“Shi Zhong has started to make his move. I’m here to ensure your safety.”
Liang Feng’s voice was calm—unshaken by the chaos unfolding around them. After all, they had rehearsed scenarios like this countless times.
All of it had been to ensure that, when the day finally came, everyone would walk out alive.
Hearing Liang Feng’s words, Gu YunZhou and Xia Chen unconsciously straightened their backs, a flicker of courage returning to their eyes.
But Xia Chen’s mind was spinning at full speed. He quickly picked up on the deeper meaning behind Liang Feng’s words.
“Uncle Liang… are you saying my sister and the others are in danger too?”
Gu YunZhou’s eyes widened as well. In that instant, he realized the full gravity of the situation.
“Xia Chen, don’t worry. Your sister’s side is covered—your father’s already gone to her.”
“W-What?! My father?!”
Once again, Xia Chen was struck speechless.
If this were a normal day, he might’ve thought Liang Feng was joking with him—some elaborate prank.
But in a moment like this, there was no reason to lie. No room for games.
Besides, Liang Feng rarely—if ever—mentioned his father at all.
Seeing the stunned disbelief in the two teenagers’ eyes, Liang Feng wasn’t surprised in the least.
No one would ever expect a man long believed dead… to come back from the grave.
“Get in the car. I’ll explain everything once we’re on the move.”
…
Kang Xin’s breathing was ragged, her entire body trembling under the weight of adrenaline and fear.
Every nerve in her body was stretched to the limit—if she so much as blinked, she felt like she might collapse.
They had faced who-knew-how-many assassins on the way here.
The enemy had come at them like lunatics, uncaring for their own lives.
They weren’t even trying to hide among the crowd—they had one goal: to capture them alive.
But the longer the standoff dragged on, the more the attackers realized just how difficult these two women were to deal with.
So they changed tactics. They started shooting to kill.
Even if they couldn’t capture them alive, killing them would still count as mission accomplished.
Yet, even after the police arrived, not a single bullet had struck Kang Xin or Ye QiuXue.
Out of options, the attackers were forced to temporarily withdraw.
Ye QiuXue was helping Kang Xin walk, her own face smeared with dirt and exhaustion. Yet when she looked at Kang Xin—completely expressionless despite her disheveled appearance—she finally understood just how much pain and hardship this girl had endured over the years.
“Kang Xin, you should rest. I’ll call someone from the Gu family to pick us up.”
She pulled out her phone and began to dial.
But suddenly—Kang Xin reached out and stopped her.
Shaking her head, she pushed herself up off the wall and stood.
“We need to move. While the police are still around.”
Ye QiuXue paused. Then her eyes widened.
“You’re trying to draw them out… aren’t you?”
She suddenly understood.
Kang Xin wanted to use herself as bait—to lure out the real mastermind hiding in the shadows.
It was insane.
It was suicide.
Ye QiuXue instinctively wanted to stop her. But one look at Kang Xin’s eyes—and the words caught in her throat.
“You think it’s reckless?” Kang Xin gave a tired, crooked smile. “HuMin told me once… HuMing used to do the same thing.”
“What? That can’t be… He used to be the heir of the Han family!”
Ye QiuXue was stunned. Her mind spun with questions—chaotic and dizzying.
Suddenly, a wild, outrageous thought emerged.
It took her back to a memory—so long ago:
[I’m not the young master of the Han family anymore. I don’t have the right to argue with you.]
[If I leave the Han family someday… you can’t call me ‘Han HuMing’ anymore.]
[Then what should I call you?]
[Just call me HuMing.]
Why could he remain calm—even in the face of death?
“He really lived through all that…”
Without another word, Ye QiuXue knelt and lifted Kang Xin onto her back.
She looked straight ahead, her voice steady.
“He’s been through more than we could ever imagine. He’s… incredible.”
“Yes,” Kang Xin murmured, resting her head on Ye QiuXue’s shoulder. “He really is.”
“And that’s enough.”
Ye QiuXue’s eyes were clear—unwavering—as she strode into the dark alleyway.
…
Elsewhere, HuMing came to a stop in front of a metal door.
He hadn’t even touched it when it creaked open on its own.
Beyond it was a vast, empty field, surrounded by shipping containers—clearly a makeshift training ground.
HuMing instantly saw through it.
It was a trap.
Step inside, and the door would shut behind him.
But he had no other choice.
If he turned back now, he’d lose his only chance to find Francis.
And clearly… Francis knew that too.
This was his game. His so-called banquet of blood.
So HuMing didn’t hesitate. He stepped through the doorway.
As expected—the door slammed shut behind him.
Harsh spotlights snapped on from all sides, converging on HuMing’s body.
From a distance, behind a glass panel above, a silhouette emerged.
A voice crackled through the loudspeaker.
“HuMing. I believe… this is our first official meeting in this world.”
The man standing there looked very different from the one HuMing remembered.
Different body. Same soul.
A grotesque parody of humanity.
“Maybe. You’ve been like a roach, clinging to my heels—kind of annoying, to be honest.”
“That’s my line, I came to this world first. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve taken over by now.”
Francis—or rather, Shi Zhong, as he was known here—sounded almost regretful.
“If you can’t do it with me around, doesn’t that just mean you’re useless?”
HuMing chuckled. “Still the same old Francis.”
The man behind the glass didn’t seem bothered by the insult. He crossed his arms and looked down like a man admiring a stage.
HuMing suddenly felt the temperature around him drop.
The air turned cold. Icy.
Like a freezer leaking frost from the ground up.
Any normal person would’ve collapsed within minutes.
“HuMing, when I first heard your name, I thought you were nothing. Just HuMin’s little disciple. And she couldn’t beat me—so why would you?”
“And yet, you died.”
HuMing’s voice was calm. A simple statement of fact.
“Yes, I died,” Francis agreed, almost reverently. “You didn’t even give me a chance to react. One bullet. Through the head. I still remember your eyes… so cold, so beautiful…”
He shut his eyes, intoxicated by the memory.
“You sound obsessed,” HuMing sneered. “If that’s your thing, I can introduce you to someone.”
“Don’t you get it?” Francis suddenly shouted. “No one compares to you! You’re the perfect specimen! Those other assassins? Garbage! But look at you now… your eyes—they’ve softened. You have a weakness now. I hate it. You were supposed to be cold. Ruthless. A machine!”
HuMing frowned.
“You think that just because I have feelings… I’m not HuMing?”
“If you’re sick in the head, maybe go see a doctor. And just so we’re clear—my ‘softness’ is for the people I care about. As for dealing with garbage like you—”
He smirked.
“I’ve got more than enough sharp edges left.”
Francis laughed. But there was something twisted in it. Something off.
“Then let’s test that, shall we?”
Before HuMing could react, a shadow dropped from above.
Fast. Deadly.
He dodged instinctively, barely avoiding the strike.
And when he looked up—he froze.
A woman stood before him.
Black trench coat. Cold, emotionless eyes.
The broadcast voice rang out again, tinged with malice and delight.
“Hahaha… HuMing. Let’s see—can you raise your hand against your own teacher?”
“After all… she’s the one closest to you.”