Chen Feng had seen all kinds of people by Master Mo’s side—high-ranking officials in Lincheng, assassins who made the underworld tremble, and old foxes who had ruled the underworld for decades.
He’d even caught a distant glimpse of the cult leader who had granted Master Mo his “inheritance.”
Each of those people had their own brand of terror.
Some were terrifying because of their overwhelming power and influence. Some were terrifying because of their ruthless cruelty. Some were terrifying because you could never guess what their next move would be.
But none of them had ever made him feel the way he did today.
The young man before him stood there, his expression still fairly calm.
But Brother Feng felt like he was looking at an iceberg.
Only the tip showed above the surface; beneath it lurked a massive, hidden reef capable of sinking the Titanic.
Lin Xincheng confirmed with him.
“Is this the place?” His voice wasn’t loud. “You brought him here five days ago and sacrificed him to that Evil God?”
It was a question, but his tone was a statement.
Brother Feng trembled like a sieve.
“Yeah…” His voice was as soft as a mosquito’s buzz. “It’s right here…”
Lin Xincheng was silent for a few seconds.
In those few seconds, Brother Feng felt himself grow cold, layer by layer—from his skin to his bones, from his bones to his marrow.
“Now,” Lin Xincheng said, “take me to your turf.”
Brother Feng looked up and met those calm eyes.
—
Meanwhile, inside the Thirteen Open Gang’s headquarters.
A hall decorated with blue ceramic tiles.
Second Leader Yang Ba sat on the sofa, legs spread wide like a general.
He looked down at the girl with wine-red hair sitting across from him, sizing her up like prey that had walked right into his trap.
“They tell me you’re here to discuss a partnership?”
Ruan Mingxi sat opposite him, her expression relaxed, as if she were at a corner café.
“Of course. Just like your men reported.”
“Hmph.” Yang Ba snorted. “What a bunch of idiots, letting a little girl like you fool them.”
“You can verify the authenticity of the Tianjing Stones they brought up,” Ruan Mingxi said, unfazed by his attitude. “I have connections to get these rare ores. All I need is for you to help me move them.”
Yang Ba let out a cold laugh.
“These ores of yours,” he stared into Ruan Mingxi’s eyes, “where did they come from?”
Ruan Mingxi shook her head.
“You’re in this line of work, so you should know the rules better than me, right? Some things are better left unasked.”
Yang Ba’s gaze cut across her like a knife.
“So how do you expect to earn my trust?”
“Wrong.” She raised a finger and wagged it. “The question should be: how do you expect to earn my trust?”
Yang Ba froze.
“Little girl,” he said, anger creeping into his voice, “are you out of your mind? Bargaining with me?”
“You still don’t get it, do you? The ore source is in my hands.
I came here to give the Thirteen Open Gang a chance to cooperate.
If you can’t satisfy me…”
She paused, flashing a harmless smile.
“I’ll just find another partner. Like your rival, the Lianzhu Gang.”
Yang Ba’s expression stiffened.
“You… how dare you!”
“Am I wrong?” Ruan Mingxi cut him off. “I’m still giving you a chance to think it over. Miss this opportunity, and it’s gone…”
Yang Ba narrowed his eyes.
An invisible murderous aura radiated from him; even the lights above seemed to dim.
“You don’t seem to take the Thirteen Open Gang seriously.”
“Not at all.” Ruan Mingxi’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes were already discreetly scanning the sides. “I respect you so much that I came to you first to discuss cooperation.”
She sensed it.
Someone was approaching from behind. The footsteps were light, the kind trained to make no sound.
But she was Ruan Mingxi. Her ears were sharper than a cat’s.
“I’d advise you not to lay a hand on me so easily. If even a single hair on my head is damaged…”
She turned around just in time to lock eyes with the lackey who was about to make a move.
His hand froze mid-air.
“Tomorrow, the Thirteen Open Gang will vanish from this world.”
“Haha…” Yang Ba laughed.
At first it was just the corners of his mouth lifting, then the smile spread across his face like a plague, and finally he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“Hahaha—”
He stood up.
“Little girl, you’ve got some guts!”
Ruan Mingxi looked at him and secretly let out a sigh of relief.
Looks like… she’d managed to bluff him.
She silently gave herself a mental pat on the back.
Now all she had to do was use the cooperation as a pretext, slowly extract information, and then lure out the mastermind behind the Thirteen Open Gang.
But her plan didn’t have time to unfold.
Yang Ba’s hand—a full size larger than an ordinary man’s—lunged at her like a bear’s paw.
“Then I’ll take you down myself!” His voice was arrogant. “Let’s see which faction will destroy the Thirteen Open Gang in one night!”
Ruan Mingxi’s scalp tingled.
Crap.
She’d overdone it.
She’d only meant to bluff him into thinking she had backing he couldn’t touch.
But this Second Master’s brain worked differently from a normal person’s. When he heard “if you touch me, someone will come to destroy you,” his first thought wasn’t “then I’d better not touch her,” but “then I’ll touch her just to see who’s so tough.”
Classic brute logic.
To a brute, a threat isn’t a warning—it’s a challenge.
Ruan Mingxi sidestepped effortlessly, slipping through the gap like a fish escaping a net, barely dodging that massive hand.
Her back slammed into the armrest of the sofa, and she winced in pain.
“Sorry,” she raised both hands in a perfect surrender pose, “I shouldn’t have tried to bluff you. Can we call a truce?”
Yang Ba roared with laughter.
“Didn’t you just say,” he narrowed his eyes into slits, “that if I touched you, the Thirteen Open Gang would be destroyed tomorrow?”
“Hey, when you’re out in the world, you can give yourself any identity you want…”
“I admit I faked being a rich heiress to intimidate you.” She looked up with an innocent smile. “Truce now?”
“Giving up that easily?”
“It’s not giving up… it’s just that I think this approach is better for you.”
Yang Ba stared at her for two seconds.
Then he suddenly waved his hand.
“Take her!” The moment the words left his mouth, the air in the hall ignited.
Seven or eight lackeys rushed at her from different directions. Some pulled out short knives, some swung fists, some spread their arms to pin down the wine-red-haired girl.
Ruan Mingxi didn’t move.
She stood there like a small tree that had suddenly gone still before a storm.
A sigh, so soft it was almost drowned out by the lackeys’ footsteps.
But Yang Ba heard it.
Ruan Mingxi said, “What I didn’t make clear earlier was this—”
She flashed an apologetic smile.
“If you so much as damage a single hair on my head, it won’t be that you’re destroyed tomorrow.”
“You’re all finished right now.”
Yang Ba froze.
That “freeze” lasted only a fraction of a second, but in that fraction of a second, a blurry figure crashed in from the darkness outside the hall.
The air tore with a whoosh. It struck its target.
Yang Ba’s body was sent flying.
He spun a full one and a half rotations in the air like a sandbag hit by a truck and slammed heavily onto the blue ceramic floor.
The impact left him seeing stars.
“Who!” He scrambled to his feet, ready to curse, but then he saw the thing that had hit him.
No, not a thing.
A person.
Brother Feng lay curled on the ground like a dead dog.
Yang Ba’s face instantly turned pale.
“Brother… Brother Feng!”
He was the Second Leader of the Thirteen Open Gang now, sitting in Master Mo’s seat and giving orders. But that was only because Master Mo was away.
Master Mo’s right-hand man, Brother Feng, was the real number two in this gang.
In terms of status, Yang Ba still had to lower his head and call him “Brother” when they met.
And now Brother Feng had been thrown in from outside like garbage?
Who the hell…
“So you see, the chance I gave you earlier was already the best one.”
Yang Ba turned around.
Ruan Mingxi’s face wore a lazy smile.
“Don’t refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit.”
Her gaze passed over Yang Ba’s shoulder and landed on the entrance of the hall.
“Senior Brother~ Senior Brother!”
Her voice went up an octave.
“You’re finally here! I’ve been waiting for you, waiting so long.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed from the entrance.
Steady, unhurried, as if each stride had been measured with a precise instrument.
But Ruan Mingxi’s smile suddenly froze on her face. She felt an aura like a winter wilderness descend.
“Ah-choo!”
She shivered.
No.
Something was wrong.
Right now… Senior Brother’s mood seemed… not good.
Lin Xincheng entered.
He looked the same as usual—the sheath with its iron chain at his waist, his expressionless face.
Ruan Mingxi knew her senior brother.
Even though he rarely smiled, his silence was warm, like a stove that had been burning for a long time.
But now, someone had doused that stove with cold water. Ash and fire churned together, making a hissing, dangerous sound.
What had set him off?
Yang Ba scrambled awkwardly to his feet. The left side of his face was swollen.
“Who are you? Where are the men outside? How did you do your job… how did you let him in?”
He shouted.
No response.
He shouted again.
Still no response.
He started to panic.
There were at least a hundred men stationed outside, with lookouts on twenty-four-hour rotation.
And this guy had walked in without a sound.
Where were those men?
Yang Ba looked up, trembling.
He wanted to say the same thing: can we call a truce?
Lin Xincheng looked at him.
“Where is Master Mo? Take me to him.”
Yang Ba’s lips twitched a few times.
“I… I don’t know either.”
Silence.
“So it’s true. The only way to make you talk is with a bit of pressure.”
Yang Ba’s body collapsed silently.
Lin Xincheng slowly withdrew his hand.
Ruan Mingxi looked at Yang Ba on the floor and carefully spoke: “Senior Brother… what’s wrong?”
He closed his eyes.
The hall was very quiet.
“Nothing.” His voice was so soft that Ruan Mingxi almost missed it.
“I just feel… tired.”
In his memory, a boy’s figure flashed vaguely.
On a spring hillside, he ran toward the tree at the top, his white clothes billowing in the wind like a small sail.
He turned around.
His face was already blurry in memory, but that smile was clear.
“Little Cheng Gege!” His voice came from far, far away, carrying wind and cicada song. “If I win, you have to listen to me!”
Lin Xincheng felt dazed.
“Senior Brother… Senior Brother…”
Ruan Mingxi’s hand waved in front of his face, many times, from slow to fast, from tentative to panicked.
“Senior Brother! Are you okay? Don’t scare me!”
He blinked.
Light flooded back into his vision.
The blue-tiled hall, Yang Ba slumped on the floor, Brother Feng curled into a ball, and Ruan Mingxi’s face full of worry.
He raised a hand and wiped the corner of his eye.
“This is…” He looked down at the tiny wet spot, as if seeing something unfamiliar.
“So it was fog.”
Ruan Mingxi watched his profile.
“There was no fog forecast.”
Lin Xincheng lowered his hand and stared into the darkness at the far end of the hall.
“No, the fog has already come.”
Ruan Mingxi opened her mouth, then finally nodded.
“Yeah, it’s fog.”