Screeech! Screeech! A dozen steel spearheads sliced through the cold night air before pressing tightly against Wu Chen's neck. The chill of the metal was so tangible that it nearly cut through the grime and sewer mud coating his skin. "Don't move! Keep your hands away from that filthy robe, or you'll have a hole in your neck!" one of the guards shouted, his voice thick with panic. He wore thick black leather armor. Wu Chen stood there, his entire body trembling violently. The high fever caused by the infected, torn wound on his left shoulder made his head feel as though it were being hammered by an iron maul. His consciousness kept flickering in and out, leaving his field of vision increasingly narrow and blurred under the system's merciless penalty. Beneath his robe, soaked through with sewage, he could feel little Xiao Yu curled up and trembling, clinging tightly to his waist without making a sound. "Damn it... surrounded again," Wu Chen groaned inwardly, suppress