Chapter Three: A Ticket Delivered by Assassins

Zhou Jibai moved Wanxing's wound seventy-two hours into the future. She watched him pull the black spike from her shoulder. The wound did not heal; it vanished as though erased. At the same moment, a thin red line appeared beneath his collarbone. “Damage deferral,” he explained. “My deviation. In three days, the injury returns exactly as it was.” “What happens then?” “I take sick leave.” The probability hunter was trapped by the ledger's threads, but did not die. His body dissolved into black moths that poured through the windows. Before leaving, they formed a sentence: SURRENDER THE HEIR BEFORE MIDNIGHT, OR EVERY HUNTER IN LINCHUAN WILL SCENT HER. Obsidian's reinforcements did not come.