Advent Of The True Villain

While Lin Feng executed his shift, the minutes passed slowly, methodically completing each task required of him. The pale buzz of the fluorescent lights above illuminated the scuffed tile floor with a dim glow. The cash register chimed from time to time as a few late-night customers drifted in, faces either tired from work or tired from the indulgence of nightlife.

Lin Feng greeted them with the bare minimum of politeness, scanning items with an almost mechanical efficiency. Stocking shelves, wiping down counters, taking inventory—his movements were precise, practiced. He didn't need to think about it, which gave him ample time to plan.

Meanwhile, Wang Qiang and Li Mei had disappeared into the storeroom, giggling and whispering among themselves. Lin Feng had long since stopped wondering what they were doing in there. He already knew—drinking, taking small doses of whatever substances they managed to smuggle in, indulging in whatever hedonistic distractions they craved. The store's management was too indifferent to care, as long as no one caused a scene and the place still ran.

Taking advantage of their absence, Lin Feng casually retrieved the goods he had pocketed earlier. With practiced movements, he placed them in a secure hiding spot—tucked away behind the broken shelving in the back of the store, where no one ever checked. A stash that would remain undisturbed until the time was right. Small thefts, accumulating steadily, and each loss would be pinned directly onto Wang Qiang and Li Mei.

An hour before his shift ended, the two finally emerged, the smell of cheap alcohol clinging to their clothes. Wang Qiang stretched lazily, his usual smug grin present, while Li Mei leaned against him, her expression flushed and unfocused.

"Since you were late," Wang Qiang drawled, tossing a casual arm over Li Mei's shoulder, "we figured you should pay for the drinks tonight. Fair, right?"

Li Mei pursed her lips and snickered. "You definitely owe us! We stood in for you all night today! Who told you to be late?"

Lin Feng retained his neutral expression. He bowed hi head slightly, voice low. "I know. My bad. I'll pay again."

Inside, he smirked coldly. Drink all you want. Waste my money. Enjoy yourselves while you can. Soon, I will take everything you have.

Wang Qiang let out a lazy yawn, stretching as if the mere act of standing was too much effort. With a smirk, he reached into the register and pulled out a few bills, waving them carelessly. "I'll just take the beer from your pay today," he said, stuffing the money into his pocket before draping an arm over Li Mei. "Come on, let's finish up in the storeroom."

Li Mei giggled, pressing herself against him. "You're so bad," she teased, though she made no move to stop him as they sauntered off, disappearing behind the storeroom door once again. The faint sound of muffled laughter and the clinking of bottles followed, confirming their indulgence.

Lin Feng stood motionless momentarily, his dark eyes fixed on the closed door. Then, in a voice just, barely above a whisper he muttered, "I'll see how long you can act so arrogant in front of me."

With them gone, he resumed tending to the store as before, methodically checking shelves and attending to the occasional late-night customer. The rhythmic beeping of the scanner was the only sound in the quiet space, and he moved with a patience that bordered on eerie. Every action was deliberate, controlled—because while he played the part of the obedient worker, his mind was always scheming.

At the refrigerated section, his gaze settled on the neatly packed selection of meats. His fingers grazed over the cheaper cuts before settling on the premium selection—the kind of meat even Wang Qiang, despite all his boasting, never dared to buy for himself except on occasion.

Swiftly, without hesitation, he tucked it away into his bag, hidden beneath the cloth he used to wipe down counters. A small luxury, one he would enjoy at their expense.

The hours dragged on, each minute bringing him closer to the end of his shift. He remained composed, his actions methodical, even as the anticipation of what was to come simmered beneath his calm exterior. Soon, the sky would begin to lighten, and he would walk away from this place—for now.

Finally, the clock struck five.

Lin Feng exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as if exhausted from the long night. He approached the register, checking the remaining amount left from his pay after Wang Qiang had taken his share. It was meager, barely enough to get by, but Lin Feng was never one to rely on scraps alone.

Without hesitation, he moved to the back of the store, retrieving his carefully stashed goods. Every item was still in place, untouched. Securing them in his bag, he slipped out of the store with quiet precision, blending into the dimly lit streets as the first hints of dawn crept over the horizon.

The air outside was cold, biting against his skin as he pulled his thin jacket closer. The streets were nearly empty, save for a few early workers trudging toward their morning shifts and the occasional drunk stumbling home. The distant hum of cars and neon signs flickering off for the day made the city feel alive in its own way, even at this hour.

Two blocks away from the store, Lin Feng made a turn into a smaller alleyway, stopping next to an old dumpster. From this hiding place, he pulled out a second bag—a larger and sturdier backpack he had hidden there earlier. He worked quickly, shifting the protein powder and other stolen items from his bag to the more durable one. This meant a better and more secure transfer, with less chance of raising suspicion in case someone stopped him. Once everything was transferred, he slung the heavier backpack over his shoulder and resumed walking like nothing had happened.

Lin Feng walked with deliberate steps, his mind was already forward-thinking. He had taken enough supplies for the moment—some meat, a few other valuable goods, some cash. He had a plan, but part of that plan would be to wait. Collecting wealth in the shadows would be a slow process that required precision and patience. Rushing would lead to mistakes, guaranteed.

As he neared a familiar alleyway, he heard the muffled sounds of a conversation. Normally, he wouldn't pay attention, but something about the tone caught his ear.

"Did you hear? Mo Fan actually agreed to that duel with Mu Bai…"

Lin Feng's steps faltered slightly. He pressed himself against the cold brick wall, listening closely.

"What? When is it happening?"

"Two years from now. Also the winner will get the right to enter Holy Spring. Can you imagine? That Mo Fan's gonna get crushed."

Lin Feng's mind immediately pieced together the timeline. Two years? The duel between Mo Fan and Mu Bai… That meant the fall of Bo City was near.

His fingers tightened slightly around the strap of his bag. Two years. That's all the time I have.

He took a slow breath, steadying himself. Bo City—this place, with its filth, its corruption, its predators and prey—was doomed. He had read the novel, knew the events that would unfold. The invasion, the despair, the death. And he had no intention of being one of the countless corpses left behind when the dust settled.

I need to leave. But not yet.

Running blindly would only lead to ruin. He needed money, resources, power. Strength alone wouldn't be enough. A rat could escape a crumbling building, but a rat with wealth could ensure a new life waiting for it on the other side.

Lin Feng resumed his walk, thoughts racing. The first step was accumulating funds. The store was his primary source right now, but it wasn't enough. Wang Qiang and Li Mei were tools—disposable, ignorant, useful in their own way. Their greed and carelessness made them the perfect scapegoats. But he needed more.

Gambling dens? No, too risky without inside knowledge. Underground trades? Maybe. I need an in.

He considered the black market. The drug dealer the previous Lin Feng had dealt with… he might be useful. A pawn to exploit for information, or perhaps a source of funds if played correctly.

The thought lingered as he turned onto a quieter street, the rundown buildings casting long shadows in the dim morning light. He wasn't far from his place now—a small, barely furnished apartment that reeked of poverty. It was temporary. Everything in this city was temporary.

As he reached the entrance, Lin Feng paused, glancing around to make sure he wasn't followed. Old habits. The previous Lin Feng had been nothing but a rat scurrying to survive, and even now, that instinct served him well.

Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, locking it behind him before setting his bag down. The room was cold, lifeless. A single flickering bulb barely illuminated the peeling walls and stained floor. But Lin Feng didn't care. He wasn't here to be comfortable.

He unpacked his stolen goods, setting them aside carefully. The premium meat, still wrapped neatly, would last him for a while. Eating well would keep his body in prime condition, something he couldn't afford to neglect. Strength wasn't just about magic—it was about the body, the mind, the ability to endure.

Sitting on the edge of the worn-out mattress, Lin Feng let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling. Two years. That was all he had.

The fall of Bo City was inevitable. But he wouldn't be here when it happened.

He would rise before then. He would escape. And when the flames engulfed this city, he would be far away, watching from a place of power.

The clock had started ticking.