"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Urgent knocking suddenly erupted, echoing loudly through the quiet night.
Who could it be?
In the middle of the night, enemies?
Silas's eyes narrowed as he rose from the sofa.
He saw his sister emerge from the kitchen, gripping a dining knife in reverse, discreetly pressed against the inside of her wrist, ready to strike at any moment.
"What's going on?"
The landlady Emily poked her head out from the bedroom, asking with uncertainty and alarm.
"Stay inside."
Silas said curtly, striding quickly toward the entrance.
The "Shepherd" potion inside him showed no reaction. The people outside were either ordinary humans or powerful Beyonders skilled at concealment.
With this thought, he approached the door.
"Who is it?"
Silas asked, simultaneously releasing the restrictions on his hearing, listening intently to the sounds beyond the door.
He immediately detected seven or eight breathing patterns on the other side.
Some were heavy and labored, as if after intense exertion, while others were rapid and irregular, suggesting severe weakness.
Doesn't seem like any dangerous experts.
Silas formed a hypothesis.
"Mr. Anderson, it's me."
Sure enough, a somewhat familiar voice came from behind the door. It was Charles, the gang leader he'd met a few days ago.
Opening the door, his scarred face came into view. Also entering Silas's line of sight were the several men behind him.
These people all bore varying degrees of injury, blood dripping everywhere.
The most severely wounded were being carried by the others, their consciousness fading.
Blood dripped steadily from their bodies, quickly pooling on the floor.
"According to our previous agreement, I've come to ask for your help."
Charles said.
"Come in first."
Silas didn't waste words, simply stepping aside. They filed into the apartment in disarray, blood trailing all the way across the floor.
Emily stared at this group of bloodied people, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.
Silas signaled to his sister to take the young woman and retreat, keeping her from being frightened.
"Who's the most serious?"
He asked.
"It's Tom! My best brother!"
A burly man said emotionally, his torn shirt exposing abundant body hair.
"Save him, he's dying!"
Silas followed his indication and saw that the man called Tom was a small fellow with a stiff piece of paper lodged in his chest.
Blood was seeping from both the wound and his mouth.
"Gurgle, gurgle..."
Blood-tinged bubbles were forming at his mouth. His lungs must be damaged.
With an internal organ injury this severe, even the best hospital in Backlund would find it tricky.
Wait much longer and this guy would die from suffocation.
Tom's complexion was slowly turning ashen blue.
"Brother, hang in there!"
The burly man shouted.
"Alright, move aside quickly."
Silas pushed past the burly man and examined the patient, confirming this was his only wound.
He pressed on the injury site and slowly extracted the paper, activating the Rose Bishop's flesh magic ability.
"Cough, cough..."
The pain of removing the paper stimulated the small man, causing him to struggle and cough.
"Someone hold him down."
Silas said. Once several others had pinned down his limbs, he continued extracting the paper while activating flesh magic to heal the damaged lung.
After some commotion, Tom's wound healed. He coughed up some blood, then his breathing smoothed out. Finally, he even sat up on his own.
"I'm healed?"
He looked down at his chest, speaking in disbelief.
"You're fine now, brother!"
The big man said excitedly. The others also looked pleased.
Silas ignored this group, instead looking down at the paper strip.
It was a piece of Intis-style letter paper with a classic "poem" by Emperor Roselle written in elegant script:
"If you were a teardrop in my eye,
For fear of losing you,
I would never cry."
No matter how you looked at it, this was just an ordinary piece of paper.
But why had this paper become so sharp that it could pierce through a person's body?
It had to be a Beyonder.
Silas glanced up at Charles, noticing he didn't look relieved despite his subordinate's recovery.
On the contrary, his brow remained tightly furrowed, as if worried about something.
The others' injuries weren't as severe, but examining them closely revealed strange details.
Besides wounds cut by similar paper strips, there were also injuries resembling bullet wounds.
Strangely though, the wounds hadn't penetrated through, and the bullets had vanished after causing damage, as if they'd been shot with bullets made of air.
Silas treated them one by one, healing all their injuries. Looking at their unblemished skin, these thugs appeared both shocked and frightened, their gazes toward Silas now tinged with awe.
This ability beyond their comprehension completely overturned their understanding.
After treating the injuries, Silas didn't rest. He cut his finger and let a drop of his own blood fall onto the spilled blood on the floor.
The blood on the ground quickly began moving on its own, gathering into a liquid sphere that Silas held in his hand before tossing into the sink.
This peculiar blood-controlling ability frightened them even more.
Charles watched Silas's actions, appearing thoughtful.
"All patched up. One critical injury, 10 pounds; two serious injuries, 5 pounds; four minor injuries, 5 pounds. That comes to 20 pounds total. Fair enough?"
After disposing of everything, Silas walked before Charles and extended his palm.
"Of course that's fair. I should say, thank you very much."
Charles quickly recovered, smiling at Silas with a politeness unbefitting a gangster.
He took out his wallet from his pocket and counted out two bills from a stack of cash, handing them to Silas.
All 10-pound notes. Are gangs really this flush?
Silas glanced at his wallet and accepted the bills. He started to casually stuff them in his pocket, only to realize the straitjacket had no pockets, so he tossed them on the table instead.
"By the way, what's all this about?"
He picked up the paper strip from the table and asked Charles, "Did you provoke some dangerous character?"
It appeared that Charles's Raman Gang had been attacked by a Beyonder.
"There was... an incident."
Charles said briefly, his face showing a bitter smile.
He looked at Silas, hesitated a moment, then asked, "Mr. Anderson, I wonder if you'd be interested in helping us?"
"I'm already helping you."
Silas played dumb.
He'd already guessed what the other party wanted to say. Probably asking him to intervene and confront the Beyonder who attacked them.
"Not just in that way..."
Charles said. "I mean, you also possess Beyonder abilities. I wonder if your abilities could counter that enemy? If you can help us, we're willing to pay adequate compensation!"
"...Tell me the specific situation first, then I'll consider it."
Silas looked at him, somewhat interested, but didn't immediately agree.
The Beyonder who had inflicted these injuries on these guys seemed skilled in combat. A decent grazing target. If he could capture them, his first sheep might finally be secured.