Yan Miao was missing.
Mo Qin had gone looking for Yan Miao twice but hadn’t found him.
At first, he thought Yan Miao was deliberately avoiding him.
It wasn’t until the third time, when he still couldn’t find him, that Mo Qin sensed something was wrong.
He asked Yan Miao’s dorm mates, and they all said Yan Miao hadn’t been around for two days, assuming he had gone home.
But Yan Miao didn’t have a home.
He lived alone in an old house on the outskirts of the city and rarely went back unless absolutely necessary.
This was something Mo Qin had discovered by chance—how frugal Yan Miao’s lifestyle was—and thought maybe his family treated him badly, which is why he sent someone to investigate.
Even Bai Maomao didn’t know.
Yan Miao never spoke about his background to anyone.
Mo Qin messaged Bai Maomao, asking them to help look for Yan Miao at school, while he himself headed to Yan Miao’s home in the suburbs.
The chance that Yan Miao went back alone was slim, but that one in ten thousand chance was one Mo Qin wasn’t willing to give up.
Yan Miao’s house was in the suburbs, an area undergoing demolition.
The old, dilapidated buildings were marked with glaring red “demolition” characters.
The crisscrossing roads were littered with garbage, and the roadside ditches emitted a foul smell.
Despite all this, many people still lived there.
Yan Miao’s home was in one of these buildings.
Mo Qin found it hard to imagine Yan Miao living in such a place.
The report from his subordinates had only mentioned an old house in the suburbs.
If he had asked more questions or come to see for himself earlier, maybe Yan Miao would have suffered less.
The area was unplanned and poorly managed.
Buildings looked almost identical, and none even had doorplates.
Under the suspicious gazes of the original residents, Mo Qin knocked door to door until he found Yan Miao’s place.
Yan Miao lived on the seventh floor.
The narrow stairwell was dimly lit.
Several iron doors were tightly closed, silent without any movement.
Mo Qin tried knocking but got no response.
Standing at the door, he hesitated, then cleared his throat nervously and performed a small Law Technique to unlock the door.
The main door opened directly into the living room.
The room was dark, filled with a damp, musty smell.
Mo Qin fumbled for the light switch and when the bright light hit his eyes, he blinked a few times.
Yan Miao’s home, like him, was spotless.
The living room was small, just enough to fit a sofa and a small table.
Mo Qin, towering over 1.8 meters, looked out of place in the cramped space.
Though small, the apartment was clearly well cared for by Yan Miao.
The sofa cover was patchworked in soft colors and looked comfortable.
There were a few books on the table.
Mo Qin picked up the top one and flipped through a few pages—it was full of dense English words.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance and put it down.
After circling the living room, Mo Qin couldn’t resist and, feeling like a thief, opened the bedroom door.
The bedroom was even simpler—only a bed and a wardrobe, nothing else.
Yan Miao’s life was even more frugal than Mo Qin had imagined.
His heart ached, but even more so was the regret for not having met Yan Miao sooner and not treating him better.
Yan Miao wasn’t here now.
Mo Qin was anxious to find him and didn’t stay long before preparing to leave.
As he locked the door, he ran into an old neighbor taking out the trash.
The old man glanced at him like he was a thief but said nothing.
Mo Qin felt awkward under his gaze, scratched his nose, and greeted, “Sir, I’m a classmate of Yan Miao’s. I just came by to help him pick up some things.”
Hearing this, the old man’s expression softened considerably.
“You’re little Yan’s classmate, huh? Is he doing well now? That kid’s been an orphan since birth. It’s not easy for him to grow up and get into university. I don’t even know how he’s doing these days.”
Mo Qin forced a smile.
“He’s doing fine. Good grades, well-liked by teachers and classmates.”
“That’s good, that’s good,” the old man nodded with a smile.
“This kid’s bitterness is finally turning sweet. This place…who knows if he’ll still come back.”
“He will definitely come back,” Mo Qin said.
The old man shook his head with a smile, carrying his bag of trash down the stairs and waving his hand behind him, “This place? If you can avoid coming back, don’t come back.”
Mo Qin knew that after returning to school, his heart would still feel heavy.
He wondered if Bai Maomao and the others had found any leads.
He hurried back to the dorm, only to find both Bai Maomao and Lang Junxian looking grim.
Mo Qin’s heart sank.
“What’s wrong? Why the long faces? Have you found him?”
Lang Junxian patted his shoulder and handed over a phone.
“You…take a look.”
Mo Qin silently took the phone.
The message was sent from Yan Miao’s WeChat account—a short video.
In the video, Yan Miao was tied up, hands and feet bound, face down on the ground.
Mo Qin instinctively clenched the phone tightly.
Below the video was a voice message with a distorted, sharp tone: “Tomorrow night at ten, Xiaoxingxing Food Factory in Beijiao. If you don’t come, prepare to collect his corpse.”
“Tomorrow night I’ll go. You wait for news.”
Mo Qin’s face turned cold; the faint smile vanished, replaced by deadly seriousness.
“Let’s go together,” Lang Junxian frowned, disagreeing.
“This is obviously a trap using Yan Miao as bait. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”
Bai Maomao was even more agitated.
“What good does it do if you go alone? How many can you fight off by yourself?”
Mo Qin clenched his teeth, paused briefly, but still agreed, “Fine. I’ll contact some people first.”
The three began preparing separately.
Mo Qin paced anxiously in his room, fingers pale from clenching, before seeming to make up his mind and dialing a number.
The wait for an answer stretched unbearably long, and Mo Qin nervously paced the balcony.
“Ah Qin?” a stern male voice answered, “You finally came to your senses?”
Mo Qin hesitated before replying, “I’ve thought it through. But on one condition—you have to help me rescue someone.”
“Oh?”
The man’s mood seemed good.
“Go on.”
“One of…my classmates,” Mo Qin paused, “was kidnapped. I suspect the Gong Family is behind it. The Gong Family is allied with the Lang Family. If you can get the Lang Family to intervene and rescue him, I’ll come back at the end of the semester.”
The man on the phone showed little interest in who was being rescued but stated his terms: “Getting the Lang Family involved is easy, but once the person’s rescued, you must return to Shangjing immediately.”
“Agreed.”
Early the next morning, the three set out for Beijiao.
The Xiaoxingxing Food Factory mentioned on WeChat was an abandoned factory.
In the past two years, Guangshi Shi had been redeveloping, relocating most factories to industrial parks, leaving the Beijiao area to gradually fall into ruin.
Many illicit deals preferred to take place here.
There was no one inside the factory.
Lang Junxian scoped the area and sniffed the air.
“No one’s here.”
Just as expected.
The three thoroughly scouted the terrain, found a concealed spot to hide, and quietly waited for the appointed time.
Yan Miao was woken by the cold.
The night temperature was still low for the season.
His hands and feet were bound, and he lay on the ground.
The chilling cold seeped through his clothes, making him shiver uncontrollably.
Aware of his situation, Yan Miao pretended to be asleep—occasionally opening one eye a crack to assess his surroundings.
He was lying deep inside the room, with two guards stationed at the door.
An idea struck him, and he secretly formed a Shoufa behind his back.
The ropes snapped easily.
The two guards outside the door remained unaware.
Yan Miao silently gathered his strength, preparing to break the window and escape at the right moment…
“What are you doing?”
A sharp shout stopped him.
Yan Miao froze, withdrew his hand, closed his eyes, and lay quietly.
The two guards at the door stood respectfully, like quails, not daring to make a sound.
Footsteps approached, growing louder and closer.
“Since you’re awake, stop pretending.”
Yan Miao’s fingers behind his back trembled as he forced himself to stay calm and still.
The man sneered and kicked him with his toe without checking if he was truly awake.
“I heard you’re Mo Qin’s…lover?”
Yan Miao said nothing.
His trembling fingers intensified.
“If I let someone have their way with you, would Mo Qin be furious?”
The man continued.
“Or how about trading your life for Mo Qin’s Cultivation? Which matters more, his cultivation or your life?”
The more Yan Miao heard, the colder his heart became.
It was obvious—they had captured him to threaten Mo Qin.
He couldn’t let them succeed.
Thinking of Mo Qin steadied Yan Miao’s resolve.
He gathered all his strength, suddenly sprang up, and jabbed at the man’s eyes.
Gong Shaotian nimbly dodged to the side, but without cultivation, his movements weren’t as quick as before.
Though he avoided the strike, Yan Miao’s nails left a deep bloody scratch across his face.
“Disable him!”
Gong Shaotian roared in fury.
Yan Miao’s strike failed.
He turned and ran toward the window, trying to break it forcibly.
Unfortunately, before he could shatter the glass, a powerful oppressive aura spread throughout the room, pinning him in place.
The pressure intensified, and with Yan Miao’s limited Cultivation, he was soon forced to crawl on the ground, unable to move.
Gong Shaotian covered his bleeding face, glaring viciously.
He ground his toes against Yan Miao’s fingers.
“None of you are leaving today.”