A dilapidated van drove through the desolate night.

The sounds of police sirens and flashing lights gradually faded into the distance. Ahead lay only endless mountains.

The Punishers had always been meticulous in their planning and rarely failed. While the police were like mantises hunting cicadas, they were the clever orioles. This hunt for Xing Jifu should have gone according to plan.

Yet it had ended in complete failure.

Yin Chen pressed his wounded shoulder, which throbbed with pain and continued to bleed. The dark, deep mountain landscape flew past his eyes as his face remained cold and expressionless.

This time, he had brought 8 Punishers with him—his last remaining elite members. The previous trap set by Yin Feng had already dealt them a heavy blow. Now, only two of his men remained alive.

Xing Jifu was unharmed, lying in the car with a gun pointed at him by one of the Punishers. This former overlord—the man Yin Chen had hated most for all these years, the one he had coldly watched being “cultivated” step by step into a criminal kingpin, the one who had finally been brought down when the time was ripe—was still breathing heavily, his eyes bloodshot, unable to calm down.

Yin Chen, despite his foul mood, suddenly smiled.

Indeed, who wouldn’t be shaken? At his age, Xing Jifu had thought he had it all—children, wealth to rival nations, ready for a peaceful retirement. Now his family was destroyed, his son had betrayed him, his daughter disowned him, his trusted subordinates were either dead or arrested by the police, and he had become a wanted criminal. Everything he had possessed had turned to nothing.

Over the years, Yin Chen had many opportunities to kill Xing Jifu. But killing him wasn’t enough—he wanted to watch his criminal empire crumble, to see him fall brutally from heaven to hell, to suffer endless torment. That was what Yin Chen had wanted. Now, he had finally seized this opportunity. Even though he had lost many men, the Punisher organization had other “seeds” nearly ready to ignite. And Xing Jifu had finally fallen into his hands.

In the silent van filled with the smell of blood and gunpowder, Yin Chen’s voice rang out with almost gentle tones: “Xing Jifu, from now on, you’d better behave. Your ‘good days’ are just beginning.”

Even Xing Jifu, who had weathered countless storms and could laugh in the face of death, felt a chill run down his spine at Yin Chen’s words. His breathing gradually steadied as he stared at the murky night scene outside the window before closing his eyes in pain.

Perhaps no one could have predicted that the crime lord who had once dominated Central China for half a lifetime, causing the police endless headaches, would meet such an end. The torture and atonement he was about to face were beyond even his imagination.

Yin Chen watched Xing Jifu’s reaction with satisfaction, though his expression grew solemn as he stared into the night ahead.

He wouldn’t let matters rest here.

Neither would Yin Feng, surely. Hadn’t his brother just suffered a major setback at his hands? With Yin Feng’s vengeful nature, he would likely hunt him like a fierce wolf from now on. Just like his brother did to others.

It was time for resolution—new grudges and old hatred, good and evil, sorrow and joy. What they each believed in, what they each despised.

That person was now his only remaining family.

His last remaining love—so evil yet so wise, so pure yet so determined.

Yin Chen thought that when heaven made them brothers, there must have been meaning to it. Making Yin Feng heaven’s chosen one, the sole recipient of their parents’ meager love, yet forever unable to escape the abyss in his heart; while letting Yin Chen taste all of life’s bitterness, rising from the ashes after being trampled into mud.

Either he would destroy him, or he would be destroyed by him.

The survivor would be the only truth.

A smile slowly spread across Yin Chen’s lips.

He believed that day would come soon.

—

At a local hospital in Guizhou.

Though it was late into the night, the hospital bustled like daytime. Stretcher after stretcher was wheeled into emergency rooms. Waves of medical staff transferred from other locations continued arriving at the hospital.

The dozens of injured police officers were actually in the minority. Most of the wounded were captured criminals. All needed immediate treatment.

However, several police officers were still in surgery, fighting for their lives.

This night seemed to have no end.

You Mingxu sat in the hallway outside the operating room, people running past her, stretchers being wheeled by. The short, urgent exchanges between doctors and nurses, the wounded’s cries of pain—all echoed around her.

She still wore the same clothes from earlier that day, now filthy beyond recognition, stained with blood, ash, and mud. Most of it was blood—Yin Feng’s, Jing Ping’s, Luo Yu’s, and even Yin Chen’s…

She appeared somewhat numb, sitting rigidly, unresponsive to anyone passing by.

Some nurses who passed noticed her condition and asked with concern: “Who are you? Why are you sitting here? Are you injured? Do you need treatment?”

You Mingxu replied: “I’m not injured. No treatment needed.” Her voice was low and hoarse, and the nurses left without another word.

You Mingxu had lost track of how long she had been sitting there.

The red surgery lights remained on. Yin Feng, Jing Ping, Xiao Yan, and Tu Ya had all been wheeled into different operating rooms, with none yet emerging. Fortunately, Xu Mengshan and other colleagues she knew, though all injured to varying degrees, were not critically wounded and had been moved to regular wards.

Someone came and sat beside her.

You Mingxu didn’t move a muscle.

The person was unusually quiet today, and after a while finally said: “Don’t worry, Teacher Yin has always been lucky—he won’t die. The others aren’t so easy to kill either.”

You Mingxu finally glanced at him. Even at a time like this, this person could still joke about his master, which helped ease You Mingxu’s mood slightly.

You Mingxu asked: “Where’s Guan Jun?”

Chen Feng’s face remained expressionless: “He’s downstairs, in the car, drinking with Old Nine.”

You Mingxu fell silent, turning to gaze out the window into the endless darkness beyond.

Chen Feng stayed quiet for a moment before saying: “Old Nine was just crazy, never thinking things through. But I understood quickly—if he felt his death was worthwhile, that’s what matters. For people like us, happiness and contentment don’t come from living safely and long, but from crossing that line in our hearts before death, atoning for our sins, and doing something that satisfies us. I bet Old Nine is happy even in the afterlife.”

You Mingxu responded with a simple “Mm.”

They fell into silence again.

Until the operating room doors opened, and Tu Ya was the first to be wheeled out. Both stood immediately. Tu Ya was completely wrapped in bandages, still unconscious. Chen Feng asked the doctor: “How is he?” The doctor replied: “No life-threatening danger, but we’ll continue monitoring. He’ll wake up tomorrow when the anesthesia wears off.”

Chen Feng and You Mingxu both sighed in relief. Chen Feng followed the doctor to Tu Ya’s ward, returning shortly to continue waiting with You Mingxu.

Xiao Yan was the second to emerge. He had been shot and his injuries were more severe than Tu Ya’s.