Chapter 333

“You can smile now.” As the leader of the Soul Group was shouting frantically, a voice came from behind him—a cold, cruel, emotionless voice.
“Huh?” The leader of the Soul Group shuddered in fright. He couldn’t tell how many people in the hall had not escaped the flashbang attack. Instinctively, he turned his head and saw a pair of narrow, icy eyes, their cold gaze piercing his face like ice needles. “Who are you…?” Those eyes seemed familiar; he thought he had seen them somewhere but couldn’t recall where. “Xie Wendong!” The icy voice spoke again, but those were the last three words he would hear in this world. He saw a smile in those eyes—the ice melted instantly, bright sunlight shone upon the ground. Then, he seemed to see light, or perhaps nothing at all, before slowly collapsing.
Xie Wendong’s arms hung limp, blood dripping from his fingertips—or rather, between his fingers. A small golden knife, not very large or fancy, was clutched between his left index finger and middle finger. It was this unassuming knife that pierced the other man’s throat in an instant, without even causing any pain.
What a fast knife! By now, Ren Changfeng’s vision had returned to normal, and he just witnessed Xie Wendong’s astonishing lightning-fast strike. If not for the blood sticking to his hands, even Ren Changfeng might have thought he was seeing things. Xie Wendong strode to the junction of the hall and the entrance, bent down, then spun like a top before vanishing behind the wall where Ren Changfeng stood. Gunshots rang out one after another from the other side of the wall. He smiled lightly, lifted his hand, and a Tang sword appeared in it—Ren Changfeng’s sword. He handed it to Ren Changfeng and said with a smile, “Stop being distracted. The enemy isn’t completely dealt with yet.” Ren Changfeng looked at the sword in front of him, then at Xie Wendong standing there smiling. After a while, he mechanically took the sword and shook his head, muttering, “Brother Dong always manages to surprise me.” “I hope it’s not just surprises, but miracles too,” Xie Wendong said with a smile. He walked over to Wei Ming, who lay motionless on the ground, gave him a gentle kick, and said cheerfully, “Brother Wei, no need to pretend to be dead. I know you’re fine. Get up.”

Wei Ming seemed truly dead, motionless, not even his belly rising and falling; he had no breath. Xie Wendong shook his head, pulled out his pistol, slowly chambered a round, then aimed it at Wei Ming’s forehead and said with a smile, “If Brother Wei keeps pretending to be dead, I’ll have no choice but to fulfill your wish and let you really die.” Wei Ming still showed no reaction, except for his tightly closed eyelids twitching slightly. “It’s going to rain, and my mother is getting married. If you want to become a ghost, there’s nothing I can do.” With that, Xie Wendong actually started pulling the trigger. His movements were so slow that the creaking sound of the spring being tightened could be heard clearly. Wei Ming finally couldn’t bear it any longer. The reason he had pretended to be dead was because he didn’t want to die for real. With a scream, he sat up, waving his hands frantically. “Don’t… don’t, Mr. Xie. Let’s talk it out slowly. Please, don’t kill me…” Hearing this, Xie Wendong tilted his head, deep in thought, as if truly considering whether to kill him.

Seeing some hope, Wei Ming cried bitterly. “Mr. Xie, I was wrong. I know I was wrong,” he said, slapping himself hard in the face before continuing, “I shouldn’t have opposed you, nor should I have joined the Soul Group. You’re so magnanimous—please don’t hold a grudge against someone like me. I’m an idiot; I was blind to join the Soul Group…”

Xie Wendong sighed and nodded, saying calmly, “You know you were wrong?” “Yes, I know. I… I…” Wei Ming knelt down abruptly, pressing his hands to the ground, almost like a dog. Xie Wendong gently helped him up, smiling and saying, “Since you admit your mistake, I won’t blame you or kill you. You may go.”

Wei Ming thought his ears must be playing tricks on him. Escaping unharmed from Xie Wendong, who was known for his cruelty, was beyond his wildest dreams. Trembling, he asked, “Mr. Xie, are you really letting me go?” Xie Wendong turned around, narrowing his eyes. “Before I change my mind, you’d better disappear right away.”

“Understood! I understand!” Wei Ming scrambled to his feet and slowly backed away. “Brother Dong!” Jiang Sen and Gao Qiang said in unison, “Keeping such a scoundrel around is a disaster. We should get rid of him as soon as possible!” Xie Wendong shook his head slowly and said, “Let him go.” “Brother Dong…!” Wei Ming’s heart almost leaped out of his chest. Instead of using the main door, fearing Xie Wendong might change his mind and chase after him, he planned to jump out through the window. He stepped backward one by one, and when he got close to the window, his once slow movements suddenly became as agile as those of a monkey. With a whoosh, he leaped over the window sill and ran straight into the woods across from him, shouting loudly, “Don’t shoot! It’s Wei Ming! Don’t shoot! It’s Wei Ming!”

The moment Wei Ming stepped into the forest, gunshots rang out almost simultaneously from the dark woods. Even with silencers in place, the noise was deafening. Poor Wei Ming didn’t even have time to scream—he was shot at least a hundred times, turning into a bloody mess from head to toe, with gaping holes oozing thick blood. Xie Wendong didn’t kill him, but he still died a tragic death at the hands of the Soul Group. By now, he was of no use to them, like a dog that, once used, is discarded without mercy. Wei Ming died horribly, and even Jiang Sen and Gao Qiang, who were watching from behind the villa window, broke into cold sweats. They bent down to look at Xie Wendong again; his expression remained unchanged, with a smile on his lips, as if unimpressed at all. The two wondered, “Brother Dong must have intentionally let him go.”

Xie Wendong neither confirmed nor denied it, only said coldly, “Killing people like him only dirties our hands.” Jiang Sen sighed, “How did Brother Dong know the Soul Group would definitely kill him?” Xie Wendong replied with a smile, “It’s simple. If he could get away right under our noses, would the Soul Group think he’s still the old Wei Ming?” “Ah!” Jiang Sen suddenly understood and agreed, “I get it. Right, surrounded by fierce enemies, the only reason Wei Ming could escape is if we intentionally let him go. But why would we do that? The Soul Group will surely suspect he might turn back to us, coming out to inform their follow-up forces or act as a spy.”

“So,” Xie Wendong said leisurely with a smile, “even if I let him go, the Soul Group will still kill him, and in even more brutal ways than I would.”

Hearing this, everyone was deeply moved. Xie Wendong’s foresight and cunning far surpassed theirs. Wei Ming’s surviving subordinates were terrified, not knowing what Xie Wendong would do to them. Before they could think further, the Soul Group launched another attack. This time, they divided into two groups—attacking from the front door and jumping in through windows. In close combat, guns were ineffective and could easily harm their own people, so both sides drew swords and engaged in a brutal hand-to-hand fight with primitive weapons. Xie Wendong’s marksmanship might not be impressive, but his swordsmanship—agile, swift, and vicious—was beyond ordinary people’s reach. Ren Changfeng, Gao Qiang, Li Shuang, and Jiang Sen were all skilled swordsmen, and the Five Elements Group wasn’t weak either. The Soul Group had a numerical advantage, but it wasn’t easy to defeat these men in one fell swoop.

Ren Changfeng faced three Japanese swords with his Tang sword. The Tang sword was shorter than the Japanese swords but much heavier, with a straight blade, deep blood grooves, and an exceptionally sharp edge made of alloy. The three men waved their swords, then saw Ren Changfeng standing motionless, unresponsive, and laughed scornfully. Almost simultaneously, they swung their three swords from three different angles, aiming at three vital points on his body. Their skills were top-notch in the underworld, but against Ren Changfeng, they were simply unlucky. Without moving, he suddenly leaned back as the sword tips neared him within three inches, causing the three Japanese swords to scrape past his chest. Before they could pull their swords back, he didn’t even look up. Contracting the muscles in his left leg to support his weight, he delivered a fierce kick with his right foot. “Ahh!” With a cry, Ren Changfeng straightened up and swung his sword in a single motion. It was incredibly fast—no flash of light, but the howling wind was deafening. The three members of the Soul Group, caught off guard by his sudden and fierce attack, retreated. Two of them managed to back away, but the one hit in the groin by Ren Changfeng’s kick could only crouch down to barely avoid it. Yet as the sword reached his head, it stopped abruptly. Ren Changfeng sneered, flipped his wrist, and thrust the sword tip downward with full force. “Thud!” The blade pierced his flesh—two fingers wide—entering at the base of his left neck and emerging at the base of his right neck. The man didn’t even make a sound; his eyes lost their luster, filled with pain, as he opened his mouth and spat out blood bubbles before slowly collapsing. Ren Changfeng glanced down at him disdainfully, slowly and steadily pulled out his Tang sword, flicked it aside—its shiny blade free of blood—and said proudly, “You two, go on.” The two remaining members of the Soul Group seemed shaken, staring blankly at their companion’s corpse, unable to speak or move. Seeing this, Ren Changfeng grew even more arrogant. With his eyes almost at the top of his head, he lowered his eyelids slightly and glanced at them, saying, “My time is limited. After dealing with you two, I still have to send others away.”

Although the two members of the Soul Group didn’t understand what he was saying, their expressions showed that he surely wasn’t saying anything good. Perhaps the strongest trait of the Japanese is their pride; they can’t stand being looked down upon by other ethnic groups. This has nothing to do with personality but is part of their national character. Ren Changfeng’s expression deeply hurt their pride. Their eyes widened, bloodshot, and they both roared in anger, swinging their swords at Ren Changfeng. Anger can sometimes make people lose their sanity and become a threat, but other times it can also boost one’s strength to levels beyond normal capacity. The two Japanese swords, which had seemed unchanged before, suddenly became as fast as lightning, aiming at Ren Changfeng’s throat and lower abdomen. With such force, even a single strike would leave him seriously injured if not dead. Ren Changfeng was slightly shaken and quickly put aside his contempt, carefully fighting back with his sword. Faced with their reckless fighting style of risking their lives for each other, he didn’t have an immediate solution to deal with them.

Gao Qiang and Li Shuang guarded Xie Wendong on either side, staying no more than three steps away from him at all times. The members of the Soul Group had already recognized Xie Wendong, and most of their forces were focused on him. Li Shuang also appeared formidable, capable of handling things on his own.

Gao Qiang inherited Xie Wendong’s usual “strengths”—cruelty, ruthlessness, unpredictability, and versatility. He fought without hesitation, aiming only to completely knock down his opponents and leave them unable to fight again. Although his strength wasn’t much less than Li Shuang’s, his sword was thin and light, as paper-thin and cotton-light. His strikes were erratic, making it hard to tell whether they were real or feints. It often seemed like his sword was still far away, but suddenly it would be right in front of him, leaving no time to dodge. In just a short while, several people were injured by Li Shuang, while over ten had been stabbed or cut down by Gao Qiang.

Jiang Sen and the five members of the Five Elements Group weren’t good at positional combat. The six of them moved around the area, fighting in a scattered manner, always centered around Xie Wendong.

Each of the six had a different swordsmanship style, but one thing was common: speed. They moved quickly, struck even faster, timed their attacks precisely, and retreated immediately after each strike, no matter whether it landed or not, to target the next opponent. They seemed like a whirlwind around Xie Wendong, leaving behind cries of pain and curses wherever they went.

Seeing someone with his back to him, Jiang Sen was delighted. In a few quick steps, he reached behind the man. Without any warning or sound, he smoothly and “gently” thrust a knife in. The speed wasn’t fast; even the sharp edge of the knife seemed softened. The man was focusing all his efforts on attacking Xie Wendong, never imagining that someone would attack him from behind. As he fought fiercely, gritting his teeth and continuously swinging his knife at Xie Wendong, he suddenly felt a blood-red object protruding from his chest. At first, he couldn’t see clearly. Only when he looked down carefully did he realize it was the knife tip—a bloody knife tip. “Ah…” Once he saw it clearly, intense pain struck. He let out a weak cry, gathering all his strength to instinctively swing his knife back. But just as he raised his arm, the knife tip in his chest disappeared. By the time his knife reached behind him, there was no sign of the man anymore. He felt wronged and unwilling to give up, but his broken heart prevented him from thinking further. He could only stare wide-eyed as he collapsed heavily.