Chapter 87: 87, added three more
The wind had risen in the mountains.
Laojun Mountain, with an elevation of over two thousand meters, lies between the Funiu Mountain Range.
The nights here are sharply cold and windy.
The air is dense with fog, and by morning, all the outdoor furniture surfaces would be coated with a layer of moisture.
In the courtyard, someone had thrown fresh firewood into the bonfire, dimming the light it cast as the new logs smothered the flames.
The flickering firelight, refracting through the slowly swirling fog, seemed like the mesmerizing play of light and shadow in the night.
Among the shadows, a youth with a knife stood silently at the intersection of the thin mist and darkness, sizing up a lone thug outside the courtyard.
It was not until this moment that he understood what Ye Wan had said:
Life is indeed very fragile—a knife thrust into the heart, and no matter how important the person is, they would die.
But killing was not easy.
Because what you have to face is the most vicious thing in human affairs.
Qing Chen tied a stolen scarf over his face and remained silent.
The mobile signal atop the mountain was intermittent, but, to be cautious, the thugs all switched to police walkie-talkies clipped to their left chests.
Qing Chen silently counted, noting that every ten minutes, the thug would lower his head to press the talk button on his walkie-talkie and respond to something.
Suddenly, a gust of mountain wind rushed in, and the bonfire piled with firewood in the courtyard flared up brightly, illuminating the outside world as well.
At that moment, from his hiding spot in the corner, Qing Chen suddenly saw the thug outside the gate seem to notice something by the light of the fire. He looked confusedly in his direction and began to approach incrementally.
Qing Chen tensed.
However, just then, Li Tongyun appeared outside the inn’s main gate.
She stood timidly at the doorway and said to the thug, “Police uncle, have you seen my mother?”
The thug hesitated for a moment, “Your mother? I haven’t seen her, little girl. Come here, let the police uncle help you look for your mother, alright?”
In an instant, he sensed something was wrong!
Ambush!
The thug subconsciously raised his left hand to swing a baton to one side, while his right hand reached towards his waist, ready to draw his gun.
In the flickering shadow cast by the fire over the wall,
the youth had silently arrived beside him through the mist.
They were within close reach, a knife’s distance.
Suddenly, Qing Chen ducked to avoid the oncoming baton, twisting like a gust of wind in front of the thug.
Qing Chen’s dagger aimed for the thug’s left hand, which was about to draw his gun. Realizing he was too late to reach for his gun, he instinctively ducked.
The youth’s blade slashed downwards, and the thug instinctively reached down with his arms, trying to grab the youth’s hand.
But Qing Chen seemed to have anticipated this, stepping back slightly. The thug’s swiping left hand and baton hit nothing but air.
Not good!
The thug looked up in shock into the night.
But all he could see were the youth’s eyes, coldly staring at him.
At this moment of utter exertion, the vicious youth’s dagger pierced once again through the mist.
Through the gap between his arms.
“Breathe.”
Uncle Li Dong had said that in the battle between beasts, the most important thing is to breathe.
It’s the key to controlling your body’s oxygen levels and your alertness. Once you understand the significance of breathing, you will control yourself, and eventually everything else.
Be the hunter or the hunted, it’s your choice.
In the blink of an eye, the edge of Qing Chen’s scarf with its fire rune suddenly burst forth!
It was as if all his strength surged and converged on his right hand, then traveled to the tip of the knife, fiercely stabbing into the thug’s spleen.
The thug’s eyes widened in shock.
In that brief moment, what had happened?
The masked youth’s movements flowed smoothly, seamlessly, as if everything had been calculated beforehand. He knew the thug would swing his baton, knew he wouldn’t dare continue reaching for his gun under the feint, knew the trajectory of his arms flailing in confusion.
The youth had evaded everything, giving no chance for direct contact.
Only when the dagger pierced his spleen did they truly touch.
In this close-quarter battle of psychological manipulation, every move he made had been anticipated by the youth.
It was as if he had played right into the plot the youth had written.
The youth had scripted his ending long ago.