Vol 3 – Chapter 9

Lao Dao parked the car at a distance that allowed for convenient observation, where they could see the entire Grand Cherokee.

He described the scene to Xing Shen: “The car is parked at the hotel entrance, but the driver hasn’t gotten out. Probably waiting to pick someone up.”

He added, puzzled: “Deep Brother, you haven’t caught any scent, so it’s not a Di Xiao… why is the grasshopper getting so agitated?”

By now, the grasshopper had calmed down. It probably sensed that the relative distance was fixed and the target was nearby—it clung to the right side window, its thin, gaunt back rising and falling slightly with each breath.

Xing Shen said: “I don’t know, but there must be a reason.”

Just as Lao Dao was about to say something, a phone rang.

He first checked his phone, but the screen was dark. Realizing it was Xing Shen’s phone, he quickly retrieved it from the armrest compartment, glanced at it, and looked back: “Deep Brother, it’s Uncle Jiang.”

Xing Shen nodded: “Answer it.”

Lao Dao pressed the answer button and passed the phone over.

Xing Shen’s eyes could handle ordinary daily tasks, but being blind did present many inconveniences: the mobile phone, which most people couldn’t live without day and night, was a hindrance to him—he could barely answer calls, but couldn’t make out screen content, so most of the time, his phone was kept with whoever was beside him.

Lao Dao couldn’t hear the conversation, but judging from Xing Shen’s expression, it wasn’t good news.

Sure enough, after the call ended, Xing Shen’s brows furrowed: “Uncle Jiang says the three people sent to Nan Ba Hou Tou have lost contact.”

Lao Dao was caught off guard: “What? When did this happen?”

“According to protocol, they were supposed to make contact at 8 AM and 2 PM. The last contact was at 8 PM last night. When they couldn’t reach them this morning, they thought it might be a poor signal or equipment failure. It’s just past 2 PM now, and still no contact. We can confirm something’s wrong.”

Lao Dao couldn’t believe it: “But they had someone from the Dog Clan with them!”

In his view, and not just his, everyone believed: having someone from the Dog Clan meant maximum safety because they could smell danger approaching and take preventive measures—the three-person team was sent for reconnaissance and was already being cautious. With a Dog Clan member as additional protection, it should have been doubly secure. How could they suddenly lose all contact?

Xing Shen’s expression darkened: “They might not have encountered a Di Xiao, but a Chang Gui instead.”

Chang Gui?

Lao Dao gritted his teeth in hatred. Chang Gui was like a traitor within the family, damn near impossible to guard against: Di Xiao, however terrifying, had a distinct scent and was easy to identify. People bitten or scratched by Di Xiao who couldn’t be saved would go mad like beasts, visible from far away. Only Chang Gui was exactly like humans, striking suddenly from behind, impossible to defend against.

It’s no exaggeration to say that over the past thousand years, the Chan Tou Army had lost more to Chang Gui than to Di Xiao. To make an imperfect comparison: while the enemy was hateful, traitors deserved death even more. That’s why the Chan Tou Army’s policy had always been: Di Xiao could be subdued, and Chang Gui must be killed immediately.

That meant Di Xiao could be tamed for their use, but Chang Gui was to be executed without exception.

But that was in ancient times. Try killing a Chang Gui now. In the eyes of the world, that would just be murder.

There was movement at the Grand Cherokee.

Someone came out from the lobby, greeted the Cherokee’s driver, and then opened the trunk themselves to put in their luggage.

To the uninformed, it would just look like a ride-share pickup—a scene that happened hundreds of times a day at the hotel entrance.

But Lao Dao’s blood rushed to his head, and he spat through gritted teeth: “Deep Brother, it’s that Chang Gui, Yan Tuo.”

***

Yan Tuo received a call and hurriedly packed his luggage to go downstairs.

Just as he left the hotel lobby, he saw Xiong Hei waving to him from inside the car.

Yan Tuo went straight over, put away his luggage, and then returned to sit in the passenger seat: “Why the sudden relocation?”

Xiong Hei said: “Sister Lin thought it over and wasn’t comfortable leaving you alone at the hotel, so she asked me to take you to A Peng’s place.”

A Peng was Xiong Hei’s subordinate.

Yan Tuo gave a casual sound of acknowledgment.

It was difficult to help Lin Xi Rou because she wasn’t short of people. After operating for so long, everything ran in a mature, orderly fashion. Even if he ground himself down to a needle, he couldn’t pierce this seamless iron plate.

Moreover, he couldn’t arouse her vigilance and suspicion: Why not just continue being the worry-free young master? Why suddenly want to help with her affairs? Why such keen interest in everything about her? What was the purpose?

He only had one person, one body, and couldn’t afford failure. Everything had to appear natural and reasonable: he couldn’t be a needle, but rather unnoticeable moisture and dampness, gradually attaching to the iron plate, taking root as rust, corroding inward layer by layer.

Only when Lin Xi Rou became as accustomed to his omnipresence as breathing, accustomed to counting him among her “trusted confidants,” could he gradually advance his infiltration.

He tried to remain passive around Lin Xi Rou, like that night at the farm when she didn’t call for him, he just stayed in the car without moving. But in front of people like Xiong Hei, he deliberately showed enthusiasm and ambition, seeking their conscious or unconscious support.

Last time, when Lin Xi Rou took people into the mountains, she had him stay on the outskirts to arrange pickup.

This time, he was still on the outskirts, but Lin Xi Rou sent someone to pick him up and take him to A Peng’s place—although A Peng wasn’t exactly a core figure, it was still closer to the secrets than where he had been.

So he was making progress, and needed to be even more careful.

The car started moving, and Yan Tuo opened the window a crack to look at the strip of blue sky through the gap.

Today, he had added Nie Jiu Luo as a friend, and Lin Xi Rou had sent someone to pick him up.

They seemed like small matters.

But it had taken him seven years to get to this point.

***

Xiong Hei was in a good mood, steering with one hand while tapping a rhythm on his thigh with the other, even humming a tune.

Yan Tuo glanced at him: “Is Lu Xian at A Peng’s place too?”

From his observation, “A Peng’s place” was similar to logistics and backup, and Lu Xian often stayed close by—and needing Lu Xian meant there would be fighting and injuries “up front.”

Xiong Hei nodded: “Perfect company for you.”

He knew his subordinates were all from the “street” background, while Lu Xian and Yan Tuo were similar in age and experience, both university graduates from an “educated” background, so they had more in common to talk about.

Yan Tuo continued making conversation: “Tomorrow’s the eighth. Are we returning that cripple to them?”

Xiong Hei snorted: “What do you think?”

Yan Tuo: “I don’t think so.”

Xiong Hei slapped his thigh: “Of course not! Come on, even kidnappers get ransom when returning hostages, we haven’t even made any demands yet—picking up the cripple on the eighth, anyone with a brain knows that’s impossible.”

Yan Tuo: “What conditions do you want to set?”

Xiong Hei’s mouth remained tight when it needed to be: “Well, that depends on Sister Lin’s intentions… Oh, interesting.”

He suddenly fixed his gaze on the side-view mirror, imperceptibly licking his lips.

Yan Tuo asked curiously: “What is it?”

Xiong Hei said: “There’s a car… Hold on, let me change lanes first.”

He had originally planned to go straight but turned the wheel to take a detour. It wasn’t exactly going in circles, but rather changing the destination to a particularly winding road.

After driving for about fifteen minutes, Xiong Hei stared at the rearview mirror, his face completely darkening: his face was already dark, but when it darkened further, the change in expression was particularly obvious.

Yan Tuo read the situation and had a rough idea: “Someone tailing us?”

Xiong Hei gestured toward the rearview mirror: “Normally I wouldn’t have noticed, but this car’s driver was cursed out by the car behind it before, I remember it. I remember it later illegally changed lanes and passed me, so why is it still following behind my car now?”

This couldn’t be just going the same way—same way before, still the same way after changing routes? Had they formed some kind of emotional attachment?

Yan Tuo pondered briefly: “Could they be after me? I was caught by Ban Ya’s people before, they’ve seen my face.”

Xiong Hei didn’t think so: “No, they encountered me first. Look, Yan Tuo…”

He pointed at a spot on the car’s GPS display: “I remember this area is quite remote, with a reed marsh and the villages around have all been relocated. Let’s both act natural, pretend we don’t know we’re being followed, and first confirm who they’re after—I’ll drop you off here, and I’ll drive on for a bit, we’ll stay in contact.”

“If the car follows me, I’ll send you A Peng’s address, you go there yourself. If it stops following me and comes after you, I’ll come back. Anyway, that area is remote and convenient for taking action. Got your gun? If not, I have one here.”

Yan Tuo sighed internally: Here they were just riding in the car, and trouble came again.

He nodded: “I have it. Let’s do it that way.”

In the distance ahead lay a patch of withering reed marsh. Though cold, it wasn’t cold enough—the marsh wasn’t completely frozen, with only symbolic patches of thin ice floating on the surface.

Further away stood several dilapidated houses, scattered randomly east and west—abandoned, with most of their roofs collapsed.

The night was falling fast, with only a strip of twilight lingering where day and night met at the horizon’s edge.

Lao Dao’s unease grew, and he told Xing Shen directly: tailing someone by car was easier in the city, where numerous vehicles, streets, and people provided natural cover. But on these rural roads, it was like looking for lice on a bald head—too conspicuous.

He suspected the targets were already alert.

At this point, the safest move would be to quickly overtake them and disappear, avoiding conflict while maintaining cover. But neither he nor Xing Shen could accept that: Sister Hua was dead, Qiue Die was missing, and now the three-person team at Nan Ba Hou Tou had lost contact. Five people’s fates are unknown—now that they’d finally encountered someone from the other side, they needed to capture whoever they could. Any card in hand was better than none.

Lao Dao’s throat went dry: “Deep Brother, what should we do?”

They couldn’t follow all the way—if the targets had noticed and were trying to lure them to their den for an ambush, that would be dangerous.

Xing Shen asked: “What’s the situation around us?”

Lao Dao: “It’s dark, no people, rural reed marsh, several abandoned houses. Deep Brother, you’re not thinking of… forcing an intercept?”

He felt uncertain about a direct intercept. The Dog Clan’s nose was unquestionable, but they weren’t good at fighting. He’d have to engage alone, one against two. If they were ordinary people, that would be one thing, but that driver was built like an iron tower—he doubted he could handle even a one-on-one.

Xing Shen said: “You’re afraid? Don’t we still have the grasshopper?”

Lao Dao was cautious: “Deep Brother, maybe I should tell Uncle Jiang, see if anyone’s nearby—if we fail, having a backup would give us more strength.”

There were no guaranteed wins in this world. Xing Shen gave a sound of agreement: “Do what you think is best.”

As he spoke, he bent down, one hand covering the grasshopper’s nape, moving close to its hooded head, whispering something.

Lao Dao multitasked, first sending their location, then hurriedly sending a voice message to Jiang Bai Chuan explaining the situation while accelerating to pursue the car ahead. Just as he sent the message, he looked up to see something happening: that car had stopped by the roadside, letting Yan Tuo out.

He quickly informed Xing Shen: “Yan Tuo got out of the car. Looks like they’re splitting up. Which one should we intercept?”

Xing Shen: “Why choose? Take them both.”

Lao Dao steeled himself, slammed the accelerator, and rushed forward. Before the Grand Cherokee could start moving, he cut across diagonally, blocking its path.

Night fell quickly as if in an instant, leaving only the faint gleam of thin ice in the reed marsh. Neither car had its lights on, like two fierce beasts facing each other in silence in the darkness, taut as drawn bowstrings.

***

Xiong Hei never expected that before he could implement his plan, the pursuers would block them so brazenly.

A car full of idiots, did they think he was some vegetarian?

First, he found it amusing, then rage began rising from his chest. Sitting still, he lowered his voice to speak to Yan Tuo standing by the car door: “Yan Tuo, you go first, leave this to me.”

Yan Tuo replied softly: “Brother Xiong, we’re in this together, let’s face it together.”

Xiong Hei said: “You’ll be in the way. I don’t care if I lose an arm or leg, but can you handle that? If you lose any parts, Sister Lin will blame me again. Quick, when I turn on the headlights, use the darkness beyond the light to escape! We’ll meet later.”

Yan Tuo didn’t insist further, only reminded him: “Brother Xiong, try to go easy.”

At the same time, in Lao Dao’s car, Jiang Bai Chuan’s call came through, and Lao Dao immediately put it on speaker.

Jiang Bai Chuan’s voice was low and urgent: “Xing Shen? Don’t! Without knowing their background, don’t make the first move…”

Before he could finish, the opposite car’s engine suddenly roared to life, headlights blazing, so bright they could barely keep their eyes open. Before Lao Dao could react, there was a thunderous crash as the Grand Cherokee rammed into the side of their car. But it didn’t stop there—the Cherokee, with full power engaged, acted like a bulldozer, forcibly pushing Lao Dao’s car toward the nearby reed marsh.

Jiang Bai Chuan shouted: “Xing Shen! Lao Dao!”

With the car body shaking violently, the phone had fallen under the seat, and no one could respond. Lao Dao gritted his teeth, trying to start the car, but his vehicle was smaller than the Cherokee, to begin with, and whether from the collision or some other problem, the tires just spun uselessly—they couldn’t get moving at all.

Lao Dao felt his whole body burning hot, sweat running down his spine.

Then he heard Xing Shen say: “Don’t panic. Let’s play weak first, let him get cocky.”

***

Northern nights came early, and with nightfall, the temperature dropped immediately. Add a wind, and even dogs would rather stay in their dens than venture out.

Nie Jiu Luo opened the newly delivered takeout and took out a box of needles.

She had given the delivery driver an extra tip to buy these while making his rounds.

The box was full of needles, gleaming silver and rattling when shaken. These days, fewer and fewer people know how to use needle and thread—in a few more years, it might become an antique skill.

Nie Jiu Luo opened the needle dispenser with a crack and shook out one needle.

She held the needle in her right hand, looking down at her left hand as if considering where best to insert it. Finally, looking away, she relied purely on feeling to lightly prick the base of her thumb.

When she looked down again, a small bead of blood had formed at the needle’s tip.

That would be enough. Nie Jiu Luo spread the blood along the needle’s length, put her thumb in her mouth to suck briefly, then took out her dagger. She laid the needle horizontally against it and began rubbing back and forth as if sharpening a knife.

After a while, she held up the needle to examine it carefully.

Yan Tuo had asked her if there was any secret method to make Dog Ya sleep longer.

Yes, this needle was it.

Tomorrow was the eighth, and they might need to relocate. Better to give this to Yan Tuo tonight.

She put the needle on the table and picked up her phone, opening the “burn after reading” app.

In her friend’s list, there were now two people: “That Side” and “Minor Character.”

Just as Nie Jiu Luo was about to click, her phone vibrated repeatedly as two messages came in from “That Side.”

She opened the first one.

It was a location screenshot with a place circled in red. She instantly memorized the place name—judging from the map, it was some distance from the city district but not too far, within an hour’s drive.

She opened the second message.

—Nie Er and Xing Shen encountered the enemy here and lost contact. You’re closest, hurry!

A third message arrived.

—Emergency! Prioritize protecting Xing Shen.

Nie Jiu Luo dropped her phone and stood up, both hands going to her hair, quickly gathering it into a high ponytail.

It was her turn to enter the stage.

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