Rewriting the Apocalypse

30_ Why so lively?

Zhou Feng was on the hunt—tracking down Yang Yifei’s subordinates, just as the government had ordered. With Yang Yifei preoccupied protecting the base, this was the perfect opportunity to strike. His team had already been briefed and agreed on the plan.

The only issue? They needed someone to infiltrate, and it had to be someone believable. An outsider would be too suspicious. That’s when they decided—Derek would play the bait.

[Derek—the big guy with muscles and no brain, always working alongside Red and Mei.]

Since the enemy was primarily after gifted individuals to turn into human weapons, Derek, a non-gifted, was the perfect candidate to be captured.

The staged fight took place in the middle of a ruined city, buildings crumbling around them as if even the earth itself had seen too much bloodshed. Yang Yifei’s secret group engaged in a vicious battle with the F.T.L. forces, creating enough chaos to make the act seem real.

The plan was simple: Zhou Feng would fake an attack against Derek, making it look convincing enough to draw the enemy’s attention.

Except Derek apparently took his role a little too seriously.

Zhou Feng was glancing around, checking the positioning of their targets, when—

CRACK!

Derek’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending him crashing hard onto the pavement.

Zhou Feng blinked in shock, vision momentarily spinning. His glare snapped up at Derek, who was grinning like an idiot.

"This is an act, you dumbass." Zhou Feng growled, wiping the blood from his lip.

Derek just cracked his knuckles. "Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it."

Zhou Feng’s eyes darkened.

Fine. If he wanted to play, they’d play.

With a flick of his wrist, a nearby car lifted off the ground, its metal frame groaning as it hovered ominously. Then, with a thought, he sent it flying straight at Derek.

The vehicle slammed into him, pinning him against a cracked wall with a thunderous boom. Dust and debris exploded into the air.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, Derek’s deep chuckle rumbled through the settling dust.

"Ugh—" He shoved the wreckage aside, stepping out with barely a scratch. He rolled his shoulder, looking thoroughly entertained. "That doesn’t mean I can’t beat your ass. Or did you forget? It was your damn group that captured us last time."

He spat onto the ground, his eyes gleaming with an unspoken challenge.

Zhou Feng smirked, rolling his neck until it popped. "Careful, big guy. Keep playing like this, and you might not make it out of this act alive."

Derek just grinned wider, cracking his knuckles.

The fight had barely started.

Derek barely had time to roll his shoulders before Zhou Feng moved.

Fast.

One second, he was standing a few feet away—the next, Zhou Feng was right in front of him, fist already slamming into his gut with bone-crushing force.

Derek coughed, spitting blood as the impact sent him skidding backward, boots digging trenches into the cracked pavement. But before he could fully recover, Zhou Feng was already striking again.

A sharp kick to the side—ribs cracking. A second punch—faster, heavier—colliding with Derek’s face, snapping his head to the side.

Derek barely got an arm up in defense before a telekinetic force lifted him off the ground.