He left — but didn’t go straight to the cluster of shacks. Wei Lai lingered for a short while on the nearby street, playing the tourist: examining carved black wood sculptures, flipping through sheepskin paintings.

Until he saw Cen Jin come out — she was wrapped in the shama with only her eyes visible. She intercepted a young man and apparently said something to him; the man’s ears went crimson, and without daring to meet her eyes, he let himself be pulled inside.

He genuinely wasn’t sure whether to praise her or scold her when he got back.

Wei Lai exhaled, swept his gaze across the foot traffic on the street, paused for a moment, then let a slight curve form at the corner of his mouth — and locked onto a direction, breaking into a sudden sprint.

His eyes held only the target direction; everything else was an obstacle. He wove through people, skirted stalls, leaped over a donkey’s back, pushed off a wall to redirect, hurtled down a slope, and wove between boulders and trees for cover at every opportunity.

On the outskirts of this town in any direction, if you ran far enough, you were in the highlands — which was the best possible cover. Mountains, stone, water, trees: with his specialized training, no one could tail him in terrain like this.

Once he estimated he’d run far enough, he stopped beneath a tree and waited quietly for a moment, then climbed up. Using the cover of dense leaves, he took out his single-tube compact monocular and swept the surroundings.

In the field of view: only a solitary Walia ibex that had strayed from its herd, its long curved horns like the pheasant feather plumes worn by opera warriors in Peking opera.

Wei Lai retraced his bearing from the way he had come, then changed direction and doubled back. If his calculation was right, this route would bring him out at the rear of the shacks.

Everything went smoothly. Before reaching the shacks, he first spotted the white van Ji Ni had mentioned. Whoever they were, they had apparently tried to conceal it — they’d broken off a good number of branches and covered the vehicle. Wei Lai circled around it once, smashed a window, and stuck his head in to scan the interior. Not bad: there was rope and equipment inside that he could use.

He drew his knife and punctured three of the tires — he didn’t like finishing people off completely, so he left one.

He continued forward, stopping about thirty meters behind the shacks and pressing himself against a tree trunk. He trained the monocular on the red-roofed dwelling.

The window was open. People moved inside occasionally. Wei Lai locked the monocular onto that window and refused to let it go: he couldn’t always see their faces, but judging by build, height, and clothing color, he could confirm there were three men inside.

He turned it over in his mind.

Opening fire wasn’t the right approach — he could take out one at most, and that would only spook the others, making the real problem even harder to untangle.

Taking all three down at once wasn’t impossible, but the risk was high — and he had to go and pick up Cen Jin afterward. Not worth the gamble.

The most ideal outcome: draw them out one by one, isolate them, neutralize each in turn, no bloodshed, then tie them up and negotiate.

How to draw them out?

An opportunity presented itself almost insultingly easily. One of the men came out to relieve himself. He went around to the back of the shack, glanced at the window, and apparently decided the spot was insufficiently private — he walked further out, disappearing behind a large boulder.

I thank you, Wei Lai thought inwardly.

Out of humanitarian consideration, he waited for the man to finish before making his move. He burst out with the explosive speed of a leopard, iron knuckle dusters delivering a punishing blow to the man’s kidney area. The man’s face contorted in agony — but before he could make a sound, his head was shoved violently into the mud, his back pinned by a knee driving down on him, leaving him unable to draw breath.

It went so smoothly it was almost annoying. Wei Lai frowned.

Can we show some respect for someone of my caliber? The first group they’d sent had been amateurs. This was already the second time — couldn’t they find someone with at least a bit of substance?

——

Wei Lai kept a mental clock. Around the five-minute mark, a man inside called out: “What’s taking so long?” — clearly impatient with his comrade’s extended bathroom break.

In those same five minutes he had also moved quickly to complete everything else. He smeared a few streaks of wet mud across his face, then climbed swiftly into the trees. Light rain had begun to fall and the sky had darkened; the canopy’s cover made him invisible against the shadows. His monocular — the extension of his eyes — tracked two points only.

At close range: the first man he’d taken down was now bound and suspended from a tree, a strip of torn cloth stuffed in his mouth. His struggling only made his hanging body sway more helplessly in mid-air.

At distance: the little window told him everything. Around the seven-minute mark, Dao Ba appeared briefly in the opening, then quickly pulled back. The atmosphere inside had clearly grown tense. Another five minutes passed, then both remaining men slipped out cautiously.

Both were armed. Moving with excessive care, they advanced step by step toward the forest. From Wei Lai’s elevated position he could observe their movements fairly clearly: without a doubt, neither had received professional training. They couldn’t even manage basic combat positioning — the kind where each covers the other’s blind spot. Both had their guns trained on the forest ahead, leaving their backs completely exposed.

Wei Lai found himself missing Ke Ke Shu. With him to coordinate — one from the front, one from behind, a pair of precise shots — this battle would already be over. But he examined the group carefully and the person he thought of as “the AK” wasn’t among them. That meant the opposing organization had at least four members. Killing these small-timers would yield far less value than extracting information from them.

It seemed there were more people behind this. This matter couldn’t be fully resolved today, here.

Wei Lai held his breath and waited patiently.

The two men moved with hesitation, exchanging hand signals, approaching slowly. When they spotted the suspended man, they were visibly rattled and looked frantically in every direction.

This was the moment.

The tree Wei Lai was perched in was about two to three meters from the tree the man had been hung from — but higher up. He suddenly erupted, letting out a thunderous shout, and launched himself from height directly at the hanging tree.

Gunfire — bullets raked the tree he had just vacated, ripping through the violently swaying branches and leaves. Dao Ba’s voice rang out: “He’s moved to this tree!”

Guns swung to train on the new position — too late. Wei Lai had already used the tree canopy as a crashing launching point, grabbed the rope that held the suspended man, and slid rapidly down. By the time Dao Ba spotted him, Wei Lai had already closed the distance and thrown his weight into him, tackling him to the ground and rolling. When they came to a stop, the gun barrel was pressed firmly against the back of Dao Ba’s neck.

Only now did the remaining man think to swing his aim back around — but he couldn’t find a clear shot. Wei Lai was crouched behind Dao Ba, using him as a human shield.

Two seconds of stalemate. Wei Lai asked Dao Ba: “You’re really not going to tell your friend to put the gun down? How about this — we each fire once. Let’s see whose aim is better.”

He edged half a face out from behind Dao Ba and looked at the man with a grin: “Or would you like to go first?”

The man’s hand was shaking badly. Dao Ba screamed: “Put it down! Put it down!”

Dao Ba was clearly the leader. The man hesitated, then bent down and laid the gun at his feet.

“Kick it over.”

The man glanced at Dao Ba and, following the instruction, kicked it across. Wei Lai scooped it up quickly, racked the slide with one hand, let the chambered round fall, then flung the empty gun as far as he could.

Wei Lai patted Dao Ba down completely, confirming he was unarmed. Then he asked the other man: “Any other weapons on you?”

The man shook his head.

“Lift your shirt so I can see.”

The man pulled his shirt up halfway to show the front, then turned around. Wei Lai noticed that just above his waist on his left side was a tattoo.

Dao Ba suddenly said: “We figured it was you.”

Wei Lai answered: “Then you were certainly bold. Did you think bringing one extra person this time would be enough to bring me down?”

Dao Ba said: “Who told you I only brought one extra person?”

Wei Lai felt a cold alertness. He reacted instantly, yanking Dao Ba back and pressing himself against the side of a tree trunk, using it to shield his back.

Dao Ba said: “There were only three of us who entered this town as scouts — to gather information. The last time we were in trouble too; if there hadn’t been people waiting to receive us, we would have drowned at sea. Just now, when we sensed our companion had run into trouble, we stayed inside a while before coming out — do you think we spent that time notifying someone?”

Wei Lai remained highly attuned to every sound around him, but kept a smile on his face: “So the ‘AK’ didn’t come because he’s struggling — seawater in his lungs, admitted to hospital, is that it? We’re not fools. We know the gap in strength between us. We took such a hard knock at your hands.”

“So we spent a large sum of money and specifically hired someone else. Especially to deal with you. We hope the money was well spent.”

Before the last word had landed, Wei Lai suddenly felt something strike his shoulder — like being shoved lightly.

Damn it. He shoved Dao Ba away immediately and fired several shots toward the direction the impact had come from, then used the brief confusion to roll away rapidly and get behind a larger tree.

He looked down. There was a small hole in the fabric over his shoulder.

He’d been hit. The person Dao Ba had hired was apparently a sniper.

After a bullet strikes you, you don’t feel pain immediately. That’s why many soldiers on the battlefield don’t discover they’ve been hit until after the fight ends — the initial sensation is simply a light impact.

Wei Lai leaned against the tree trunk and waited. His shoulder gradually began to register sensation — a searing, radiating burn, and the hot, wet spread of blood. He made small, economical movements to draw his knife, cut and tear away a strip of clothing, and bind the wound in a rough field dressing.

Another shot. A heavy impact and a cry of pain.

The rope must have been cut — the suspended man had dropped. Wei Lai felt a cold dread spread through him.

A sniper was not something he was eager to test himself against. On the battlefield, these individuals were known as “invisible devils” or “single-soldier killing machines.” On a mission, they could lie motionless for five to six hours, drinking water and eating through tubes, minds ice-cold, their marksmanship extraordinary. Not every shot found its mark — but one statistic had been compiled: during the Vietnam War, the average soldier required over twenty rounds to kill one enemy combatant; a sniper needed an average of 1.3.

He had already taken one round. He had no appetite for further risk by leaving cover.

The sky was going dark — but that only favored the sniper: the rifle would have a night-vision scope and infrared targeting. Wei Lai regulated his breathing, in and out, and could feel that the cloth strip binding his wound was already soaked through with blood.

The tree trunk gave a faint shudder.

Wei Lai’s spine went rigid. The shooter was striking the tree — probably trying to startle him into exposing himself in panic.

He tightened his grip on the gun and reminded himself to hold steady.

The trunk shuddered again. Same spot.

In a flash of lightning-fast intuition, Wei Lai suddenly understood. His head jerked to the side instinctively — and almost simultaneously, the tree trunk was shot clean through. The spot where the bullet exited was precisely where the back of his neck had been pressed, one second earlier.

——

Cen Jin sat on the bed. The Desert Eagle lay beside her hand. The man sat hugging his knees in the corner, too afraid to move.

It was already the middle of the night.

About two hours ago, she had heard sounds from the courtyard, and Ji Ni’s voice raised in a loud commotion: “She’s gone! She really left! She gave me money and asked to trade clothes with me! She said someone was watching her, she had to get away, and her boyfriend would be waiting outside to meet her… Don’t ask me — I don’t know anything else!”

She had expected them to come bursting in. But after that, the courtyard gradually fell quiet.

Now it was even quieter.

Cen Jin looked at the man and smiled gently: “Don’t be afraid.”

“Stay with me until sunrise and I’ll pay you.”

The man shrank in on himself and nodded.

Cen Jin said: “He hasn’t come back. I’m already regretting it — I shouldn’t have chosen him as my bodyguard.”

The man was very tense and had no idea how to respond.

In the moonlight, tears suddenly rolled down Cen Jin’s face.

“Do you understand — when you’ve made a plan, there shouldn’t be any room for things to go wrong. No matter how you think about it, you shouldn’t have let something like this happen… Why aren’t you answering me? I’m talking to you, and you need to respond. Understand?”

Seeing her suddenly seize the gun, the man nodded frantically.

Cen Jin smiled again: “I’m going. I’m going to find him.”

She got up from the bed. The man stammered: “You… didn’t you say to wait until sunrise?”

Cen Jin said: “What the hell do you know!”

She reached for the door lock. Her hand was trembling beyond control. She drew it back, then gripped it again, her mouth repeating over and over in a murmur: “What the hell do you know.”

She finally made up her mind, wrenched the door open, and walked out two steps — then went completely rigid.

Wei Lai was standing not far away, braced against the wall. His breathing was heavy and labored, and the night wind carried the smell of damp earth and blood from his body.

He lifted his eyes to look at her. His voice was hoarse: “Did I ever tell you — only open the door when you hear my voice? Hmm?”