Khan immediately decided to leave, but wisely did not approach his exoskeleton. Although the exoskeleton was definitely the best partner for protecting his life, the sound of activating it would definitely alert the intruders in the house. He had no choice but to temporarily abandon his only property.
He retreated slowly and gently, as if facing not a half-open window but the half-closed sleepy eyes of a ferocious beast. The frenzied secretion of adrenaline made him temporarily forget to breathe, his heart pounding, and his muscles releasing large amounts of lactic acid from the anaerobic exercise.
His hair stood on end, his six senses expanded, and his brain worked at high speed, collecting all the changes around him so that he could make judgments and decisions in time.
To Khan, those few seconds felt like a century. He could clearly sense the activity of life beyond the walls in front and behind him. On one side was a powerful, hidden beast, eager to capitalize on his death; on the other, a celestial demon lurking in the human world, wreaking havoc. He was at the end of his rope. No matter which direction he fled, all he saw was a hopeless, dead end.
Now he could only move forward.
That is a critical node that is certain, irreversible, and impossible to bypass, as if it were a deliberate arrangement by the underground gods.
Waves of dizziness came over him, and Khan could no longer maintain the state of overload.
As the air was drawn back into his lungs, cooling his body and contributing to various chemical reactions within his body, he suddenly realized that the atmosphere in the old capital wasn't so bad after all. The lack of oxygen had made him instinctively ignore the various impurities in the air. A few minutes later, he pushed open the back door of the tavern and climbed a narrow staircase to the first floor. Avoiding the surprised gaze of the bartender, who was idly polishing his crystal wine glass at the bar, he made his way between several cleaned high-top tables and opened the gate leading to the tenant area.
Due to his financial constraints and long-term rental, his room would certainly not be located next to the convenient entrance and main corridor, nor could it be a luxurious model on the second floor. However, considering his fighting power, the tavern owner allocated him a secluded single room near the warehouse, which was barely a preferential treatment.
Now is the time when the tenants go out to work, so the corridor is empty. The long passage is like the small intestine in the worker's stomach, and he is a ball of chyme that needs to be digested and absorbed.
He didn't know what he would face, and could only pray while stumbling forward in the darkness with his head covered. Perhaps he would become the nourishment of the empire, or perhaps he would become the annoying feces. Of course, he hoped that he would be a kernel of corn that had not been chewed carefully - going in as it was and coming out as it was.
As he got closer, he saw a ray of light coming from his room, which seemed to be some kind of ultraviolet device that was used to lure and kill light-loving flying insects.
Listen carefully, and you will hear the faint and ethereal singing of the deep space siren through the crack of the door: "The blood-red sea surrounds the fishing boat, and a storm is brewing after dusk. The big fish struggles, trying to drag the old man into the abyss, but the old man still clings to it, because that is his only hope..."
Khan unknowingly stood in front of the door, and several times wanted to knock, but he couldn't bear to interrupt the voice. He had never heard the story that the person behind the door was reading, even if it was only this short part, he wanted to continue listening.
However, not long after, the door opened automatically, and the bright light immediately flooded him. Then, after a brief and violent scuffle, the corridor returned to its original calm.
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