Chapter 347

In the afternoon, at Beijing Airport. The Central Committee truly held Xie Wendong in high regard, going so far as to prepare a private jet for him. It wasn’t large—capable of holding only about a dozen people—but in China at that time, it was quite impressive, showing him great respect.

Xie Wendong arrived at the airport accompanied by Dong Fangyi and several unfamiliar agents in black. His thin frame was framed by his Zhongshan suit, his back straightened as required. At the insistence of those above, he wore sunglasses—after all, the news of the Central Committee sending him away wasn’t meant to leak outside. If Japan found out, China would be in an extremely embarrassing situation. Xie Wendong’s complexion was pale; who could stay cheerful when it was time to leave, especially under coercion?

Dong Fangyi comforted him as they walked, saying, “It’s fine. As those above said, you’ll still have the chance to return to the country in a few years.”

“You’re quite well-informed!” Xie Wendong retorted inwardly. On the surface, he showed no change, merely nodding slightly without saying anything.

Dong Fangyi continued, “By then, you’ll be under thirty—anything can be started over!”

“How easy you make it sound!” Xie Wendong sighed deeply, then lowered his head in silence.

As they spoke, another group of agents emerged from the airport. After sizing up Xie Wendong and Dong Fangyi, they nodded and said, “Mr. Xie, please.” Without waiting for his consent, they took his arm and led him toward the plane. Dong Fangyi tried to follow but was stopped by others, who refused to even glance at him out of pride. As a high-ranking official in the Political Department, he had never endured such humiliation. With a cold expression, he said, “Do you know who I am?”

“Whoever you are, no one is allowed in without superior approval.” That single sentence silenced Dong Fangyi completely.

Xie Wendong was almost forced onto the plane, accompanied by five or six burly men in black. Just by seeing the muscles straining their clothes, it was clear they were highly trained special forces soldiers. It seemed the Central Committee didn’t want to give Xie Wendong any chance to escape. He hadn’t planned to run anyway—if he had, why wait until now? Once on the plane, he sat down in a chair, closed his eyes, and fell into deep thought.

Through the window, Dong Fangyi watched the plane slowly take off, shaking his head in thought. Xie Wendong, such a smart man, had ended up like this—proof that one wrong move can ruin everything. His mistake had been rushing things; he shouldn’t have rushed to destroy the Soul Group. Once the Soul Group was gone, Japan would blame him alone, and he would also lose any value the government could exploit him for.

Dong Fang Yi was filled with emotion. That evening, just as he was about to go to bed, he received a call from his subordinate, saying that the plane Xie Wendong was on had crashed en route. Once he heard this, he almost jumped out of bed, shouting, “What did you say?”
“The plane crashed! It seems some part of the aircraft exploded mid-flight, causing it to crash. The authorities are now sending people to clean up the wreckage.”
“Ah?” Dong Fang Yi’s mouth hung open as he was unable to speak for a while. After a long pause, he asked, “So… what about the people on the plane?”
“None survived!”
Dong Fang Yi held the phone in a daze. In the scorching heat, cold sweat soaked through his pajamas. He realized that the authorities still hadn’t given up on Xie Wendong!
The plane’s wreckage was in tatters, with scattered parts scattered everywhere, along with burned corpses. The foul smell filled the air, making people feel nauseous.
One of the corpses was completely blackened; from its clothes, it could be faintly identified as a black Zhongshan suit. Searchers also found on the corpse’s wrist the silver-threaded golden knife that Xie Wendong always carried with him, treating it as his second life. It was certain that this corpse belonged to Xie Wendong.
The news spread rapidly throughout China and reached the ears of people from the Wen Dong Club, Beihongmen, Jinpeng, Jinrong, and the two Gao sisters. It was hard for people to accept this fact. Those who cared for him cried bitterly, while even those who didn’t know him shook their heads in sorrow. The underworld mourned the fall of a great hero. When Xiang Wentian heard the news, he sighed deeply, saying he had lost his greatest enemy as well as a confidant who understood him best.
In the Wen Dong Club and Beihongmen, everyone wore mourning clothes, with sorrow on everyone’s face.
Not long after, Jinrong went abroad to study, seemingly unwilling to stay in this place of sorrow for even another second.
Later, the two Gao sisters also disappeared one after another, and no one has seen them since.
“That’s the story of Xie Wendong!” In a prison on the outskirts of City J, a middle-aged man in his fifties with mostly gray hair murmured while smoking. Around him, a group of young people in their twenties sat attentively, listening to his story. Xie Wendong had been dead for a long time, but his name hadn’t faded from people’s minds. There seemed to be even more people talking about him, filled with curiosity about his age, his deeds, his actions, and everything about him. Some exaggerated and embellished his story, portraying him as almost a god-like figure.

“Could it be… he’s really dead?” As the story neared its end, the young people still found it hard to accept that Xie Wendong had died like this. One clever-looking young man asked in disbelief.
The middle-aged man’s expression changed instantly. Nervously, he grabbed the young man’s collar, his eyes wide as bells. His pale, almost translucent face pressed close to the young man’s, and he asked excitedly, his voice filled with fear, disbelief, and a hint of strange excitement, “What? What did you say? Is he… Xie Wendong… still alive?”
“No, no, no…” The man’s intense reaction scared the young man, who shook his head frantically, looking panicked. “I… I don’t know. I just can’t believe it. How could someone as extraordinary as him die just like that?”
“Huh…” The middle-aged man let out a sigh, slowly releasing his claw-like, gaunt hands. Leaning against the wall, he looked up at the sky and murmured, “He’s human, not a god. He’s just a scoundrel…”
In the Pacific Ocean, on an unnamed island—only a little over 100,000 square meters in size—the environment was serene, with spring-like weather all year round. Lush green grass never withered. At dusk, the setting sun painted the horizon in brilliant reds, making it seem as though the island was the only thing in existence. At the center of the island stood a magnificent and almost perfect villa. Its white marble walls were as pure as ivory, and its glazed tiles shone brilliantly under the sunlight, creating a dazzling sight. Standing nearby gave one the feeling of being in a fairyland. The island’s owner had paid 200 million dollars for it—a hefty price, but he felt it was worth it.
By the sea, several yachts were docked. On the beach, under a large umbrella, there was a lounge chair with someone lying on it. The person had thick, black hair that covered their eyebrows, was bare-chested, wearing sunglasses, and had a cigarette in their mouth. Their legs were crossed, and they occasionally swayed them, enjoying the gentle sea breeze and the warm sunlight. Their contented appearance could even make gods jealous.
Not far away, two women approached, wearing bikini bottoms only, revealing their fit and well-proportioned bodies. Their skin was delicate and fair, like milk. The two women looked very similar—both charmingly beautiful, both gentle and lovely, both like fairies…
They came to the side of the person on the lounge chair, one on each side, resting their heads on his shoulders. Without saying a word, their happy smiles were even more beautiful and touching than the setting sun.
At that moment, another woman came out of the villa. Seeing the three of them almost touching by the sea, she shook her head helplessly, smiled, and called out loudly, “Time to eat!”

The man on the couch heard the shouts and finally opened his eyes. Gently pushing the two annoying girls aside, he stretched lazily and said with a smile, “What a great sleep!” Then, rubbing his stomach, he shrugged and added, “I’m actually a bit hungry. Xiao Ling is always so timely, hehe.”

“Stop being so self-important!” The girl on his left frowned slightly and began to “stroke” his arm. The man gritted his teeth in pain, turned over to stand up, and his sunglasses fell off, revealing a pair of narrow, curved eyes that shone brightly as if about to emit light. Grinning through the pain, he said, “When will you ever change that habit of yours?”

“I can’t change it. As the saying goes, you can tell who someone will be in their thirties. I’m already in my twenties—how can I change?” The girl laughed cunningly, eerily, yet still with a hint of innocence and straightforwardness.

Looking at her lips, which opened and closed, the man felt an urge to taste their sweetness, but he held back. Resigned, he said, “Alright, I can’t argue with you. Come on, let’s go back for dinner.”

“Rongrong called today. She said she’ll start her vacation in a few days and asked you to pick her up.”

“Pick her up?” The man slapped his forehead and pretended to look upset. “It seems more trouble is coming!” His face was grim, but his eyes were smiling.

“Dinglingling!” A pleasant ringtone sounded. The man picked up the phone, glanced at it, and said with a smile, “You guys go back first. I need to take a call.” With that, he turned and walked away.

The two girls exchanged a knowing smile and walked back to the villa. Only after they were far away did the man answer the phone. His lips curled slightly, his eyes narrowed, but the gaze they emitted was as sharp as a blade. “Brother Zhang, how’s things going?”

“The old man is taken care of. There are still a few underlings left. Brother Dong, should we keep them or not?”

“Hehe! If you don’t root out the weeds, they’ll grow back with the spring breeze!”

Needless to say, this man was Xie Wendong. He wasn’t dead. The “Xie Wendong” who died on that plane was indeed dead, but it wasn’t him. As mentioned earlier, there was someone who looked very much like Xie Wendong, who owed him a great debt and suffered from a terminal illness. That person sacrificed his own life to save Xie Wendong’s.

By this point, the villain has been largely shaped, and it’s time to wrap things up. If you think this villain is acceptable, then he will continue in the next parts.

(End of the book)