition, superpowered individuals were government-made, regulated, and acted uniformly.
In North America, however, their origins were far messier—
official agencies, grassroots groups, religious sects, private labs, and capitalists all bred their own.
Nearly every powerful figure secretly scrambled to cultivate their own forces.
This led to unchecked, reckless experiments, spawning hordes of bizarre ability users.
North America’s obsession with superhero culture and its “freedom”-masked selfishness bred natural hostility toward the government.
Their relationship hovered between rivalry and reluctant cooperation, explaining the Department of Homeland Security’s heavy reliance on external personnel.
Countless wild ability users roamed freely—some playing self-styled heroes, others wreaking havoc with zero regard for lives.
Outwardly, North America resembled the “Marvel” universe, but in truth, it was closer to “The Boys.”
The driver rambled about these so-called heroes patrolling San Francisco to “fight crime.”
Fang Cheng soon tuned out. Ye Yuqing, masked and silent, kept her aloof demeanor, though secretly fascinated.
In the Human Rights Coalition, you either joined the system or lived ordinary—no such “freedom” existed.
Here was a true heaven for superheroes and super criminals alike.
Fang Cheng glanced outside and noticed they’d reached a crossroads. The red light had just turned, leaving them boxed between vehicles.
A sudden screech of tires tore through the air. From the left, a speeding bus lurched wildly toward their taxi.
Passengers inside shrieked in terror as the out-of-control vehicle barreled closer.
“Holy shit!!”
The driver’s eyes widened as he let out a sharp scream. He instinctively tried to start the car and escape, but found himself trapped in the long line of traffic with no place to go.
The bus had smashed through the road’s central guardrail, charging toward them with death’s breath.
The driver opened his mouth in a desperate scream.
“Aaaaaah——”
His voice gradually weakened before cutting off abruptly.
Fang Cheng sat in the back seat, his arm extended through the window to press against the bus’s front.
The speeding bus came to an eerie stop less than half a meter from the taxi.
Watching Fang Cheng hold back the bus with one hand, the driver gripped his hair like he’d seen God himself.
“Oh my God!”
Not only the bus, but even the screaming passengers fell silent, exchanging bewildered glances.
The bus stood frozen unnaturally while passengers remained firmly seated by an invisible force, spared from injury by inertia.
This was Vector Control Lv4’s power – though weaker than Uehara Takashi’s abilities, more than enough to stop a runaway bus.
As the traffic light changed and roadside spectators gathered, Fang Cheng used Vector Control to disable the bus’s engine before withdrawing his arm. “Drive,” he told the driver.
The driver kept staring wide-eyed. “Are…are you a superhero?”
“I’m a super criminal. Start driving now or I’ll kick your head like a soccer ball.”
Fang Cheng’s half-smiling threat made the driver’s face pale instantly. The car sped away in haste.
Ye Yuqing spoke in Area 11 dialect: “The Grim Reaper’s threats seem stronger than last night’s.”
Fang Cheng nodded.
This out-of-control bus clearly showed the Grim Reaper’s influence.
Though easily resolved, it proved more dangerous than yesterday’s two death traps.
Just as Victor had warned on the phone, the Grim Reaper’s death traps would grow stronger over time.
Would it drag down a meteorite after seven days? Or trick governments into launching nuclear bombs?
En route, Fang Cheng’s phone buzzed with news.
After a full day’s work, Sato Mai had hacked into the Department of Homeland Security’s database, retrieving stacks of confidential documents.
Files about “The Coming Grim Reaper” and “Evil Spirit Doll” arrived directly on his phone.
As predicted, both were evolving evil spirit incidents.
“The Coming Grim Reaper” particularly stood out – no longer just an evil spirit case, but rated S by Homeland Security.
Though nations use different monster rating systems, Homeland Security’s S-rank exceeded Area 11’s hazard level A+.
“The Coming Grim Reaper” offered no solution except evasion, its source untraceable.
Documents detailed the Grim Reaper’s pattern: marked targets face two death traps daily.
Initially weak, these traps grow progressively deadlier.
Their power caps on the seventh day – survive that final day, and the Grim Reaper moves on.
The death trap’s power was ace-level. By the seventh day, it’d force someone to endure two full-power ace-level attacks.
No wonder the bald director and external personnel doubted Fang Cheng’s survival.
Only an ace could withstand another ace’s two full strikes—especially since the Grim Reaper’s attacks were eerily unpredictable.
After reading the documents, Fang Cheng relaxed. At least there’d be no meteorites or nuclear bombs.
His concern wasn’t for himself, but for Ye Yuqing.
Aces? He’d fought them before.
The documents stated the Grim Reaper created two death traps daily. Today’s second one was still pending.
The Evil Spirit Doll seemed simpler—it kept summoning evil spirits, but their strength stayed consistent, capped at five per summon.
Ye Yuqing could handle it alone without Fang Cheng’s help. Though the doll had been purified and burned, its return remained uncertain.
The driver stayed quiet during the ride, occasionally glancing at them through the rearview mirror.
His gaze resembled a starstruck fan’s.
Fang Cheng ignored him, staying vigilant for the Grim Reaper’s second strike.
Yet even after reaching the suburbs, no attack came. The day wasn’t over though—danger could emerge anytime.
When paying the fare, the driver refused.
“Superheroes are my idols! You saved my life—I can’t take your money!”
He didn’t realize the bus had targeted Fang Cheng.
Fang Cheng pocketed the cash, grinning. “Don’t insult villains. I’m a super criminal.”
The driver chuckled. “Alright, Mr. Super Criminal. Good luck.”
As they walked away, the driver’s shaky voice called: “Y-you forgot something!”
The doll they’d burned that morning sat on the backseat.
Its transformed clothes and hairstyle had reverted to their original dirty, creepy state.
Fang Cheng and Ye Yuqing exchanged startled looks.
This doll wasn’t ordinary—it regenerated despite purification.
“Want it as a gift?” Fang Cheng asked the driver.
The pale man shook his head. They’d boarded empty-handed. A doll appearing twice? Definitely not normal.
Fang Cheng retrieved the doll, joking aside. The driver sped off, vowing never to chauffeur them again.
Fang Cheng burned the doll with flames. Why carry it when it’d just reappear?
The suburban drop-off spot lacked urban decay—instead, garden-style apartments dotted the tree-lined streets.
North America’s wealthy mostly inhabited suburbs, while cities housed Black and Latino communities. Shared country, divided colors—racial segregation persisted.
Fang Cheng chose suburbs for their space and privacy. City incidents drew too much attention.
They met the landlord—a polished white guy renting a two-story apartment with pool and yard for $5,000 monthly, utilities excluded.
He was gouging the non-locals. Fang Cheng didn’t care—money meant nothing when your bank account showed endless nines.
This guy’s greed was premature. Would the apartment even survive seven days with Fang Cheng around?
Ye Yuqing liked the place, especially the neighboring church. Maybe holy ground could suppress the Grim Reaper and doll.
She noticed a black-cloaked, masked figure parking near the church, mere meters away.
As unease crept in, two priests exited the church, flanked by worshipers.