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墨書 Inktalez
"Go, hurry up! As long as you can leave here, sooner or later, you will become stronger than your brother. From now on, you must live strong. Your brother is proud of you."
"Brother Chevrolet"
"Move it!"
"Hehehe, trying to escape? We, the Ninja Blade Seven Heroes, have been hunting you for a long time, Chevrolet. So this is where you've been hiding. No one is leaving here today."
"Hmph, I never intended to live long. I'm just leaving the organization. I knew I wouldn't be able to hide forever; it’s time to put an end to this."
"Want to leave? Brothers, attack!"
"Look, I’ll send you off with this move: Ten Steps, One Kill!"
"No!"
As Fetter gasped in shock, a powerful aura surged from Chevrolet, spreading forcefully. The Ninja Blade Seven Heroes swarmed in, and soon the scene became intensely chaotic.
A fierce storm erupted; at that moment, Fetter felt everything before him turn white. He was temporarily blinded. The longer he stayed in that space, the more he felt his senses being gradually stripped away.
The shock from the peak confrontation of masters was overwhelming for him. Ever since that incident, he had become a Professional Hunter, constantly searching for information about the Ninja Blade Seven Heroes. Yet he found nothing; it was as if someone was playing a joke on him. All the information managers looked at his actions with bewilderment.
He had to keep waiting until Brother Chevrolet appeared before him again.
This was truly insane—searching for an organization that didn’t even exist. There was almost no detailed background information on Xue Fulei.
Hunter Chevrolet was a mystery to the outside world. To Fetter, he could be a mentor or even a man who could stand in for his father—strict yet kind, never raising his voice, always offering gentle guidance.
Memories he wished to forget resurfaced after a long time. Chevrolet had influenced his entire life, and he wondered why he worked so hard; who was it all for?
He could feel emotions like any ordinary person—sadness, pain, joy, and laughter. For the sake of the nonexistent Brother Chevrolet in his mind, he bore many burdens.
"I should understand what Brother Chevrolet carried back then—the weight of responsibility that felt suffocating. Brother, you are the strongest and eternal hunter in my heart. No one can ever compare to you; it doesn’t matter what others think. To me, you are real and alive. You live on in my heart. I cannot stop searching for traces of your past; you were so strong, so great, so kind. I want to catch up to you."
"Before that, I must move on from the past. I'm sorry, Brother; I have broken my promise."
"Perhaps I want to try bearing all of this. That child resembles you in some ways. Seeing him feels like seeing you again. It moved me deeply; I used the forbidden technique you taught me—Ten Steps, One Kill—but I have no regrets. Even if I die, it’s alright; I did what I needed to do and protected everything I should guard."
He thought of this as a tribute to Brother Chevrolet, knowing that the figure could no longer offer him any opinions.
He persisted in this path without knowing why; at that moment, his heart melted.
If there were an afterlife, Brother would surely be living well now—Brother Chevrolet.
"Heart rate increasing! Everyone, lend a hand! We can succeed; we’re at the final step!"
"The pulse has revived; this is a good sign! Let’s do it again!"
"We're running low on oxygen in the tanks; hurry and get new ones!"
"Give me a towel!"
"Yes, Doctor!"
The doctors in the Container were bustling around, hardly finding a moment to rest as they tended to the patients on the beds.
After more than thirty minutes, a body that had been lifeless began to show signs of life again. Fetter's condition was indeed special, particularly because the damage to his organs was severe. Now, the only option was to transplant artificial organs for the surgical procedure. Fortunately, Fetter's body was robust and strong; even after having organs removed, he could still survive for a minute in this state.
One minute was enough time for the Attending Physician. Facing such a major surgery, the procedure itself was not overly complicated, though it did come with high costs. Organ transplantation had become a basic Surgery.
The reconstructed organs and limbs appeared lifelike, and once transplanted into the patient, they would not differ significantly from those of a healthy person.
However, during the initial period after receiving artificial organs, there was a high likelihood of experiencing some discomfort.
Still, it was far better than dying on the operating table.
As Fetter received his new organs, the numbers on the life support monitor skyrocketed. At that moment, the doctors who had been working tirelessly were filled with excitement and cheered; this clearly indicated that Fetter had passed the critical phase.
His vital signs had returned to normal, and as his pulse resumed its rhythm, the intense beating gradually calmed down.
It truly had been a close call. Once the follow-up tasks were completed, the doctors fulfilled their respective missions.
They were also in urgent need of rest to recover their strength, as they could be called upon at any moment to assist a large number of Injuries.
The door of the Container was suddenly pushed open, and three or four Attending Physicians emerged. Pushing a hospital bed from inside was Fetter, who still had an Oxygen Mask on. His chest, abdomen, and the inner muscles of his thighs were clearly marked with countless cuts.
It seemed that he might survive, but the road ahead would undoubtedly be filled with struggles and hardships.
“How is he, Doctor?”
In an instant, many Hunters surrounded them.
They blocked the doctors' path; to them, this situation was not unusual, regardless of whether it was ethical or not. They simply wanted to clarify the condition of Star Hunter Master Peter from the doctors' mouths.
After a long period of anxious waiting, seeing the doctors emerge together from the Container, they could anticipate any outcome.
“We have done our best. Fetter is very resilient. The probability of him surviving in good health is quite high—over seventy percent.”
“However, he will need three months of rest. Otherwise, surgery would be meaningless.”
“This time, both external and internal injuries have placed a tremendous burden on his body. We must avoid letting him return to the battlefield during this period to prevent further strain on his health. Otherwise, even if surgery becomes necessary later, we cannot guarantee his safety and well-being.”
“We will ensure that.” Listening to the doctors' weary and helpless voices, Medusa instinctively gestured in response and hurriedly made way for them.
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