He was more than a little eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and the detention center behind him...

　　“Is someone important coming out today? There are plenty of big shots in Xinhai now, but a decade ago, there were only a handful of people in the whole city who could drive this kind of old Maybach, right?”

　　The driver was a young police officer. He had already noticed the old sedan across the asphalt road, and only now had the chance to ask with a sigh.

　　The middle-aged officer seemed to recall something, his brow furrowing even tighter as he glanced at the boy’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

　　As if realizing the people in the police car were paying attention, the Maybach started up at that moment, driving away from the boy in the opposite direction, heading off into the distance along the asphalt road. It seemed it had only stopped in front of the detention center for a moment, delayed by something unexpected...

Chapter One: Tribe

　　“Brother! Dad killed someone for Aunt Chen and was taken away by the police. The family of the person who was killed came to our house, smashed everything, and said they’d come smash it every day, that our family would never have peace again—Brother, please come back, what are we supposed to do?”

　　“Xiaoying, it’s okay, I’ll be back soon. That family is full of scum, I won’t let them get away with it again. Don’t cry, take care of Grandma.”

　　“Go to hell!”

　　The knife stabbed out, blood splattering.

　　“Edward Baker, you committed premeditated murder with a knife. Do you realize how serious this crime is? Didn’t you think about the consequences when you picked up the knife?”

　　“My dad committed a crime, but he just didn’t want to see Ms. Chen being harassed and blackmailed over and over again, and killed someone by accident. But when others broke into my house, smashing things and hitting people, do I not even have the right to stop them? They kicked down my door, shouted they were going to kill me and my sister, rushed in and grabbed a stool to smash us. I still have scars from being hit. I was scared, my mind went blank, I grabbed a fruit knife and stabbed out. How could I have thought about the consequences? Officer, in that situation, would you have time to think about the consequences? I don’t know how that person is now, but since it was my hand holding the knife, you can judge me however you want.”

　　“Slap! Still making excuses? If it wasn’t premeditated, if you were just flailing wildly, how did you manage to avoid hitting any vital spots with all twelve stabs? William Sullivan came to your house to vent his anger over his brother’s death. We’ve investigated—he smashed a lot of things, but didn’t hurt anyone. You know in your heart that when he came again, he wasn’t going to threaten your lives...”

　　“William Sullivan came to my house and smashed things, and you say he was just venting, just coming again; you’re sure he wouldn’t commit violence, but you’re also sure that me holding a knife was premeditated murder. You’re so sure about everything—I have nothing more to say. However you want to write the statement, just tell me, I’ll write it.”

　　“You... slap!”

　　Scenes from three years ago—hurting someone, standing trial—replayed in nightmares, as if millions of tons of seawater were pressing down on Edward Baker, making it impossible for him to breathe.

　　The next moment, he woke up violently, as if surfacing from the brink of drowning.

　　“So much pain! It hurts! Hurts...”

　　Edward Baker felt as if someone was shoving an iron rod into the back of his head and stirring it desperately, as if his whole skull was about to split apart, his consciousness teetering between chaos, collapse, and passing out again. The dream, like a memory of the past, shattered at that moment.

　　After a long time, Edward Baker felt as if he had died from the pain several times before finally recovering.

　　The pain receded like the tide, and the feeling of surviving death made him feel like a drowning swimmer finally breaking the surface and gasping his first breath of fresh air.

　　Even opening his eyelids felt like a struggle.

　　Above him was a conical thatched roof, the four walls made of wooden planks, somewhat old, the corners of the planks badly eroded by rain and insects. Bright sunlight streamed in through finger-width cracks.

　　There wasn’t a single decent piece of furniture in the hut. In the dirt floor in front of the bed, a small fire pit had been dug, with three charred black stones around it, supporting an iron pot.

　　He was lying on a wooden bed, cushioned with a soft grass mat.

　　“Creak”—the wooden door, which looked like it could be pushed over with a little effort, was pushed open from outside. Light flooded in, then was immediately blocked by a burly figure, plunging the room back into shadow.

　　“Bang—ah!” The big guy ignored his own height; even when he ducked his head, he still banged solidly into the doorframe.

　　At that moment, Edward Baker even suspected the whole thatched hut would collapse from this burly, tower-like man crashing into it.

　　“Mr. Baker, you’re really awake?!” The big guy saw Edward Baker struggling to sit up and called out in surprise.

　　“Walter Baker? I didn’t fucking transmigrate?”

　　This familiar setup, and it wasn’t transmigration?

　　Not even rebirth?

　　Even if he could go back three years and stop that scumbag—already in his forties—from killing for another man’s woman, that would be something.

　　“What, transmigrate?” The big guy hadn’t read any of those web novels that had become popular in China in the past two years, and looked at Edward Baker with a head full of question marks.

　　Edward Baker was still very weak, even speaking was an effort.

　　Edward Baker saw the local black driver Walter Baker hired by the branch office in Degulamo, confirming that he should still be in the primeval jungle at the border of Kanem and Benin; looking at the simple hut, it should be the Iboku tribal village where they had stayed when entering the jungle.