Chapter 292

After waiting for a long time, Sanyan, who was holding his ear, still heard no explosion. Curious, he poked his head out to take a look, then turned to look at Li Shuang with suspicion, his eyes filled with confusion. Li Shuang was also scratching his head in bewilderment, muttering to himself, “Huh? Why isn’t there any sound?” “Yeah! That’s what I was going to ask you!” Sanyan said irritably. After a while, Li Shuang blurted out, “It might be a dumb bomb! Damn, Russian-made stuff really sucks!” “Damn it!” Sanyan almost spat blood on the spot. He kicked Li Shuang in the ass and said, “You idiot…”

Although the grenade didn’t explode, it terrified the people of Nanhongmen. None of the dozen or so people who jumped out could stand up again. Zhou Ting stamped his foot in anger. When he turned to look at his men, he found there were less than twenty left, many of them injured. They were frowning and gritting their teeth as they bandaged their wounds. With a sigh, he realized that he hadn’t anticipated they had such skilled marksmen. He would remember this lesson. With the situation turning against them, continuing to fight would mean no one could escape. Zhou Ting decided to retreat. Waving his gun, he fought his way backward. Once he lost confidence, the others also lost their resolve and began to withdraw. Every move of Nanhongmen wasn’t hidden from Xie Wendong’s eyes. Seeing them try to flee, he sneered, slowly pulled out his gun, removed the magazine, checked the bullets inside, reloaded it, raised it, took a deep breath, and charged at them.

He leaned forward at high speed, his black clothes making him resemble a raccoon. In an instant, he appeared beneath one of their vans. “Ah?” Sanyan was so scared he stuck out his tongue. He thought to himself that Dongge had just come out of the hospital and wasn’t fully recovered. How could he be so reckless? If something went wrong in their territory, it would be disastrous. Worrying about Xie Wendong, Sanyan didn’t hesitate and almost instinctively rushed out after him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as lucky as Xie Wendong. Xie’s attack was sudden, and none of Nanhongmen’s men, including Zhou Ting, expected it. But by the time Sanyan ran out a few steps, a burst of bullets greeted him. With no choice, he rolled to the ground and retreated, unable to make any progress.

Although Zhou Ting saw someone rushing into his camp, he was positioned quite far back. Xie Wendong, dressed in black, blended in with the darkness of the night, making it difficult to distinguish him, so Zhou Ting didn’t recognize him. He simply shouted loudly, “Kill the one who’s coming over!” A few burly men hiding behind the van exchanged glances. From the sound, they knew the enemy was right behind their vehicle. One of them tried to peek at the enemy’s position; as soon as half of his head appeared, gunshots rang out. His body shook, his mouth opened but no sound came out, and he collapsed helplessly. His two companions quickly pulled him back. Looking down, they were horrified and closed their eyes—the man’s eye had been blasted out, with a mixture of black, red, and white fluids slowly flowing from the wound. “Brother!” one of them roared in fury and fired wildly at the vehicle. Instantly, the vehicle was covered in bullet holes, with smoke and black holes appearing everywhere. The other man reacted quickly, lying flat on the ground and using the gap between the vehicle’s chassis and the ground to observe the enemy’s position.

Everything he could think of, Xie Wendong had already thought of as well. When it came to cunning, deceit, and adaptability, he was far inferior to Xie Wendong. The man crouched down, his face pressed against the ground. Under the car, he saw a smiling face, seemingly harmless. This was completely unexpected; his mouth fell open, and his eyes almost popped out. Xie Wendong didn’t give him a chance to scream. He reached out, covered his mouth, and with his other hand, straightened his palm like a sharp sword and thrust it down fiercely. Xie Wendong’s fingers might not be lethal, but the gleaming golden knife in his grip could be. With a “thud!”, the entire blade disappeared into the giant’s throat. The man couldn’t make a sound. It was narrow under the car, and as he thrashed around, soon only slight convulsions remained. His companion behind the car didn’t know what was happening under it. After running out of bullets, they calmed down slightly, loading more bullets while glancing down at their companion. Only his legs were left outside the car, twitching occasionally. Curious, they kicked him—no response. Even more puzzled, they bent down to check. Just as they squatted down, a hand suddenly stretched out from the car, a silver pistol pointed straight at their forehead. The man immediately understood—without asking, his companion under the car must have met the same fate. Smartly, he said nothing, threw away the gun, and crouched down with his hands covering his head. Xie Wendong emerged from under the car, still crouched, and said with a smile, “You’re quite smart.” The man replied helplessly, “I just know when to back down.” “Mm, good.” Xie Wendong waved the pistol in front of him, the barrel never leaving his head. “Do as I say, and you’ll live.” The man nodded. “Now, lower your hands, stand up slowly, then walk in the direction of your leader. It’s best if you don’t make any sudden moves, because I’ll always be behind you—along with my gun.” Xie Wendong’s voice was gentle, but to the man’s ears, it sounded like the loudest noise in the world. Yet he had no choice but to follow Xie Wendong’s orders, for he was afraid of death. The man stood up as instructed and slowly walked toward Zhou Ting’s direction.

At first, Zhou Ting didn’t notice his strange behavior. He was standing in front of his car, loudly directing his subordinates to back away. By chance, his gaze fell on the burly man approaching. Seeing him move slowly, Zhou Ting snapped, “What are you doing? Get in the car quickly!” Sweat streamed down the burly man’s face. He wanted to hurry, but the gun behind him prevented him from moving fast. As if he hadn’t heard, the man continued to walk slowly toward Zhou Ting. Quick-witted, Zhou Ting noticed the man’s unnatural expression and stiff movements. Without thinking, he raised his gun and fired.

He shot the burly man in the lower left abdomen, not a vital spot. Still, the man let out a painful cry and fell backward. Xie Wendong bent down, slipped under the man, and pulled out his gun, aiming it at Zhou Ting. His finger stayed on the trigger—“bang bang bang”—the semi-automatic pistol fired in rapid succession, like a submachine gun, emptying all its bullets in one go.

Xie Wendong’s greatest weakness was probably his marksmanship. Even from less than ten meters away, not a single of the twenty bullets hit target, leaving only a few marks on Zhou Ting’s clothes. Frightened, Zhou Ting shrunk back, didn’t dare say another word, and rushed into the car, stepping on the accelerator and driving away. With him gone, the underlings of Nan Hongmen were in trouble—without any fighting spirit, they didn’t know whether to fight or flee. Eventually, they threw down their guns and surrendered. San Yan and the others rushed forward, kicking the surrenderers mercilessly, causing them to cry out in pain. San Yan approached Xie Wendong, checked him thoroughly from head to toe, and saw he was unharmed. He sighed in relief and said, “Brother Dong, why so impulsive? You almost scared me to death.”

Xie Wendong looked at the gun in his hand with regret. He thought it was a good gun, too bad it was in the hands of someone who didn’t know how to use it. He chuckled and said, “I haven’t exercised for a long time; my body is weak.” Jiang Sen stepped forward, glanced at the surrenderers, and asked, “Brother Dong, what should we do with them?”

Xie Wendong pondered for a moment, brushed the dirt off his clothes, turned toward the car, and said calmly as he closed the door, “We don’t have the time or manpower to watch over them.”

Sanyan and Jiang Sen immediately understood what he meant and drew their knives from beneath their ribs. Lingmin frowned and said, “Brother Dong, killing them—what if the police show up? We won’t be able to explain it.” Xie Wendong replied, “Killing one is killing; killing ten is still killing. Since someone’s already dead, it doesn’t matter if a few more die!” With that, he closed the car door and said to Gao Qiang, who was driving, “Go to the factory!” The car drove away, followed by terrifying screams. Usually, it was Jiang Sen who handled the cleanup. Though he didn’t want to do this job either, as Sanyan put it, “Lao Sen is better at it!” “It’s time to show Xiang Wentian some respect.” Xie Wendong sat in the car, took out a black handkerchief from his pocket, unfolded it carefully, and tied it under his nose. Seeing this, Gao Qiang and Li Shuang in the car laughed. Indeed, with Xie Wendong around, they seemed afraid of no one.

The car kept moving forward. As it approached the factory, screams of battle could be heard inside, and the flames turned the night red. Xie Wendong threw away his pistol and drew a cold, menacing machete from beneath his clothes. For him, knives and guns were inseparable—even when unconscious in the hospital, he still carried both hidden under his clothes. In the world of martial arts, weapons meant survival. Between knives and guns, Xie Wendong preferred the latter. After all, bullets were finite, while a knife’s thirst for blood was endless.

Several cars stopped in front of the factory. All the doors opened at once, and Xie Wendong and the others, with black handkerchiefs over their mouths, stepped out. There were people from the Nanhong Gate guarding the entrance. At first, they were worried seeing a convoy approaching, but when they realized it was their own people, thinking it was Zhou Ting returning, they relaxed. When the cars stopped, four or five men in white clothes came forward, but they were shocked by the people stepping out of the cars. “Who are you…” They saw unfamiliar faces and couldn’t figure out what was going on.

Suddenly, a cloud of black mist flew toward them. They panicked and stepped back. The mist settled to the ground, and when they looked down, it turned out to be a black card. One of them, out of curiosity, picked it up and examined it closely. There were big red characters on the card. The man read in shock, “Kill?” “You’re right!” With a flash of silver light, in the blink of an eye, his throat was cut in two. “Thud!” As he fell, Xie Wendong swung his knife forward, moving like an arrow leaving the bow. The blade flashed brightly, slicing through the surrounding men like mercury pouring down.

“Ah!” Everyone from the Nan Hongmen stepped back in shock. Once they steadied themselves, they felt a burning pain in their chests. Looking down, they saw deep cuts over a foot long on their chests, with blood staining their white clothes—a horrifying sight. Before they could react, the people behind Xie Wendong moved. The Three-Eyed Knife was identical to the Mountain-Opening Knife in Xie Wendong’s hand, but in his grasp, it took on a different, fiercely masculine edge—bold and unstoppable. It seemed tailor-made for someone like him. With its hard steel blade and sharp edge, any attempt to block it with another weapon would result in it splitting in two. Xie Wendong slashed at the crowd with a few blows, after which the Three-Eyed One charged forward, causing chaos as people fell to the ground screaming. Gao Qiang and Li Shuang followed closely behind Xie Wendong, never straying far, afraid he might get separated.

Ren Changfeng, seeing that the disciples of the Nan Hongmen fighting against him were all low-level fighters, dismissed them easily. He didn’t even draw his Tang sword from its sheath. When someone rushed at him, he simply shifted slightly before slashing them unconscious with a single blow. He was the cleanest fighter—charging through the chaos without a single drop of blood on him.

Xie Wendong led the fight, searching for Xiang Wentian. The deeper they went into the factory, the more enemies appeared—white-clad figures everywhere, all belonging to the Nan Hongmen.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fought so fiercely. He unbuttoned his shirt, his fighting spirit at its peak. Even if an elephant appeared before him, he was confident he could kill it with one strike. With a loud shout, Xie Wendong spun and dashed sideways. Four or five knives struck the spot where he had stood moments earlier, clanging loudly. He kept moving, circling behind one of the enemies before thrusting his knife in with a cold breath. “Ah…” The entire tip of his Mountain-Opening Knife sank into the enemy’s back, hot blood spraying from the hollow blade channel. Without hesitation, Xie Wendong pulled the knife out quickly and crouched down. Almost simultaneously, three more knives came swinging from behind.

He lifted his robe, wrapping the enemies’ knives together, then twisted hard. The three men cried out in pain as their knives fell to the ground. With a single swing of his arm, a golden light flashed, and the three men felt a chill down their necks—all their strength vanished as they collapsed limp. Without even glancing back, Xie Wendong shook off the blood from his golden sword and continued forward.

By the time they approached the small building inside the factory, the people from the South Hongmen had already gathered in huge numbers. The building was surrounded by layers and layers of people, making it impossible to count them. Some were even pouring gasoline inside the building, setting it on fire with the intention of reducing it to ashes. From a distance, Xie Wendong spotted a burly man wearing sunglasses, shouting loudly and gesturing wildly among the crowd, constantly ordering others to pour more gasoline. Great! Xie Wendong nodded secretly. Since he couldn’t target Wentian, he would take his anger out on this guy wearing sunglasses in the darkness!

Xie Wendong shouted loudly, drawing the attention of Sanyan and the others. He pointed at the burly man and drew a line across his throat, shouting, “Kill him!” Xie Wendong and Sanyan didn’t know this man, but Ren Changfeng had heard of him before. The South Hongmen knew well who the capable people in the North Hongmen were, and vice versa. At just one glance, Ren Changfeng immediately thought of one person: Tian Fangchang, one of the Eight Heavenly Kings of the South Hongmen, known as the “One-Eyed Dragon.” He quickly drew his Tang sword, which flew out of its sheath and struck the face of a South Hongmen disciple charging at him. Blood gushed from the man’s nose and mouth as he fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain. Ren Changfeng glanced at him in surprise, shrugged, and muttered to himself, “You’re really unlucky!” Though he called it bad luck, it was actually fortunate—had he rushed forward, his own life would have been in danger. Ren Changfeng was ruthless and rarely left anyone alive. Holding his three-and-a-half-foot-long Tang sword, he charged straight at Tian Fangchang, shouting without looking back, “Brother Dong, leave him to me!”

“Why try to steal the spotlight?” Sanyan kicked over a man in front of him and stole a glance at Ren Changfeng’s back. Although he always disdained Ren Changfeng’s arrogance, he couldn’t help but admire his courage and extraordinary skills. Only someone like him could dare to fight right in the heart of the enemy ranks and confront their leader alone. Worried that Ren Changfeng might suffer a loss, Sanyan silently followed behind. It’s true that battles are the best way to forge bonds.