Chapter Two: Two Difficulties

The following afternoon at two o’clock.

The free activity period at New York’s Hinger Prison began every day at two in the afternoon and lasted until just before five.

“Free activity” was in fact a euphemism for herding the inmates into a large open-air yard, filled with various exercise equipment, a basketball court, table tennis tables, lawns, and other ways to pass the time.

This wasn’t out of any humanitarian concern; statistics had shown that offering free activity significantly reduced inmates’ negative emotions and lowered the risk of riots.

Surrounding the yard were electrified fences, with armed guards stationed at every major exit. On the eastern tower, a warden with a sniper rifle scanned the area, the entire yard falling within his line of sight.

Anyone daring to attempt escape would likely be shot dead on the spot.

Zhong Shenxiu sat on the gravel in the center of the yard, the only public area available. The rest of the facilities were occupied by the prison’s two main gangs: the Redneck Brotherhood and the Brotherhood of Brothers, their memberships consisting primarily of white and black inmates, respectively.

Their mutual hostility was so obvious that anyone could sense the tension thick enough to choke on. The air was heavy with the threat of violence.

The central public area—the gravel—was the domain of people like Zhong Shenxiu, an Asian, and others who hadn’t joined any gang, regardless of whether they were white or black.

[63 hours, 52 minutes, 17 seconds]

Glancing at the steadily decreasing timer, Zhong Shenxiu felt the weight of pressure grow ever heavier in his heart.

Though it said sixty-three hours, the real time was even less—about ten hours shorter—because every death row inmate was granted a final wish before their execution.

At that time, the inmate could make a request to the wardens—usually something like a sumptuous final meal, a night with a woman, or another easily granted wish—and the guards would oblige.

For most, this was a privilege. For Zhong Shenxiu, it was nothing but a waste of precious time.

When that moment came, he’d be locked in the death row cell; any hope of accomplishing anything would be lost.

In other words, being conservative, he had only about fifty hours left.

Including this session, he had three free activity periods remaining.

He had to complete the novice mission within these three windows: find an injured person and heal them!

But...

How was he to do it?

Now that the time had come, Zhong Shenxiu realized that finding an “injured person to treat” was far harder than he’d imagined last night.

There were two main difficulties.

First, there were almost no injured people in the prison. Even the slightest bump or scrape sent most inmates running to the infirmary, wailing and complaining.

After all, that was where the prison’s only woman, Dr. Kinsha, worked.

Second was Zhong Shenxiu’s own issue: whenever he used his healing ability, his hands would glow green. In a prison filled with cameras, with guards watching every blind spot, using his power would almost certainly expose his secret.

In the Marvel universe, with S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, and countless other powerful organizations, such an exposure would mean that even if he managed to get out one day, his future would be bleak at best.

At the very least, he’d end up on every organization’s watchlist.

So, ideally, he needed to find an injured person, lure them into a place without cameras or guards, and heal them there.

But that was almost impossible in a prison.

Zhong Shenxiu had been agonizing over this problem all morning.

Watching as the Redneck Brotherhood and the Brotherhood of Brothers began hurling insults at each other once again, he suddenly steeled himself and thought:

Give it two more days. If worst comes to worst, during the final free period, I’ll just pick someone, injure him myself, and then heal him right there.

If I get exposed, so be it. The system never said I couldn’t. Survival comes first.

“Hey, Xiu. Why are you sitting here looking so down?”

The familiar voice drew Zhong Shenxiu from his thoughts. He looked up to see who it was.

It was a young white man, just over six feet tall, with a lean build.

His name was White Chudall, apparently a friend of the original Zhong Shenxiu in prison. Much of what Zhong Shenxiu knew about the place had come from him, gleaned in conversation.

“It’s nothing, White. If you found out you were meeting your maker in three days, I bet you’d look just like me,” Zhong Shenxiu replied.

White scratched his head and plopped down beside Zhong Shenxiu with a thud. “If it were me, I’d be faking sick every day to stay in the infirmary. Xiu, you have no idea how gorgeous Dr. Kinsha is. That figure, that waist... damn, my eyes nearly popped out of my head when I was in that hospital bed.”

Zhong Shenxiu glanced at his friend’s lecherous expression, but felt no amusement. All he wanted was to survive.

“Why aren’t you with your Redneck buddies?” Zhong Shenxiu nodded toward the Redneck Brotherhood, who were busy trading insults with the other gang, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, that...” The question snapped White out of his reverie. He leaned in close, lowering his voice:

“You know me, Xiu—I’ve never liked violence. I heard the two gangs are about to go to war. I just want to stay as far away as possible.”

“A war? When?”

Zhong Shenxiu’s interest was immediately piqued. If the two gangs clashed, his two main obstacles would be solved in an instant.

A brawl would mean plenty of injuries, and in the chaos, he’d have no trouble finding a spot without guards or cameras.

For Zhong Shenxiu, it was a blessing from the heavens.

“Xiu, since when were you so eager for a fight?” White teased, noting his friend’s eager expression.

But then he remembered: Zhong Shenxiu had only three days left. Anyone on death row would want one last spectacle before they died.

A thousand-man riot was certainly a show worth watching.

White grew serious. “Word is, it’s four days from now.”

Four days?

The answer chilled Zhong Shenxiu to the bone.

Four days—too late. By then, he’d be a charred corpse on the electric chair. No matter how fierce the gang war, it would mean nothing to him.

Perhaps seeing Zhong Shenxiu’s sudden change of expression, White added quickly:

“Don’t worry, Xiu. We’re friends, aren’t we? I can make those two gangs start fighting earlier. I’ll let you know when it’s about to happen—just make sure you come out for the show.”

“How are you going to do that?” Zhong Shenxiu asked, skeptical. White was technically a member of the Redneck Brotherhood, but such a minor figure he shouldn’t be able to affect the timing of a gang war.

White grinned mysteriously and replied in clumsy Mandarin, “Three men... three men together have a clever plan...”

“It’s ‘a wise man always has a way.’”

“Heh, close enough, close enough.”