Chapter 255

Peng Ling knew Xie Wendong’s identity, and Xie Wendong also knew she did. Of course, he would not take the initiative to open the skylight—it was a forbidden area between them. He smiled bitterly and sighed, “People are still just people; no matter how smart they are, they will face difficulties. When someone helps you in trouble, you must repay them—that’s the way of being human. I owe someone a favor, and no matter what it takes, I must repay it completely.” Peng Ling knew who he meant. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke in a dry, hoarse voice, “What about me?”
Xie Wendong was shocked. He wrapped his arms around her slender yet strong waist and said without hesitation, “You are the person I love the most in my life!”
Peng Ling said nothing more, but Xie Wendong’s hands were wet from her tears. He tightened his embrace as if trying to pull Peng Ling into his body and melt her heart as well. He leaned in and kissed her slightly parted lips, which were open just for him. Peng Ling was unwilling to let go so easily of Xie Wendong and struggled violently, but soon her resistance melted away in his passionate kisses. Women are made of water—someone once said such a classic phrase. Even if they are as hard as ice, they will melt under the heat of passion. Although Xie Wendong wasn’t exactly “heat,” Peng Ling certainly wasn’t an iceberg to him either.

Peng Ling was asleep in Xie Wendong’s arms, tears still hanging from her eyelashes like tiny fans. He moved gently, slowly pulling his arm out from under her head, placing the pillow behind her, and smoothing her slightly messy hair. With a sigh, he sat up in bed. He slowly moved his numb arms, though his heart felt sweet. Yet his worries didn’t vanish just because Peng Ling was calm; he still hadn’t found a solution. Could Peng Ling accept Jin Rong? Or could Jin Rong accept Peng Ling? Moreover, he still didn’t understand his own feelings toward Jin Rong, nor those for Xiao Yu and Xiao Mei… Xie Wendong muttered an insult under his breath and walked over to the balcony. Opening the window, the cold air helped clear his mind. Since he couldn’t figure things out, he decided not to think about them. There would always be a way forward. Xie Wendong smiled bitterly, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and slowly savored it. A rare sense of relief washed over him, easing his exhausted nerves. He had never admitted to being tired to anyone, but in truth, the pressure he bore far exceeded his age. The fate of two gangs and the lives of countless people rested in his hands. One mistake could cost many lives, and many brothers might end up wandering the world. He had considered these things, but Xie Wendong was a man of principles. Once he chose a path, he would stick to it—yet when it came to women, he took multiple paths.

As Xie Wendong smoked, he casually glanced at a dark corner downstairs across from him and saw another person there, also smoking. If it weren’t for the sudden flicker of the crimson cigarette tip, he might not have noticed the person’s presence. Hidden in the corner and far away, he tried hard to see their face but couldn’t make it out clearly. They seemed not very tall. He was sure this person wasn’t Gao Qiang, and it was highly likely they were after him. He didn’t react, continuing to smoke as usual, afraid of alerting them. Instead, he quietly took out his phone and called Gao Qiang. At that moment, Gao Qiang was idling in his car. It was after 10 p.m., and staying alone in the car made him drowsy. With his hands behind his head and legs propped on the seat, he closed his eyes and listened to the cassette, pretending to sleep. Suddenly, the phone rang. With impatience, he muttered an insult under his breath before slowly opening his eyes. Seeing it was Xie Wendong, he perked up and answered quickly. The voice on the other end was faint, and he could barely hear, “There’s someone downstairs in the north. Capture them.”

With that, the call was hung up. Gao Qiang was stunned for a moment, scratched his head, and turned to look out the window. He couldn’t see clearly who it was, but below the building to the north, a small red dot flickered on and off—clearly someone was smoking. Experienced as he was, after getting out of the car, he didn’t head straight north but instead went in the opposite direction, unfastening his belt as if to go relieve himself. Once he reached a building where no one could see him, he quickened his pace and took a long detour along a path behind the building.

Xie Wendong was right—there indeed was someone hidden below the opposite building. Not very tall, slightly thin, dressed in black, leaning against the wall, it was hard to notice his presence at all. If he hadn’t been smoking, Xie Wendong wouldn’t have seen him. Xie Wendong kept an eye on this person with the corner of his vision, while the other person also stared at him motionless, with wisps of smoke drifting from their mouths from time to time. Gao Qiang moved quickly and silently, reaching behind the person in an instant. He stretched out his hand, and a black combat knife as thick as an iron bar fell out of his sleeve. Then, with a firm grip, he caught the hilt of the falling knife. The blade was a foot and a half long, dark and unremarkable, yet its deadly aura was terrifying. How careless! Gao Qiang stopped when he was five steps away from the person, thinking to himself. At such close range, with the other person facing away, he was confident he could easily end him with one strike. Just as he prepared to capture the person, the other suddenly spoke without turning around, his voice cold and hoarse as if coming from hell: “It’s best not to do what you’re thinking. You’re no match for me, and I don’t want to kill anyone today.”

Gao Qiang doubted his ears or thought the person was speaking to someone else. He quickly scanned the surroundings but was disappointed—his ears were fine, and there was no one else around. Clearly, the person was speaking to him. How was that possible? Gao Qiang couldn’t figure it out, a chill rising in his heart. “You knew I was coming?!” No matter how surprised he was, his voice showed no trace of emotion. The person didn’t turn around or even move. “Of course. I knew you were here to find me as soon as you got out of the car. Besides, the sound of your footsteps was too loud.” The person’s voice was as rough as grinding stone against glass, making one’s heart itch uncomfortably. Gao Qiang frowned, not because of the voice but because of what was said. He smiled coldly and asked, “Friend, who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. Anyway, I’m not your friend.” The man slowly turned around, revealing a face devoid of emotion. He seemed to be in his early thirties, with a sharply defined face as pale as paper, his features as if painted on it—his entire face flat. Gao Qiang was brave, but upon seeing the man’s face, he shuddered and almost screamed: “A ghost!” He thought to himself, “Damn, this guy is really… He couldn’t think of a suitable word to describe him. Calling him ugly wouldn’t be fair—each of his features was actually quite good. Perhaps fate played a trick; those otherwise fine features, when placed on his face, gave off an indescribable sense of discomfort.” Gao Qiang sighed and asked, “Friend, then what brings you here?” The man replied in a deep voice, “I’m here to find Xie Wendong.” “Is there something wrong?” “Yes!” “What is it?” “You’re not worthy of knowing. Get Xie Wendong down!” Gao Qiang chuckled, though it was more of an unnatural twitch at the corners of his mouth. He lowered his head, gently gripping the blade, and said, “Since we’re not friends, you’ll have to ask whether the knife in my hand agrees.” Before his words faded, the black battle sword swept forward in a blur, aiming straight at the man’s chest—no wasted moves, pure and swift as light, faster than lightning. In the blink of an eye, the blade was already close to the man’s chest.

Unfortunately, it only came close. When the blade touched the man’s clothes, it couldn’t cut any further. Gao Qiang’s sword was fast, but the man’s hand was even faster. The man wore gloves made of some unknown material, black and seemingly extremely flexible. Without seeing how his arm moved, he firmly grasped the blade, the gloves remaining unharmed. Still using that lifeless tone, the man said, “See? Your knife agrees.” “Not necessarily!” Gao Qiang tensed his shoulders and suddenly pulled his wrist upward. Even though the man was skilled, he struggled to hold on and instinctively loosened his grip. As the man relaxed, Gao Qiang didn’t loosen his hold at all. He pushed the blade forward, turning the strike into a thrust aimed at the man’s chest.

The man had no choice but to retreat, stepping back five paces before he could steady himself. The evening breeze blew, causing a chill on his chest. Looking down, he saw a cut about an inch wide in his clothes—barely missing his body. Gao Qiang was shocked. The opponent’s movements were too fast; he hadn’t even seen how the man moved. In just a flash, the man was already five paces away—far beyond what a human could achieve. Though shaken, he didn’t show it on his face. Looking at the cut in the man’s clothes, he said coldly, “It seems you’re not that great after all.”

The man’s pale face turned even whiter, almost transparent. His deadfish-like eyes were fixed on Gao Qiang’s face. His left hand rose slightly, and with movements as slow as they could be, he drew a knife from his waist—a plain blade, essentially an iron strip with a piece of white cloth tied to its end serving as a handle. He raised his hand, keeping the knife arm straight and aiming it at Gao Qiang’s throat. Without saying a word, he stepped forward. From start to finish, his movements were slow, yet the intimidation he exuded was astonishing. For an ordinary person, just that overwhelming presence would be enough to overwhelm them without him even having to act. Gao Qiang had faced countless enemies, but this kind of expert was something he had never encountered before. His heart surged, his blood boiling with intensity. He met the man’s lifeless eyes fearlessly, holding the knife casually in his hand as well as stepping forward. There were only three steps between them, well within striking range.

Neither of them moved, quietly observing each other in search of an opening. Suddenly, the wind picked up, cold and brisk, blowing up the scattered snow on the ground and lifting their clothes. A small snowflake landed in Gao Qiang’s eye. He blinked involuntarily—a fraction of a second of distraction was enough for his opponent. With a swift motion, the man swung his arm like the wind toward Gao Qiang’s throat. Gao Qiang had no chance to dodge; it was too fast, beyond his instinctive reaction. He could even feel the cold blade touching his throat’s skin, then piercing through it. Followed by a soft crack—probably the sound of the blade tip breaking his neckbone.

“Friend, what a fast knife!” a voice came from behind them. Gao Qiang thought he was dead this time, but hearing the voice pulled his soul back from the brink. His body trembled as he murmured, “Brother Dong!” Looking down, he saw that only half of the knife remained in the man’s hand; the other half was embedded in the snow, with blood seeping from his palm. The man remained expressionless, slowly turning to look at the newcomer and calmly said, “What a fast and accurate gun!”

“Your wrist strength is truly admirable.” The man was Xie Wendong, holding a black pistol with a smoke suppressor emitting blue smoke. He was also surprised—the force behind the single shot was immense; although the knife was broken, the handle didn’t slip from his hand, showing an astonishing level of strength. He spoke softly, “My marksmanship isn’t good. Sometimes, I’m just unbelievably lucky. It seems this time is no exception.” Luck? Gao Qiang stared at Xie Wendong in confusion. He knew Xie’s marksmanship wasn’t great, but the scene before him was undeniable—shattering a blade thrust like lightning with a single shot required remarkable vision and skill, something someone without years of training couldn’t achieve. Could it really be luck? Gao Qiang thought, sweating coldly. If Xie Wendong hadn’t been lucky just now, what about himself… He began to feel fear.

“You’re indeed lucky! You must be Xie Wendong, right?” the man asked. Xie Wendong smiled. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you.” “Good!” the man nodded. “Good! I’ll remember this broken knife from today.” With that, he walked away from the complex. Xie Wendong watched his retreating figure and said, “Are you leaving just like that?” “I’ve achieved my goal.” “What goal?” “To meet Xie Wendong.” “Why do you insist on meeting me?” Xie Wendong asked with a smile. “I want to know what kind of person my future enemies will be.” The man stopped, staring at his broken knife and sighing. Xie Wendong also looked at his knife and said, “Do you think you can still get away?”

The man turned around. His deathly pale face finally showed a hint of color. He raised the corner of his mouth and said, “I bet that while you’re shooting through my head, the broken knife in my hand will pierce your throat too.” Xie Wendong wasn’t sure if he was serious, but he wasn’t confident he could blow off his head with another shot. Smiling, he asked, “Who sent you?” The man shook his head and waved his hand. “Anyway, it’s definitely not your friend!” With that, he staggered a few times before disappearing into the darkness.

“Brother Dong, are you really letting him go?” Gao Qiang asked, unwilling to accept it. Xie Wendong smiled bitterly. “Do you really think my marksmanship is that accurate?” Gao Qiang was stunned. “Then… just now…?” Xie Wendong affirmed, “That was luck!” “Haha, how can luck be that accurate?!” Another man stepped forward from behind Xie Wendong. He wasn’t tall but sturdy and strong, holding a gun with a smile on his face. Both Xie Wendong and Gao Qiang were shocked. Turning to look, they laughed—it was Jiang Sen.