In the pitch-black darkness, a barely perceptible hum was heard from the small cubicle in the sewer.
With a whirring sound, the homemade dumbbell weighing dozens of kilograms was passed back and forth between Luke's left hand and the energy arm, moving with the surrounding air and creating gusts of breeze in the narrow space.
He did several sets in a row until his body was completely drenched in sweat and his clothes were soaked, then he began to rest.
It's November now and the temperature has dropped a little bit.
Luke, who lives in the sewer, can relate to this even more.
Before the end of the month, he needs to find his next shelter to avoid dying from lack of food or low temperatures this winter.
Although for a super-powered person, the probability of this happening is not high.
A meteorite impact decades ago appears to have altered the planet's climate to some extent.
Luke had heard of the existence of snow in some old documents at home, but he had never seen it in the first twenty years of his life.
Even so, the winter in Hope City is enough to freeze to death humans who do not even have the most basic and crude houses.
Although there are no such humans in Hope City now, Luke is one of them as an illegal resident.
Thinking of this, Luke, who was lying on the ground sweating, couldn't help but mutter to himself:
“Well, when we stock up tomorrow, we should take a look around to see if there are any vacant, dilapidated houses nearby… It’s best not to be too far from the inner city, so that it will be easier to follow up.
"You don't need to bring some unnecessary things. The time should be set at...who?!"
Following Luke's low shout, a faint purple light flashed in the darkness.
Luke turned his body sideways at an extremely fast speed, letting his empty right sleeve face the ground. At the same time, an energy arm was generated instantly, directly bouncing him off the ground.
With this force, Luke gathered his strength and punched deep into the small space.
As a sewer compartment without even a door, there was no way to reach a more inland location without attracting Luke's attention.
But in a critical moment, Luke chose to trust his own abilities and hearing.
He punched down, but missed.
When Luke stood still, the entire sewer returned to silence again, with no sound except the sound of water flowing outside.
He held his breath and began to scan his surroundings using the night vision he had developed during this period.
Nothing more, nothing less, except...
There seemed to be an extra piece of paper on the low table made of two wooden boards...
What?
Luke frowned, reached out subconsciously, and then immediately retracted his left hand.
He began to reflect on his bad habits - he only had one hand left, so it would be better to use the energy arm if he could...
Picking up the paper with his right hand, Luke began to search through the surrounding debris for some junk that could provide light.
His night vision ability is not that amazing, but it is already commendable that he can see new things appearing.
Soon, he found a battle-tested flashlight.
The outer shell of this thing has been weathered, and when it is turned on, the lights flashing alternately at an extremely fast frequency make people's eyes go dark.
Luke ignored this minor flaw and started adaptive blinking to fill in frames.
A few seconds later, he saw clearly what was written on the paper:
"There will be a sewer cleaning operation within three days."
Luke's brows were knitted together.
Who did it? Why help yourself? Is it true?
A series of questions came to his mind, making him feel a little confused.
The sewer is a place that most people tend to overlook.
Perhaps it is a remnant of habits from the old era. It is normal to see a manhole cover on the road, but it seems a bit strange to have the idea of crawling into it.
Luke's position should not have been suspected, or should not have been exposed so quickly.
Every time he sneaked into a vehicle transporting nutritional paste, he was on a different transportation line, and the location and time of the crime were very random, making it impossible to find a pattern to identify himself.
Is there something else that was exposed?
But why would someone who knew the inside story tip me off?
Luke held the paper in his hand and fell silent.
There is actually nothing wrong with this. I wanted to move anyway, but I felt like there was a pair of eyes staring at me no matter where I went. This feeling made me want to go crazy.
Luke closed his eyes and began to think about his time plan for the next few days.
The general plan has not actually changed, I just need to execute it faster.
Suddenly, he thought of a question:
The paper that just appeared was folded and placed inside the compartment, and the sentence above was written on the outside of the folded paper.
This is not in line with normal people's letter-writing habits. Could it be that...
Luke turned on the flickering flashlight again, turned the paper in his hand to the back, and then he saw the [Certificate of Adoption].
His heart skipped a beat.
After reading the last line on the adoption certificate, the tattered flashlight finally came to the end of its life.
Along with the darkness and coldness in the narrow sewer compartment, Luke's heart also fell into darkness and coldness.
It turns out that I am not my biological child!
This news brought him a great shock.
Looking back on the past twenty years, Luke felt that his father was no different from the fathers of other children his age.
It can even be said that Lucas is more dedicated and conscientious in his role as a father than most people.
Growing up in such an environment, Luke never dreamed that he would be adopted.
Am I an orphan?
He suddenly thought of a detail that was a little strange, but one that he had never paid attention to before.
He seemed to remember very little about his mother.
Or to be more precise, his thoughts rarely go in this direction.
Even if he thought of it, there would always be a sentence that appeared in his mind for no reason:
My mother died of illness when I was very young.
This sentence seems to be the deepest part of the mind, and all questions about the mother will eventually end with this sentence.
But if you think about it carefully, something doesn't seem right.
What is your mother's name? What does she do? How old was she when she died? In which hospital did she die? Does your mother have any relatives on her side?
Luke just felt that these common, conceivable questions had not even entered his mind once in the past decade or so.
Obviously, if you think carefully, you can find the problem, and if you have the corresponding thoughts, you can realize that something is wrong.
But why has it never happened once? Has my memory really been tampered with?
In the cold darkness, Luke's body was covered with a thin layer of cold sweat, as if a cold-blooded reptile was crawling up his spine little by little.
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