Hit the Bad Luck Away

Afterward, Su Cheng inspected Lin's black mark. It had not darkened, but it had crept half a centimeter toward his collarbone. “I only intervened,” Lin said. “I exchanged nothing.” “Using the ability has a price.” Su displayed his neural scan. At the instant of intervention, four tangled waveforms had briefly separated. “Pain, fatigue, focus, and luck are not solid chips. They have components. You may be able to take only part of one. You took all of Zhou's pain because whole trades were all you knew.” Lin remembered forty-seven minutes of hell. “So I can learn not to empty someone out.” “If you live long enough to learn.” His phone lit up. Gu had sent a photograph of the rehabilitation center twelve years earlier.