Seeing that Fu Wenqu had no intention of stopping him, Little Boss Huo, clutching his reddened nose from the blow, called his father.
During the call, he warily watched Fu Wenqu’s every move, trying to calmly relay the situation.
Gradually, his expression turned strange.
Huo Qiya set down the communicator, his voice hesitant: “You’re ‘A-Wen’?”
Fu Wenqu nodded calmly: “That’s what they call me.”
Huo Qiya handed over the still-active communicator: “Father says if it’s ‘A-Wen,’ you should take the call.”
Fu Wenqu took it with ease, greeting politely: “Hello, Boss Huo.”
The aged voice on the other end paused, hearing his tone: “…A-Wen, you’re still alive?”
Fu Wenqu scratched his earlobe: “Thanks to you.”
Old Boss Huo wasn’t domineering; his voice was that of a kind, grandfatherly figure doting on grandkids at home, but his words cut straight to the point: “How much did ‘Haina’ pay you?”
In his mind, Fu Wenqu was someone no one could buy long-term.
He was like a lone crow or drifting weed, destined to have no perch, no home.
So, Fu Wenqu’s tie to “Haina” must be transactional.
Since he thought so, Fu Wenqu played along: “An astronomical sum.”
Old Boss Huo gave a wry chuckle: “If I’d known you were alive, I’d have sent you to take out that Ning guy.”
Fu Wenqu smiled: “Too late. I’ve been paid. You know my style—I don’t serve two masters until a job’s done.”
“Doing business on my turf—haven’t seen you in years, but your guts haven’t shrunk,” Old Boss Huo said mildly. “You kidnap my son, and you think this can end well?”
“It has been years,” Fu Wenqu sighed. “You’re talking to me about ‘ending well’?”
“If you don’t give me an ‘ending well,’ I’ll ‘end’ your son, then you. Then your illegitimate kids will fight over your empire, probably ‘ending’ each other. As for you, hope you’ve earned enough karma this life to avoid reincarnating in the lower districts next.”
Huo Qiya’s face paled, then flushed, his light blue eyes—eerily like his father’s—trembling.
He couldn’t fathom anyone in Silver Hammer City daring to speak to his father like this.
Old Boss Huo didn’t escalate with threats.
They spoke calmly for a bit before hanging up.
Fu Wenqu returned the communicator to Huo Qiya: “Talked to your dad. I’ll take ‘Glove’s’ place as your bodyguard for a while. I’m pretty capable—driving, cleaning, cooking, I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about my food or lodging.”
He patted his suitcase: “See? Brought clothes, toiletries, even compressed biscuits.”
Fu Wenqu’s eyes crinkled, fine lines fanning out, his deep-set eyes giving a harmless smile: “Oh, I’ll clean up outside. Carry on with your work.”
He bowed slightly and closed the door.
Through the crack, Huo Qiya saw him casually hoist “Glove’s” corpse, his ease chilling.
Huo Qiya’s finger hovered over the alarm button, then dropped.
He texted his father: “Dad, who is he?”
The reply came fast:
“Silver Hammer’s old top cleaner. A fine blade used by all the big firms. I hired him before—good work.”
“Listen to him. If he didn’t kill you on sight, you’re safe. But if you don’t follow his orders, he’s the most dangerous man alive.”
Huo Qiya swallowed hard.
He wasn’t a reckless tough guy.
If he called “White Shield,” they’d respond instantly.
But looking into Fu Wenqu’s eyes, he knew he wasn’t being held as a hostage.
Fu Wenqu used his own life as a bargaining chip, not for threats but for balance.
Huo Qiya didn’t doubt that if police or goons showed up, Fu Wenqu would kill him instantly and escape.
No matter how rich he was, he only had one life.
As Little Boss Huo sweated and overthought, Fu Wenqu poked his head back in, startling him again.
“Oh, forgot to ask: call your people. Tell them to stop targeting ‘Haina.’”
Fu Wenqu raised a hand to adjust glasses he wasn’t wearing, playfully pinching his nose instead: “Peace first, right?”
…
At the “Haina” base.
Seven or eight men lay foaming at the mouth, felled by Phoenix’s makeshift gas chamber.
A mercenary clung to “Spider’s” hem, purple lips gaping, throat gurgling pitifully.
“Spider,” too busy to care, stomped his neck.
The man’s head lolled, wrist going limp.
“Spider’s” eyes were bloodshot.
He’d lost count of how many times he wanted to curse: What lunatic rigs their own base with this many traps?
More teammates went offline, impossible to cover all fronts. Fifteen minutes ago, after ordering solo ops, no more distress calls came through his earpiece.
“Spider” bit the pin of a flashbang, ready to toss, when his silent earpiece crackled.
“Hey…” Jiang Jiuzhao’s weak voice came through. “Upper command… cancel the attack…”
“Spider” froze.
His hesitation cost him the throw’s timing; he lobbed the flashbang uselessly, exploding into nothing.
His heart sank, tongue stiff: “Jiang-ge, you joking?”
Jiang Jiuzhao laughed, cursing: “Fu-ck, I’m in so much pain I can barely move my mouth. What joke?”
“Spider,” incredulous, pressed: “What’d ‘Glove’ say?”
Jiang Jiuzhao: “Not ‘Glove.’ Direct orders from above.”
“Spider” slammed his shield into the ground, blocking a barrage of heat-seeking rounds, roaring: “Then what about us? We’re still in ‘Haina’!”
“Negotiate peace,” Jiang Jiuzhao coughed, blood audible in his throat. “…Are you winning or losing right now?”
“Spider” ripped off his earpiece: “Shit!”
Trapped in a dead-end, surrender or fight?
He had little choice.
Surrender meant handing their lives to the enemy, but at least there was a chance to live.
Fighting… meant leading everyone to death.
Some didn’t want to die.
The sounds of battle across the base dwindled, then stopped.
“Spider” stood by the wall, hands down, until a gun pressed against his head.
He didn’t resist.
Mercenaries were tools for various factions, harboring no personal grudges.
Even captured, “Spider” and his crew, as big-firm assets, felt superior to “Haina.”
Killing them would be a slap to Ruiteng Corporation’s face.
Unaware of Ruiteng’s current boss’s predicament, “Spider” let himself be escorted away, oddly at ease.
Fifteen minutes later.
Shan Feibai, carrying a blood-soaked Ning Zhuo and Kuang Hexuan, barreled through the base’s still-unmopped bloodstains, screeching into the underground garage.
The car was stolen from “Rousseau.”
Yu Shujian, in the passenger seat, fought nausea and panic from the high-speed ride. As they hit the winding mountain road, he called the base, briefly reporting Ning Zhuo and Kuang Hexuan’s injuries.
The back door opened, and Min Min, just regaining her bearings, jolted at the sight of blood-drenched Ning Zhuo.
She instinctively placed a hand on his chest.
Eyes shut, Ning Zhuo spoke calmly, answering her unspoken question: “Not dead.”
Min Min’s eyes welled up, speechless.
Phoenix rushed Kuang Hexuan off on a stretcher, while Min Min checked Ning Zhuo, confirming no broken bones. Then, a silent figure stepped forward, wordlessly bent down, and scooped Ning Zhuo up.
Ning Zhuo looked up at Jin Xueshen.
Jin Xueshen, lips tight, refused to meet his gaze: “This is your dying hallucination. I’m not carrying you.”
Ning Zhuo closed his eyes: “…That guy, I left him four-fifths dead, worse off than you… Don’t worry.”
His words trailed off with a faint breath, and he passed out.
…
Ning Zhuo woke again to searing pain.
Unable to bear it, he let out a long, pained “mm—.”
A face immediately leaned over the bedside.
At first, Ning Zhuo froze, the scene feeling familiar.
Then he remembered.
…The first time he saved Shan Feibai from kidnappers, badly injured.
Back then, “Xiao Bai” would peek at him like this.
Back then, “Xiao Bai’s” concern was half real, half fake.
Now, his eyes shone with pure, unfiltered sincerity.
…Comparison reveals truth.
“Scared me to death,” Shan Feibai said, pinching Ning Zhuo’s earlobe, listless. “…Worried me sick.”
Ning Zhuo’s ears were sensitive; he tilted his head slightly.
But he soon straightened, offering his earlobe back.
After all Shan Feibai’s fear, letting him touch wouldn’t cost him anything.
Ning Zhuo asked: “How long was I out?”
Shan Feibai: “A day and a half.”
“Oh,” Ning Zhuo muttered. “Not too bad. Didn’t lose much time.”
“Bro, if you’d really died, it’d be such a waste,” Shan Feibai said, eyes clear, gazing at him. “Better I take you out myself.”
Ning Zhuo mouthed a silent “Scram.”
Shan Feibai climbed onto the bed but didn’t crowd him, curling his lanky frame into an awkward pose beside him, looking pitiful yet adorable.
Ning Zhuo glanced at him: “If I really died, what would you do?”
“Me…” Shan Feibai said slowly, “I’d finish our ship, get your people to safety, then come find you.”
“…You better wait for me. This stuff’ll take months to wrap up. If you reincarnate early, you’ll be way older than me again.”
Ning Zhuo watched him quietly.
…Shan Feibai was serious, not joking.
He asked: “You like me that much?”
Shan Feibai: “Yep, that much.”
Ning Zhuo teased lightly: “What if I don’t come back human? Reincarnate as a cat?”
“Then I’ll be a dog, carrying you to snatch food.”
“Carry me?”
“I’d love to. Or if you’re up for it, we could run together, fast.”
“Cats and dogs are natural enemies. We’d still fight in the next life?”
Shan Feibai: “Gotta fight.”
His youth began with that spark.
His aggression toward Ning Zhuo stemmed from a restless, conquering desire intertwined with love.
The two were inseparable, bound by fate.
Shan Feibai couldn’t resist listening to his heartbeat, confirming its steady strength, before whispering: “Ning-ge, was I cool shooting?”
When he got docile, he could melt hearts.
It reaffirmed Ning Zhuo’s choice.
This path of life was far more interesting than death.
Min Min, noticing Ning Zhuo was awake, had been gearing up to storm in and chew him out.
This time was too close.
Kuang Hexuan looked worse, in a deep coma on return, but his tough hide pulled through. Before passing out, Ning Zhuo had used the last hemostatic on him, and after treatment, his vitals stabilized fast.
After Ning Zhuo’s surgery, Min Min nearly collapsed.
He’d been this close to not making it.
Now, her fear subsiding, she regained her fire, ready to scold Ning Zhuo for nearly ruining her reputation.
But she walked in to see them side by side on her hospital bed, whispering sweet nothings.
Phoenix had gossiped about this privately, but Min Min had brushed it off, unconvinced.
She’d treated their fight-inflicted wounds herself.
She’d even joked that if Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai got together, she’d marry Phoenix on her sister’s behalf, then join them for a triple celebration.
Now, seeing them cozy and intimate, Min Min’s pupils quaked like a magnitude eight.
Shan Feibai noticed her first but didn’t budge, calling sweetly: “Sister.”
…Meaning, “You can leave now, don’t bother us.”
Min Min swallowed a scream, gripping the doorframe so hard her wrist shook: “So, uh… we still building the ship?”
Ning Zhuo, curt: “Yes.”
Min Min stepped back, then remembered something urgent: “Oh, Boss Fu hasn’t returned…”
“I know,” Ning Zhuo cut her off. “He called me. I know where he is.”
His voice dropped, audible only to Shan Feibai: “Don’t waste the time he’s bought us.”
