Borrowed Talent at Number One

“Lin Zhou, the dead belong in museums.” She saved a screenshot. Whoever controlled the account knew her identity. Then someone pounded on her apartment door. Lin Zhou killed the monitor, picked up a metal tumbler, and approached the peephole. A short-haired girl in an Obsidian academy jacket stood outside. Rain ran down her bloodless face. She clutched an old laptop to her chest. Lin Zhou knew her. Xu Cheng. Ten years from now, analysts would call her the most accurate sniper Worlds had never seen. She would die in a fall on her eighteenth birthday without ever reaching the professional stage. But right now, she was alive. “Daybreak,” the girl said through the door, her voice shaking. “I know you’re ZERO.”