Chapter 78 — Shadow Burst
Ethan stepped out of the apartment building, the cool morning air brushing lightly against his face.
The Upper West Side hadn't fully awakened yet.
Jogging along Central Park West, Ethan soon slipped into the greenery of the park, still wrapped in a thin layer of mist.
There were already scattered runners inside the park. Their footsteps and breathing blended together into a soft rhythm.
Gradually, Ethan found his pace.
Inhale. Step. Land.
The repetitive simplicity of the motion suddenly made him realize something—
It had been a long time since he truly felt his own body.
Recently, life had felt like an unstoppable machine, pushing him forward without pause. He was constantly moving, barely stopping, even his breathing and thinking becoming hurried.
But now he was simply running.
The solid sensation of his feet hitting the ground felt even more grounding than the healing light he used every day.
After completing a lap, he stopped by the lake to stretch.
The mist slowly thinned as the morning sun spread a soft golden glow across the water.
He exhaled deeply.
Maybe he should make this a daily habit.
Not just to burn off Max's cupcakes.
And not just to avoid losing in a stamina contest with a "retired assassin."
But simply to bring himself back into life, instead of being dragged along by it.
Otherwise, you might do countless things… yet feel as if nothing truly stayed behind.
He suddenly thought of Illidan.
Ten thousand years of imprisonment, only to be summarized by a single sentence in the end.
No matter how long time stretches, if you never pause to live within it, it can all be reduced to a passing line.
For ordinary people with an eighty-year lifespan, racing full throttle to the finish line would be even more tragic.
The thought settled clearly in his mind—
Start with a daily morning run.
Slow down a little.
Steady yourself.
Live each day fully.
Ethan turned back toward his apartment, feeling lighter than before.
---
By evening, Ethan had just finished a busy day at the clinic and was about to turn off the lights when the door suddenly slammed open.
A man stumbled inside.
His suit jacket was completely soaked in blood.
A white dress shirt underneath was spreading with deep crimson stains. The fabric at his chest had been punctured by a bullet, the edges stiff and darkened.
His face was pale as if drained of blood, breathing ragged but his eyes still sharp and alert.
His right pant leg had been cut open, revealing a long, deep wound.
Blood had dried along his calf in dark streaks—he had clearly tried to bandage it himself, though it had done little good.
The man leaned against the doorframe, barely standing.
His voice was hoarse.
"…John told me to come find you."
He pulled a heavy gold coin from his coat.
It flashed once in the air before slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the floor.
"He said… you can heal anything here."
The coin rang sharply against the ground.
After saying the last word, the man finally collapsed, sliding down the wall as he clutched his chest wound. Blood seeped through his fingers.
Ethan looked at the man John had sent.
Not young anymore—but his physique was still strong.
Even after losing that much blood, he had managed to walk all the way to the clinic.
"Of course I can save you."
Ethan casually cast a Healing, helping him toward the treatment table.
"Rayne Clinic policy: service first, payment later. If you're not satisfied, you don't pay."
"So far, satisfaction rate—one hundred percent."
Just as he finished speaking—
The clinic door burst open again.
Ethan hadn't even turned around yet when gunshots exploded through the room.
"Damn it."
He instantly cast Power Word: Shield on himself, shoved the injured man aside, and dodged.
A woman stood at the doorway holding a pistol.
Her target was clearly the wounded man.
Half a magazine of bullets slammed into his body, while the rest sprayed wildly across the clinic, turning the room into chaos.
After emptying the magazine, she smoothly reloaded.
The wounded man lay on the floor but managed to turn his head upward.
The woman looked down at him with a faint smile.
"Hi, Marcus. Never thought you'd run here."
Marcus coughed blood.
"Perkins… so it was you leaking information. Honestly, I'm not even surprised."
"Viggo has already withdrawn the bounty," Marcus gasped. "And this place is neutral territory set by the Continental. Shooting here is very unwise."
"Neutral territory?"
The woman laughed lightly and turned toward Ethan.
"Sorry, doctor. I'll clean this up and leave right away."
Then she pointed the gun back at Marcus.
"Viggo gave me a private contract—ignore the Continental rules. Kill you and John. And while I'm at it, take care of his wife."
"Double bounty. Five million dollars."
She aimed carefully.
"Unfortunately John and his wife are hiding inside the hotel right now. So I'll have to settle for you first."
"But don't worry. Your two friends will join you soon enough."
She pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Her expression changed.
It wasn't that the gun malfunctioned.
She simply couldn't pull the trigger.
"What the hell? Who's messing with me?"
She tried to turn her head.
She couldn't.
Her body refused to move.
"Who—"
Her mouth froze shut.
She couldn't even speak.
She watched in horror as her own body lowered the gun.
Then she walked across the clinic, rummaging through a cabinet until she found a rope.
Her hands began tying themselves together.
Once her wrists were bound, she paused, confused.
Her hands were tied.
So she couldn't tie herself to the chair.
"...What the—!"
She cursed.
Then she stared at the wall.
She hesitated for a moment.
And suddenly began smashing her head into it.
Once.
Twice.
Soon blood started running down her forehead—but she didn't stop.
The final impact knocked her unconscious.
Ethan finally walked over.
"Seriously? Why does a normal person have such high resistance? Am I rusty with shadow magic or what?"
He finished tying her securely to the chair.
Then he turned back to Marcus.
The man's vitality was terrifying.
After taking several more bullets, he was somehow still alive.
Blood dripped from his lips.
One of the bullets had clearly hit a lung—he tried to speak but immediately broke into violent coughing.
"Alright, alright. Save your strength," Ethan said, waving him quiet. "Talk after you're healed."
He helped Marcus onto the treatment table.
After thinking for a moment, Ethan cast Guardian Spirit first.
A faint angelic silhouette spread its wings above Marcus.
The man seemed to calm down instantly.
Then Ethan cast another Heal and began removing the bullets.
"Clink."
The final bullet dropped into the tray.
Ethan wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"This guy took over a dozen bullets… seriously, you're like a cockroach that won't die."
Earlier, Ethan had thought that if he simply kept up with his running, he might eventually reach the same physical level as these people.
Now, looking at Marcus—who had walked into his clinic after taking this many bullets—he realized how ridiculous that thought had been.
After removing the bullets, Ethan applied a full set of healing spells.
Finally, the worst of it was over.
Marcus, weakened by anesthesia and heavy blood loss, remained unconscious.
Ethan cleaned up his instruments, wiped down the treatment table, and began tidying the clinic—mopping the bloodstains in the treatment room and outer area, collecting the scattered shell casings from the floor.
Once everything looked clean again, he walked over to check on the woman.
She was tied to the chair, apparently still unconscious.
Ethan stood beside her, hesitating about what to do next.
Suddenly—
The woman exploded into motion.
She lunged forward and slammed Ethan to the floor, one arm crushing down on his throat and pinning him there. With her free hand she grabbed a nearby glass cup, raising it to smash against his head—
Then she saw something.
Something that seemed utterly terrifying.
Her body trembled violently. The cup slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor as she staggered backward, clutching her head and spinning in panic.
"Psychic Scream!"
Ethan had cast the spell the instant she tackled him.
He pushed himself up from the floor, quickly creating distance while gathering shadow energy in both hands.
"Mind Blast."
"Shadow Word: Pain."
"Vampiric Touch."
"Mind Flay."
"Mind Flay."
"Mind Flay."
…
The woman soon collapsed.
Aside from the faint rise and fall of her chest, she showed no sign of movement.
Ethan stopped casting.
Looking closer, he noticed something disturbing.
At some point she had freed herself from the ropes.
After checking carefully, he realized how—
She had broken her own wrist to slip her hands out of the bindings.
Ethan stared, shocked.
That ruthless?
He immediately raised his hands again.
"Mind Blast."
"Shadow Word: Pain."
…
He cycled through the spells one more time.
This time, the woman stopped moving completely.
Dead beyond doubt.
Marcus walked in.
Having just regained consciousness, he took in the scene and checked the woman's body.
"She's dead," he said calmly. "Doctor, you were lucky. That woman was extremely dangerous. A lot of people underestimated her because of her sweet face."
He adjusted his coat and rolled his shoulder experimentally, surprise flickering across his face.
"No wonder John recommended you. I feel completely recovered—actually better than before."
"How many coins do I owe you?"
"Twenty gold," Ethan replied.
"Normally ten would've been enough. But she added a few extra bullets to you. One of them hit a critical area, so it took more effort."
"Very fair pricing," Marcus said, patting his pockets.
"Unfortunately I didn't bring that many coins. Could I—"
"You can pay within a week."
Ethan wiped his hands and added calmly,
"My clinic has two rules."
"If you're not satisfied, you don't pay."
"And if you don't pay—don't come back."
Marcus nodded.
"Perfectly reasonable."
He glanced at the body on the floor and added,
"Doctor, do you know Charlie? You can call him—he'll help you clean up the scene."
"Oh, right. I think I have his number."
"Good. Then I won't disturb you any longer. Until next time, doctor."
Marcus turned and walked toward the door.
Just as he reached it, Ethan suddenly called out.
"Hey—Marcus, right? Wait a second."
Marcus turned back.
"Yes, doctor?"
Ethan spoke seriously.
"Could you help spread the word?"
"My clinic charges one gold coin for diagnosis."
"Treatment starts at ten gold—no upper limit. Payment due within one week."
"And one more thing."
"Anyone who starts a fight inside my clinic is permanently blacklisted."
Marcus smiled slightly.
"Of course, doctor."
"Should I charge you a gold coin for spreading the message? You could deduct it from today's treatment fee."
"That won't be necessary for such a small favor."
He nodded politely.
"Goodbye, doctor."
…
(Special thanks to JustAReaders)