"The name is Li Xunhuan. One hundredth-generation heir to the Little Li Flying Dagger school."

The person behind the rubble repeated the introduction without a trace of irony.

Shen Cong kept him fixed in the Third Eye and said: "Are you an actor?"

A pause. "No."

"Are you mentally ill?"

"Absolutely not."

"You give the impression of someone with a brain problem."

"What the — can you try being a normal person for two seconds?" The wry, theatrical tone cracked, replaced by genuine irritation. "I happen to be a devoted reader of wuxia fiction, do you understand? You saw the flying daggers. Unerring accuracy. Every throw. Exactly like Li Xunhuan. It's the end of the world — my identification documents are long gone, I can call myself whatever I want. Do you understand?"

"Understood," Shen Cong said. "Chuunibyou."

"Go to hell."

"I don't have one."

The person was probably exactly what they appeared to be — a dramatic young man with an adolescent fantasy. Probably. The novels Shen Cong had read were full of characters who were exactly that on the surface and something else entirely underneath. He wasn't ready to discard either possibility.

What he was certain of: this person had just tried to kill him. Whatever they were, they needed to be caught and dealt with. There was no version of this where Li Xunhuan walked away.

The target was sheltering behind rubble and refusing to come out. Shen Cong decided to simply charge. The throwing daggers hadn't landed with much force — the person seemed more notable for agility than raw power.

Overwhelming force simplified complicated situations. However quick they were, catching and killing someone was just a matter of getting close enough.

He surged forward.

Li Xunhuan sensed the movement immediately. "You do have a short temper, friend." And then he was moving too — flowing through the rubble like a cat, rolling and pivoting, rapidly vacating the position.

Shen Cong adjusted direction and pressed the chase, snapping off shots between strides. No bouncing stilts — those were for pursuit over open ground and clearing groups,…