Shadows in the Office
The Humble Organization’s headquarters office was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a desk lamp.
Michael sat with Raymond, Brian, and Colin, talking over the latest news—breakthroughs in biology, and the sudden return of Karl.
Michael smirked.
“This Karl guy… he seems pretty strong. I don’t know exactly what he can do, but I’ve got a feeling he’s gonna be one of the brightest new stars in the kung fu world.”
Colin nodded.
“I think so too. The man’s smart—really smart. As for his actual strength, I can’t say. But he’s got something even more dangerous—money. In this world, money means resources, and resources mean a whole army of skilled people. He’s not someone you can just ignore.”
Brian leaned forward with a grin.
“Want me to go test him? See what he’s really made of? I could use my Golden Eyes.”
Colin shook his head.
“Test him? No. I don’t want the Humble Organization getting into it with DeepSock over nothing. He’s backed by big money, and you don’t take that lightly. As for his strength… if he’s really that good, we’ll find out soon enough.”
Raymond nodded.
“Yeah. Gold always shines in the end. We just have to be patient.”
Brian chuckled, and Michael’s mouth curled into a faint grin.
Wings in the Alley
In a dark, narrow alley, a few gangsters had a skinny, strange-looking young man surrounded, pounding him with fists and boots.
One of them pointed at his back and laughed.
“Ha! First time I’ve seen a guy with wings—and he still can’t fly!”
The man’s shirt had been ripped to shreds, leaving his upper body almost bare.
Under the dim streetlight, two tiny wings stuck out from his back—no bigger than chicken wings, thin and leathery like a bat’s. They trembled weakly, far too small to ever lift him off the ground.
Between blows, the young man said calmly, “I was born with these. Had ’em since the day I was born. Don’t even know what they’re for.”
One of the gangsters burst out laughing.
“What—your mom slept with a bat and had you?”
It was a nasty, completely random insult.
The young man smiled faintly. “Don’t insult my mom. Probably just some kind of genetic mutation or something.”
Before they could hit him again, four men in sunglasses stepped out of the shadows.
Without a word, each one grabbed a gangster and hammered them with straight punches and hooks, finishing with a single kick that sent them flying.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized—same punches, same kicks, same height, same precision. It was like watching four copies of the same fighter.
From behind them, a thin, average-height man stepped forward at a slow, deliberate pace.
It was Karl.
He raised his voice.
“Take this strange one back to the lab.”
Gene Transfer
After several days of research, they succeeded in transferring the strange man’s genes into Karl’s body.
When Karl stepped out of the lab, two massive bat-like wings stretched from his back—not tiny, chicken-sized ones like the man’s, but full three-meter spans of dark, leathery muscle.
Karl looked over his shoulder at them, a faint smile on his lips.
“I can do more than just take his genes,” he said. “I can amplify the strengths hidden in them, strip away the weaknesses… That’s the power of my gene-editing ability.”
His men clapped their hands.
“Boss, with wings like that, you might be the strongest man in the world.”
Karl knew it was just flattery.
He bent his knees, leapt into the air, and circled twice before landing back on the ground.
“Cut the flattery,” he said. “From now on, I want more people like him. I’m going to fuse even stronger genes into my body. I’m not the strongest yet. I’m not even that strong right now. Send more men out there to find people like this.”
He looked toward the horizon.
“The hunt has begun.”
City Sweep
From that day on, the city filled with men in suits and sunglasses—identical in height, build, and expression.
They moved through streets and alleys with mechanical precision, pulling people off the sidewalks and loading them into black cars bound for the lab.
Of course, many of those they grabbed only looked unusual. Their genetic makeup turned out to be perfectly normal.
One of them was Norman—but he wasn’t dragged in. He went willingly.
Norman was known in whispers as Dogman. He could sprint 150 kilometers, running on all fours like a dog, and had a “death roll” attack just like a crocodile.
At first glance, his genes seemed to contain traces of various animals—dog among them. But after testing, the truth came out: Norman’s dog-like traits came from living in the wild for a time. They were learned behaviors, not written in his DNA.
Which meant, for Karl, Norman’s genes were worthless.
Norman shook his head as he walked out of the lab. Eason and Dave fell in step beside him.
“So?” Eason asked. “Did they use your genes? Did they pay you?”
Norman sighed.
“Nope. They said what I’ve got isn’t some genetic gift—just skills I picked up through training. So I’m not getting a single cent. Damn it.”
Dave chuckled.
“Hey, man, you’ve never needed money to eat anyway. You’re always pulling that dash-and-dine thing. Money doesn’t seem to mean much to you.”
Norman cracked a small smile.
“True. I don’t really spend money anyway.”
The three of them strolled off and ended up at a bubble tea shop, sipping milk tea like nothing had happened.
Red Scooter
On a busy street, a familiar figure appeared—Frank—riding a red scooter at a slow, lazy pace, his round belly stretching the fabric of his white shirt. Across the shirt, in bold black letters, was the word: FUCKLIN.
One hand rested on the handlebar while the other casually picked at his nose as he cruised along, delivering food.
Legend had it there was a man with the highest defense in the world—someone who’d once taken a direct hit from an atomic bomb and walked away without a scratch.
The men in black suits and sunglasses quickly surrounded Frank. One of them kicked at his scooter, forcing it to a sudden stop.
Frank looked up at them, unfazed.
“Hey, you guys trying to rob me? ’Cause I’ve only got twenty bucks on me.”
One of the bodyguards said, “Our boss wants to run some experiments on you. He thinks you’d make an excellent test subject.”
Frank frowned.
“Experiments? On me? You’ve gotta be kidding. No way.”
He twisted the throttle and tried to drive forward, but the bodyguards blocked his path.
Frank sighed.
“Come on, guys, could you just move? I’ve got a customer waiting on their food. If I don’t deliver it, they might starve to death.”
Just then, from among the crowd, a familiar figure stepped forward—two massive wings unfurled behind him.
It was Karl.
He gave Frank a faint smile.
“Please,” Karl said. “We need you.”
The Price of Progress
Frank looked Karl straight in the eye.
“No, sir. By the way… why do you have two wings?”
Karl’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“These wings are the result of my experiments. I need you to help us finish the next one. We want to understand exactly how your so-called invincible defense works.”
Frank’s mouth started to open again—Karl could tell another refusal was coming.
“Hold on,” Karl said. “If our research succeeds, I can give you a reward—millions, maybe even tens of millions.”
Frank straightened up.
“Yes. For the scientific progress of humanity, I’m willing to help you with this experiment.”
Karl smirked to himself.
There’s nothing money can’t buy.
And so, Frank followed them toward the lab, completely forgetting about the customer’s lunch.
Because of that, Frank ended up with a one-star review.