American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

Lynn sprinted towards the parking lot, his steps as swift as the wind, his mind focused on only one thought: escape. There was no turning back, only the parked cars ahead and the iron gate not far away. He didn't know how much longer he could maintain his speed; the injuries from the car accident still throbbed with pain, but he had no other choice. Every time he looked back, he saw Alan's resolute figure hot on his heels, like a fierce cheetah rapidly closing the distance between them.

The parking lot wasn't large, and it was surrounded by high walls, making it feel quite enclosed. There was a small alley ahead; if he could get into it, he might be able to temporarily escape Alan's pursuit. Lynn knew that if Alan continued chasing him like this, he would never escape, but if he could get into the alley, he might be able to find an opportunity to counterattack, given his familiar surroundings.

"Don't stop, don't stop!" Lynn chanted to himself, gritting his teeth and sprinting towards the alleyway with all his might. He took two quick strides, giving Alan almost no chance to get close.

However, just as he approached the alleyway, Alan suddenly exerted his strength, accelerating his pace and immediately blocking his path. Alan was much faster than Lynn, almost instantly closing in on Lynn from behind. He grabbed Lynn's shoulder, pulled him sharply, and forcefully threw him aside. Lynn lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through his elbow as his skin was scraped by the pebbles on the ground.

“You can’t escape, Lynn.” Alan’s voice was cold and ruthless. He stood less than three meters away from Lynn, his eyes like a hunter staring at its prey, his face devoid of any emotion, only cold resolve.

Lynn gasped for breath, his hands bracing against the ground as he tried to stand, but the excruciating pain in his chest made each effort incredibly difficult. He watched Alan approach step by step, but felt no fear, only a fierce fighting spirit. He knew this was a critical moment for his life or death.

Alan's footsteps drew closer. He raised his foot, seemingly preparing to stomp on Lynn's chest and end the chase. However, Lynn did not give up. A resolute glint flashed in his eyes, and he suddenly leaped up from the ground, throwing a punch straight at Alan's chin.

Alan hadn't expected Lynn's sudden counterattack. He quickly dodged the punch, but not completely; the fist still grazed Alan's cheek, leaving a bloody gash. Lynn seized the opportunity to regain his footing and immediately launched another attack, staring directly into Alan's eyes without flinching.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” Alan said coldly, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. His gaze sharpened, piercing Lynn like a blade.

However, Lynn had no time to respond. He only knew that if he didn't defeat Alan quickly, he would have no chance to escape. He quickly adjusted his breathing, and his body lunged forward like a hawk swooping down on its prey, striking Alan's chest with fierce momentum.

Alan reacted swiftly, crossing his arms in a defensive stance to block Lynn's attack. However, Lynn did not stop. Using his momentum, he quickly changed the direction of his attack, striking Alan in the ribs from the side with a powerful punch that sent Alan staggering backward.

This blow finally caused Alan a slight pain. He stopped, took a deep breath, and looked down at the spot where he had been hit. Lynn knew that his punch wasn't fatal, but it had given Alan a moment to hesitate. In that instant, a glimmer of hope rose in Lynn's heart.

“You’re really something else,” Alan said through gritted teeth, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, a glint of madness flashing in his eyes. He lunged at Lynn, and suddenly, like a beast, Alan grabbed Lynn’s shoulders and slammed him to the ground.

“You can’t escape.” Alan’s deep voice carried a strong sense of oppression. His eyes were cold and ruthless, as if Lynn’s life or death meant nothing to him.

Lynn fell to the ground, the pain in his chest intensifying, his head spinning, almost losing consciousness. But then, he suddenly remembered the dagger in his car—the one he always carried, used not only for self-defense but also to deal with uninvited guests. The dagger was in his pocket; if he could escape Alan's hold again, he might have a chance to survive.

At that moment, Lynn hesitated almost without hesitation. He quickly rolled over and used all his strength to break free from Alan's hold. Alan had clearly underestimated his ability to resist. With a forceful sway, Lynn finally managed to break free from Alan's control, quickly got to his feet, and gripped the hilt of the dagger tightly in his hand.

"Are you crazy?" Alan's voice was somewhat impatient, his brows furrowed, as if he didn't understand why Lynn would choose this method.

“It’s not madness, it’s about survival.” Lynn’s voice was cold and resolute, his eyes filled with a death-defying aura.

Alan lunged forward again, but Lynn swiftly turned, his dagger flashing like lightning, aiming directly for Alan's ribs. Alan paused slightly, clearly not expecting Lynn's precise counterattack. His body swayed slightly, and blood gushed out instantly.

“You…” Alan’s voice was low, filled with anger and resentment. He glared at Lynn fiercely, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

Lynn didn't stop. He leaped up quickly, using Alan's injuries to accelerate his retreat and avoid Alan's counterattack. He panted, staring at the dagger in his hand, his eyes gleaming. Alan remained standing there, blood flowing from his wounds, but his eyes held no fear, only rage.

Lynn took a deep breath and quickly retreated a few steps. He knew that if they continued fighting like this, neither he nor Alan would necessarily escape unscathed. Moreover, the violent power emanating from Alan made Lynn vaguely feel that if he didn't seize this opportunity to leave, he would never have another chance.

“You won’t kill me easily today.” Lynn’s voice was full of confidence. He quickly ran to the other side of the parking lot, his figure disappearing from Alan’s sight like a gust of wind.

Alan took a deep breath, seemingly shaken by Lynn's determination, but he didn't rush to chase after him. He stood there quietly, watching Lynn's disappearing figure, his eyes filled with anger and resentment.

“Next time… I won’t let you escape,” Alan said softly, his voice filled with unwavering determination. He knew that Lynn was not just an enemy, but a challenge, pushing him to his absolute limits.

By this time, Lynn had already run into the dark alley and disappeared into the night.

Lynn hurriedly drove into the FBI parking lot, the roar of the engine still seeming to echo in his ears, and he still felt a tremor run through his body. After his intense confrontation with Alan, his heart remained filled with vigilance and suspicion. He quickly got out of the car and nervously crossed the parking lot, his steps hurried and forceful. Despite his efforts to remain calm, the dangerous aura emanating from Alan still made him feel uneasy.

As Lynn entered the building, his gaze swept around. The office lights were dim, and the air was thick with a busy and tense atmosphere. Several colleagues were engrossed in their computers, processing case files, while he headed straight for Mark's office. Mark was an FBI technician, responsible for various investigations and intelligence screenings. Thanks to his excellent technical skills and outstanding analytical abilities, he was one of Lynn's most trusted confidants. "Lynn, why are you so late?" Mark was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. Seeing Lynn enter, he immediately stood up, his tone full of concern.

“This is a bit of a problem, Mark.” Lynn’s face still looked somewhat gloomy, and a hint of anxiety flashed in his eyes. “I need your help.”

Mark didn't ask any further questions, knowing Lynn must have something to take care of. He turned and walked to a large computer, quickly starting to work. "What do you need?"

“I need you to find someone.” Lynn uttered Alan’s description concisely and clearly. He had decided that he had to sift through the database for Alan’s information as soon as possible, otherwise he would never be able to escape the shadow of this danger.

Mark nodded, immediately took a folder from the table, and opened it to a page. "You mean the guy who defeated you? Is there any traceable information about him?"

Lynn took a deep breath and nodded: "His name is Alan. He is strong, incredibly powerful, and moves extremely fast, almost like some kind of experimental subject. He has no identification, and all relevant information is very difficult to find."

“Understood.” Mark frowned slightly; he knew that individuals without registered identities could be very troublesome. “You need us to conduct a background check on him, right?”

“That’s right, Mark. Besides background checks, we also need to get as much information about him as possible from his attack on me. We only know that he has abnormal physical strength and regenerative abilities, but his specific identity information is still unknown.” Lynn said in a deep voice, with a hint of urgency in his tone, “I need to find his whereabouts as soon as possible, otherwise it will be too late.”

Mark nodded and quickly operated the computer. "Okay, I'll arrange for an artist to come over now. He can try to draw a portrait of that person based on your memory. After that, I'll input it into the FBI database to see if we can find any relevant information."

Lynn sat down, his expression grave, his hands clasped on the table. He knew he might have fallen into a much larger conspiracy. Alan wasn't just an ordinary street thug; he seemed more like an experimental subject, or a "human weapon" sent out by some unknown organization. If he couldn't uncover Alan's identity soon, his confrontation with him could very well go on indefinitely.

Shortly after, the artist arrived at the office on time. The artist was a senior technician within the FBI, skilled at reconstructing appearances based on eyewitness accounts. Lynn greeted the artist briefly as he entered the room. The artist took out a sheet of paper, placed it on the table, and sat down opposite Lynn.

"Agent Lynn, could you please describe Alan's appearance?" the artist asked, picking up his brush and focusing his gaze.

Lynn's thoughts drifted back to his duel with Alan that night; the images in his mind remained vivid. Alan's strong body, his sharp eyes, and those almost emotionless eyes seemed ready to devour everything at any moment.

He paused for a moment, then began to recall: "He was about 1.85 meters tall, muscular, and muscular. His skin was slightly dark, and his eyes were very sharp, with a certain coldness about them. I remember that night under the lights, he was wearing a black T-shirt and tactical pants. His back was slightly broad, and his hands had obvious muscle lines, especially his big hands. The power he felt when he clenched his fist is something I still can't forget."

The artist began sketching quickly and precisely, his brushstrokes fluid yet firm. As Lynn added each detail, his painting gradually became clearer.

"What are his facial features like?" the artist asked, looking up at Lynn.

Lynn frowned. "His face was quite rugged, with well-defined features, thick eyebrows, and deep-set eyes. He had a straight nose and thin lips, and his whole demeanor looked very resolute, giving off a strong sense of threat. What impressed me most was his eyes, like a bottomless black hole, cold and seemingly seeing through everything."

The painter's brush moved swiftly across the paper, and soon a portrait with clear outlines gradually emerged. Lynn looked at the portrait, a moment of silence settling in his heart. This man with a cold face and sharp eyes was none other than Alan—the enemy he could never forget.

The painter stopped painting and showed Lynn the final work. Lynn carefully examined the portrait and nodded: "That's pretty much him."

“Okay, I’ll input this image into the FBI database and see if I can find any relevant information.” After saying that, the artist quickly scanned the image into the computer.

Lynn's gaze remained fixed on the portrait, his brow furrowed slightly, a sense of unease filling him. Alan's identity remained a mystery, seemingly impossible to trace. Moreover, he suspected Alan was more than just a simple target. Perhaps a far greater conspiracy lay hidden behind it all.

Mark worked quickly on the computer, and a few minutes later, he looked at Lynn with a hint of doubt on his face. "Lynn, the results are in. The database didn't find any existing records matching this portrait, and there are no leads for the name Alan."

Lynn's heart sank, and he took a deep breath. "No clues? That's impossible. How could he be someone with absolutely no record? His background must be very special, perhaps hidden."

Mark frowned, his gaze sweeping over Lynn. "We've done our best to find him, but we haven't been able to find any information about him. What we can be sure of is that he's not a regular criminal; he's probably a member of some special organization."

Lynn's brow furrowed deeply, his unease deepening. Who exactly was Alan? His identity was so secretive that even the FBI's database had no record of him. This indicated that a powerful and hidden force was supporting Alan, and it seemed that things were gradually spiraling out of control. (End of Chapter)