I Am Unstoppable

Chapter 73

Chapter 73 Despairing Night

Jonathan’s heart sank deeper and deeper. He knew that death was not the scariest thing in the world, especially for a girl. Numerous unbearable tragedies that were much worse than death could happen to a girl.

Gabriel continued, “Moreover, you’re the Chosen One. The Chosen Ones may die, but they can never bring upon themselves their own demises. Because there will always be hope until the last moment, no?”

“I think you’re overly confident with yourself,” Jonathan replied coldly. “Why would I care about anything when I’m dead? My soul and my consciousness will vanish from the world, and not the tiniest vestige will remain. So why would I care about Amber if that’s the case?”

“So you won’t compromise?” Gabriel lifted the corners of his lips.

“Not in a million years!” cursed Jonathan.

“You do realize contempt for God is a grievous sin. You’ve disrespected me with your insolence, which weighs equal sin as disrespecting God. I shall therefore punish you so that you will learn your lesson.” Gabriel’s voice was bland and cool as he spoke.

Jonathan’s eyes bulged with anger and he sneered. He could hardly believe his ears when Gabriel had the audacity to equate himself with divinity. His first impulse was to open his mouth and spat all profanities at Gabriel, but he forced himself to remain silent and swallowed all the swear words back in.

Stay calm, Jonathan. Wait for the perfect opportunity to retaliate. He reminded himself internally. I’m in their territory now. I’ll only bring myself more trouble if I provoke them further.

Meanwhile, Gabriel turned to Zachary who was standing behind him. “Give him ten slaps,” he instructed.

Zachary nodded and marched toward Jonathan.

Jonathan, having never been subjected to such humiliation, felt his heart pounding against his chest. Zachary, cold as he was, slapped Jonathan ten times across the cheeks without hesitation.

His strikes were forceful, yet measured at the same time, which sent Jonathan’s head spinning, and his cheeks bleeding and swelling.

By the time Zachary was done, Jonathan coughed up a gob of blood with ten teeth to the ground.

Without a word, Zachary retreated to Gabriel’s back, while the latter stared at Jonathan.

Jonathan returned his stare with a bloodshot glare and pursed his lips. He certainly would not execrate Gabriel as it would not do him any good in any way; although it was, without question, the biggest humiliation he had suffered in his entire life.

“I’ll kill you! I swear it!” Jonathan clenched his teeth, the bone-chilling bitterness apparent in his voice.

Gabriel merely gazed at him flatly. They remained like that for a while when suddenly, Gabriel burst into laughter. He subsequently collected himself and said, “I know you hate me so much you wish you could tear me into a million pieces, Chosen One. The sad truth is, I will seize your spirit and kill you right here in this place. Nobody can save you here, and you can’t defend yourself either, since you are severely wounded.” He paused and rose to his feet. “We still have sixteen hours left until midnight. Enjoy your last moments in life. Once your spirit is stripped, you will find only an insufferable life waiting ahead even if you survive.” Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

As soon as he finished, Gabriel turned and left with Zachary.

The door of the alchemy room closed shut and darkness began to seep in.

Feeling numbness in his jaw, Jonathan collapsed to the ground resignedly, his cheeks still burning with pain.

He had suffered serious internal injuries, which slowed his spirit’s flow, hindering him from speeding up his wounds’ healing.

He wanted to scream badly and unleash all his force to shatter everything, but he couldn’t. He understood that as soon as he tried activating his spirit, his wounds would immediately reopen and bleed profusely. A sense of helplessness washed over him as he realized the futility of his billowing hatred against the cruelty of reality.

Miracle… Will there be a miracle for me? he wondered deep down.

Don’t be silly. This is real life. Not a fiction novel. There aren’t many miracles in this world.

Jonathan tightened his fists as he thought on and on, his eyes now blood red with hatred. He stayed in that position for a long time before he became too exhausted and finally loosened his fists.

He couldn’t help but felt the chains of destiny tugging at him as he asked himself if it was really his fate that he should compromise.

Nevertheless, he ditched the idea at once. He was crystal clear it was what Gabriel wanted. The moment he gave in, he would cease to be steadfast. If it happened, his spirit would surely be taken away, which would be the end of him.

All those years, Jonathan had had numerous close calls in the countless perils he faced. It wasn’t because he was powerful enough to escape death; he was simply fortunate enough. Many strong mercenaries whose cultivations were much higher than his had fallen due to stray bullets.

He knew for a fact that, although strength was important for survival in the world, it accounted for merely thirty percent of it, whereas luck made up the significant seventy percent.

Time slipped by quietly. Soon it was five o’clock in the afternoon.

No one had delivered any food or water to him. It was as if the alchemy room’s existence was completely forgotten, which was understandable, considering Gabriel would come to refine Jonathan at midnight.

Since humans wouldn’t die of hunger or thirst from a day without food and water, there was no need to feed him.

Although Jonathan had sustained serious injuries, his healing power was nonetheless much better than the average man. Hence, after nine hours of rest and recovery, he could already rise to his feet and walk slowly. Knowing he still had some luck in store, he was unwilling to be killed so easily. The glimmer of hope motivated him to find a way to save himself.

He first approached the steel door, but it was tightly shut and locked from the outside.

Had he been in tip-top shape, he could have broken the metal lock effortlessly. Alas, he wasn’t capable of the act in his current state. Jonathan, plagued with despair, began to wish he would stumble upon some rejuvenation pills in the alchemy room.

Any miracle would do for him, even though he knew it was purely wishful thinking.

After a fruitless search, puffed and weary, Jonathan was forced to sit down and rest for that weak body of his was like an old hag, unable to take on any further exertion. At that moment, even the Ultra Sun Moon Mantra was useless on him. The mantra’s functions included maintaining good health, purifying the body, and promoting cell growth. But it was unable to promote wound healing.

At the end of the day, martial arts weren’t as magical as novels painted them to be. Besides, Jonathan had absolutely no strength to heal his injuries. His relatively good health was the only reason he could make a speedy semi-recovery.

The night was falling, and it was eight o’clock before long.

The moon shone through the tiny window into the room, and Jonathan’s train of thought became messier and messier as his impending doom drew closer. Death itself was not scary. It was the waiting part that was frightening. His mind drifted to Amber and was instantly overcome with guilt.

Their current situation was totally an uncalled-for disaster that she did not deserve. If it weren’t for him dragging her into the plight, she could still be the same happy police officer in Horrington.

He earnestly hoped that Amber would not be harmed. Despite the fact that Gabriel, Drake, and Zachary were undoubtedly villainous, they were not dishonorable reprobates.

His head swirled with various thoughts. Finding his circumstance equally unwarranted and disastrous, he cursed spitefully in his mind.

What do the conflicts between Gabriel, Felicia, and Master Yarrow have to do with me? What’s wrong with me getting involved in this mess? I could have enjoyed my life in Horrington if I didn’t end up in this place. I could even peep at Jen showering every day!

His pondering came to a halt as something suddenly registered in him.

Could it be the mysterious Thread of Fate that Felicia had mentioned? Had it secretly pulled me here? Is my life supposed to end here then?

Trapping in a dead-end after much contemplation, Jonathan found his gaze wandering to the alchemy furnace adorned with dragon carvings.

He was curious to learn the kinds of pills that the alchemy furnace could refine.

He was aware of the various made-up pill refinement techniques stated in countless fiction novels. Not only that, the practices were well-documented in ancient times as services for emperors. However, those refined pills were frauds that contained mercury, lead, and various poisonous ingredients. Emperors who consumed them passed away much faster as a result.

Nevertheless, the Crimson Onyx Sect was a real sect with numerous masters who were experts in numerology, geomancy, as well as magnetic flux. There was no way they would refine fake pills. What types of pills are they refining? Jonathan struggled to arrive at an answer no matter how he cracked his head.

Just then, a series of footsteps broke the silence.

It was Zachary.

What is he doing here? wondered Jonathan as he sat down in a corner.

The giant steel door was hauled open and the moon’s silver gleam came pouring in.

Covering in black from head to toe, Zachary’s handsome face exuded an air of cold indifference.

Infuriated by the coldness in his eyes, Jonathan glared at the man who had slapped him. Although Zachary was merely obeying Gabriel’s order, his strikes were nonetheless too heavy and ruthless. Jonathan would kill him in an instant if an opportunity came by, but circumstances didn’t allow for that to occur.

Zachary dragged a chair nearby and sat down before Jonathan, looking down at him from high above.

“Why are you here?” asked Jonathan.

“I’d like to find out the differences between the Chosen Ones and the average men,” Zachary replied flatly.

Jonathan lifted a brow. “Have you found out then?”

“Well, I am rather disappointed. You are exactly the same as ordinary folks when you are facing death,” answered Zachary coldly.

Jonathan lowered his eyes with flagged interest in response. “You may leave if you have nothing else to say.”

“You despise me, don’t you?” Anger flashed through Zachary’s eyes.

“You may have a cold façade, but I really have to comment on your sensitivity. Why is it so? Because you’re a traitor, am I right? You committed treason against your own country, and yet you expected me to think highly of you?” Jonathan took a glance at him.

Provoked, Zachary’s eyes flared with rage. Without warning, he sent a powerful kick to Jonathan’s neck.

As a consequence, Jonathan hit the ground with a heavy thud. Streaks of blood appeared on his face from the impact of the fall. Zachary stomped his foot on Jonathan’s neck and sneered frostily. “Bastard, how dare you mock me?”

Jonathan coughed up a mouthful of blood. He clenched his fists and immediately loosened them, feeling utterly chagrinned. Hate flooded his senses, but the helpless despair was the thing that tormented and paralyzed him because he knew he could not turn the tables.

Death did not terrify him, but hopelessness did.

Zachary eventually drew back his leg, and Jonathan supported himself on both arms to resume his sitting position.

“Aren’t you sharp-tongued? What’s the matter? Have you lost your tongue now?” Zachary smirked. “I thought you wanted to kill me? Are you feeling helpless now?”

Jonathan took a deep breath and shut his eyes.