The landscape changes fast around me. How fast , you may ask ? Well, it should be 82 km/h right now . Pretty good for someone in the 9th stage of qi refinement by the way. Yes , I'm just running, following my usual route prepared for escape. The route starts from the college campus, goes through slums, followed by a big park zone and ends in an abandoned village outside the city. It could be a very enjoyable run if I had some music, but what accompanies me is a BGM composed by 15 high school delinquents .
"Stop running, coward " says idiot A. Nu-uh , I prefer to be a coward much more than being a punchbag
" The more you run , the more bones we will break later " says idiot B. The more I have a reason to run faster.
"Run , bitch , run ! Resistance only makes me harder "says perverted idiot C. No comment.
And so on and on for almost 40 minutes already. For your information, if they ever catch me and make me know how having my liver ruptured feels like , I won't blame them afterward. All in all such consequences are expected when you post someone's dark history on a public city forum. Nothing more than some photos, a couple of videos, and a little bit of text are enough to make their social life harder. Well, they gave me a reason to do so . No one bullies our big-breasted freshmen.
Instead , I will blame a novel author. Yep, you have heard right. An author of " My three wives are gorgeous dampires" Victor Weissman . Not a bad novel I should say but not good enough to fuck over internet community as it did. You will ask how is that possible? Almost every internet user knows that story but here's the answer.
Just before the cultivation boom , more than 30 years ago , the infamous barones.net posted Victor's story on their site. He tried to fight in the comments section for great justice to no avail. Posting his locked chapters was their answer. Tit for tat between pirates and author went for months. Then [c_c_m.rar] happened. One of the cultivation methods , based on the energy generated from butthurt , suited just right for Victor. His pain propelled him trough cultivation realms like a rocket. Then he went into politics. Backed by his physical power he pushed strict laws about copyright and criminal responsibility for stealing intellectual property. As well directly destroying servers of barones . Then this leads to that, great big battles happened at the expense of several towns and in the end each novel , picture or post became bonded to its creators. Such bonding provoked a lack of anonymity for authors and some journalists got the short end of the stick. I am not a journalist, but the aforementioned drama bit me in the ass after 30 years.
So , I'm on the run. Long story short, I lost my chasers after strenuous fifteen minutes and here I am , hiding inside an abandoned building to catch my breath...
"Did you bring the money?"
"Of course. Have you brought the meds? "
" Come on , it's not the first time you work with me. Who's there?!!"
"Hello , it's me ~" I hope they like Adele's songs .
Nope , their faces became ugly enough to extinguish my hopes like candles on a birthday cake. Uncultured bastards .
*SMACK*
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Well, seems somebody didn't expect my arrival and wasn't happy about it. Why do I think so ? Because being awakened by holographic messages on my retinas while going deeper and deeper underwater thanks to a big stone fastened to my legs is very suggestive, isn't it ? I don't even remember when I was knocked out.
As I remember the class of mammals , which I still believe I belong to , don't have gills . So it's time to get to the surface. Oh , come on. Was tying my hands such a big necessity? If I was in your place, I'd kill an unexpected intruder within seconds. I'm a magnanimous man after all. And such a man shouldn't have run away from schoolboys.
Anyway, think Johnny , think. What can you do in such situation ? Yes ! Yes , I've got it!! I can sing my last song. Hello darkness, my sweet frie...
Wait a fucking minute. A message?
