In the early hours of the morning, the streets of Chicago stretched into the distance through the night like glowing blood vessels.
Bruce parked the car beneath Ivanka’s apartment building.
Just as he was about to get out, his phone screen lit up, and a new text message caught his eye: “I am waiting for you.”
Bruce smiled, put his phone away, quickly got out, locked the car, and walked briskly toward the apartment building.
The elevator rose slowly.
The mirrored walls reflected his weary face: dark shadows beneath his eyes, fresh stubble on his chin, and shoulders hunched slightly forward, as if bearing an invisible weight.
Ivanka’s apartment door was left ajar.
Bruce pushed it open and entered.
Only a floor lamp was on in the living room, casting a warm halo of soft light onto the wooden floor.
The air was filled with the scent of lavender essential oil and the aroma of hot chocolate.
“Bruce, I’m in the kitchen,” Ivanka’s voice came from the corner of the kitchen.
Bruce set down his coat and gear and walked into the kitchen.
Ivanka was wearing a silk bathrobe, standing in front of the stove stirring a small pot.
She didn’t turn around, just tilted her head slightly, gazing tenderly at the exhausted Bruce.
“Hot chocolate, with a splash of brandy.
It helps soothe the nerves.”
“Wow, how did you know I needed this?” Bruce stepped forward slowly, wrapping his arms around her soft waist and burying his face in her lavender-scented hair.
“I am your personal Psychologist, after all,” Ivanka finally turned around, her eyes looking exceptionally soft in the lamplight.
“You did what had to be done, my hero.”
Bruce sat on a bar stool by the kitchen island, watching as Ivanka poured the hot chocolate into a mug.
Her movements were elegant and precise, every gesture revealing the professional demeanor of a Psychologist.
“Thank you.” Bruce took the mug, the warmth transferring through the ceramic to his palms.
Ivanka sat across from him, holding another cup of chocolate in both hands, but she didn’t drink, just looked at him.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s nothing, Ivanka,” Bruce said honestly.
“Just someone threatening Hank’s son and wanting to kill him, so I just opened fire to save him.”
“Okay,” Ivanka nodded slightly, not pressing further.
“I have always believed in you.”
They sat in silence, with only the distant hum of the city and the occasional siren breaking the quiet.
Bruce sipped the hot chocolate, feeling the warm current of mixed sweetness and alcohol travel from his throat to his stomach, then spread to his limbs.
Bruce finished the last of the chocolate, feeling a slight lightheadedness from the alcohol.
“I’m going to take a shower.
It’s getting late.”
“Go ahead.
There are clean towels in the bathroom, and I’ve already run the hot water.
Have a good soak.”
Bruce walked into the bathroom and let the hot water soak his entire body.
He closed his eyes and suddenly remembered he still had two treasure chests he hadn’t opened.
One [bronze treasure chest] obtained from cracking the serial rape case, and one newly obtained [black iron treasure chest].
Bruce opened his eyes and brought up the system interface.
“Open bronze treasure chest”
“Obtained: Special Item · Spatial Anchor Device.
Can fix up to 10 cubic meters of space and carry it with you.
Time within the space is relatively static; can store inanimate objects.
Requires setting an anchor point for the space, which cannot be changed once set.”
What?
Bruce sat up straight, dried his hands, and stared at the system text floating in the air.
Spatial Anchor Device?
10 cubic meters of personal storage space?
“Use immediately?”
Bruce didn’t hesitate; only a fool would hesitate.
“Use.”
“Please select an anchor point to fix the space for ease of use.”
Bruce looked around at himself and finally chose to use his right hand as the anchor point.
“Locking space…”
“Fixed: 10 cubic meter storage space”
“Access method: Items inside the space can be retrieved by thought; touching an item can store it in the space.”
Bruce stared at the storage cabinet in the bathroom, stood up, reached out, focused his attention, and imagined “storing” the cabinet.
In the next instant, the storage cabinet vanished.
It didn’t fade away; it simply disappeared instantly, as if it had never existed.
The corner was now empty, with only the indentations left on the floor proving that something had once been there.
Bruce’s heart rate accelerated.
He focused his mind again and imagined the cabinet reappearing in its original spot.
The cabinet returned, appearing precisely in its original position.
The scratches on the door, the dust in the corners—everything was exactly the same as before it disappeared.
“Cool,” Bruce whispered.
He tried a few more times, storing towels, soap, and toothbrushes into the space and taking them back out, having the time of his life.
This was a game-changing ability.
In police work, evidence protection, carrying gear…
the possibilities were endless.
His luck seemed good today.
Bruce looked at the remaining black iron treasure chest and chose to open it with his mind.
“Opening black iron treasure chest…”
“Obtained: Primary Talent · Super Smell (LV1).
Can freely control olfactory sensitivity, boosting it up to 10 times that of a normal human.
Can distinguish over 3,000 different scents, track the source of scents, and memorize scent profiles.”
Another extraordinary ability?
Bruce took a deep breath and tried to activate the talent.
In an instant, the world changed.
The bathroom, which originally only had the faint scent of soap and shampoo, now became a symphony of smells.
The lingering chemical smell of cleaner on the tiles, the musty odor from deep in the drain, the metallic ion scent in the water pipes—he could even smell the city scents drifting in from outside the window.
It was a combination of car exhaust, cooking fumes from restaurants, ozone from evaporated rainwater, and so on.
He also smelled Ivanka: lavender essential oil, her specific brand of shampoo, the natural scent of her skin, a hint of chocolate and brandy, and the unique hormonal scent of a woman—warm and alluring.
Bruce was almost overwhelmed by the flood of information.
He quickly turned down the sensitivity to a normal level and then slowly adapted.
Suddenly, the system’s notification sound rang out again.
“Ding, compatible skill detected: Hearing Positioning (LV2).
Attempt skill fusion?
Fusion success rate: 75%.
Fusion failure may result in downgrading of talent and skill.”
Fusion?
Super Smell combined with Hearing Positioning?
The success rate was high, and besides, it was only a primary talent and a level 2 skill; how much could it really downgrade?
“Fuse.”
“Ding, talent fusion in progress…
Fusion successful!”
“Obtained: Extraordinary Skill · Life Radar (LV1).
Centered on oneself, within a 50-meter radius, can perceive the location, size, basic form, moving speed, and direction of all living organisms.
Bruce closed his eyes, and the new way of perception flooded his consciousness.
At first, it was a chaotic “signal”: the life signs of insects and mice in the building, people sleeping in the apartment downstairs, pedestrians and vehicles occasionally passing on the street.
But soon, his brain learned to filter and interpret.
He could “see” the layout of the apartment, not with his eyes, but with perception.
Ivanka’s life signal in the living room was warm and stable: heart rate 68 beats per minute, breathing even.
A cockroach was crawling in the kitchen sink, and a cat was sleeping on the windowsill in the next apartment.
Further away, the crowd gathered in the bar across the street looked like clusters of warm points of light.
A patrol car drove by, with two human-shaped signals inside.
Isn’t this just a Life Radar?
It’s truly incredible, just like a bat’s senses.
What’s even better than a bat is that his Life Radar can also distinguish scents, which might be related to the Super Smell he had before the fusion.
Bruce tried to focus.
He concentrated his attention toward the direction outside the bathroom door, his perception passing through the walls to lock onto Ivanka.
Ivanka was moving in the living room, walking toward the bathroom.
Then she stopped and began to undress; Bruce could perceive the friction and removal of her clothing.
She walked into the outer room of the bathroom, turned on the shower, and hot water washed over her body.
The sound of water came, but Bruce didn’t need to listen; he could perceive the water hitting her body, the steam rising, her heart rate slightly quickening, and her blood circulation accelerating.
The Life Radar didn’t provide visual images; it was more like a combination of thermal imaging and 3D data.
Thus, he could still distinguish Ivanka’s outline: her slender limbs, slim waist, full breasts, and the path of water droplets sliding down her skin.
The potential of this new ability shocked Bruce.
As a police officer, this meant he could know how many people were inside a building, their locations, whether they were carrying weapons, and even judge whether they were nervous, relaxed, or preparing to attack by their heartbeats and breathing.
In tactical operations, this was an invaluable ability.
Suddenly, the curtain blocking his view was pulled open.
Ivanka, naked and steaming, stepped directly into the bathtub.
Her smooth, white body pressed tightly against him, making Bruce, who had his eyes closed, shiver.
When Ivanka’s warm body pressed against him, Bruce almost instinctively wanted to cut off the Life Radar’s perception.
But before he could react, Ivanka had already slipped into the hot water, her arms wrapping around his neck.
“What are you thinking about, so intently?” Ivanka asked softly, her lips close to his ear.
Bruce opened his eyes and deactivated the Life Radar.
Now, relying only on his normal senses, he could feel the comfort of the hot water enveloping his body, the smooth touch of Ivanka’s skin, the scent of her shampoo, and the warmth radiating from her body.
“Nothing much, just resting my eyes,” Bruce chose to withhold the truth.
It wasn’t about trust; it just wasn’t necessary to say.
Ivanka didn’t speak, just leaned forward, replacing her question with a kiss.
The kiss started gently, with a hint of exploration, but quickly became passionate and urgent, as if long-suppressed emotions had finally found an outlet.
Bruce could taste the lingering sweetness of the chocolate and the faint tipsiness of the brandy on her lips; he could feel the trembling of her body—it was a release of emotion.
The hot water rippled between them, waves spreading out in circles, lapping against the edge of the bathtub.
Steam condensed into mist on the bathroom mirror, blurring their reflections as if isolating the world outside this small space.
“Bruce…” Ivanka gasped his name, her fingers running through his wet hair.
Bruce responded to her call, his palms sliding down her smooth back, feeling the tense muscle lines beneath her skin.
He lifted her up, hot water cascading off them and splashing onto the floor.
Ivanka gave a soft cry of surprise, then laughed, her laughter filled with a long-lost sense of ease and release.
Bruce carried her out of the bathroom, water droplets rolling off their skin, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind them.
In the bedroom, there was only the faint light of the bedside lamp.
He laid her gently on the bed and stood by the bedside.
In this moment, the most primal imagery assaulted his five senses.
In his sight, her fair body lying on the dark sheets; the scent of her skin mixed with body wash lingering in his nose; the sound of her soft breathing in his ears; the temperature and softness of her body at his fingertips; the lingering sweetness of the liquid still on his lips…
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”