With a roar, Lao Dao’s car was bulldozed into the reed marsh pond by the Grand Cherokee.
Fortunately, rural ponds were usually shallow, and the car fell near the bank, in water barely over a meter deep. Before submersion, Lao Dao and Xing Shen had already opened the doors on the other side, using the momentum of the roll to splash noisily into the water.
As they entered the water, Xing Shen quietly gave the grasshopper’s back a gentle push: being small, it used the car body and water sounds as cover to silently slip into the nearby reeds, leaving only a faint wake on the dark water surface—anyone not paying attention would think it was just a fish passing below.
Xiong Hei sat calmly in his car, watching the two rather bedraggled figures emerge from the tilted vehicle in the water, using it as cover as they crouched cautiously.
There was a gun in the glove compartment, but Xiong Hei didn’t reach for it. Perhaps by nature, he didn’t much like using guns: Heaven had given him a towering physique, iron-like jaws, and strength far beyond normal humans—these were meant for tearing and crushing everything.
A gun? One bang and it’s over, no blood spatter, no satisfying sound of bones breaking. Very boring.
He got out and called to those in the pond: “Come on out! Water’s not cold, is it?”
Lao Dao started to move, but Xing Shen grabbed him: “I’ll go. You watch for an opportunity.”
Then, holding the car window, he stood up straight and waded forward two steps, groping his way.
Xiong Hei hadn’t expected such a refined-looking “educated” type, and seeing his fumbling, pitiful appearance, though suspicious, he couldn’t be sure if the man was blind: “Brother, why wear sunglasses in the dark?”
Xing Shen reached up and removed his sunglasses.
The headlights were bright enough, but standing in the water with darkness behind him, his features weren’t entirely clear.
Xiong Hei stepped forward twice, thinking, damn.
He was blind. Normal people’s eyes had clear black and white parts, and even severe myopia retained some “spirit” in the eyes, but this man’s eyes had none—not only were they completely lifeless, but the whites were covered with a light brownish, nearly transparent film that almost enclosed the black pupils.
A blind man—a blind man couldn’t have driven to chase him.
Xiong Hei’s wariness dropped significantly. He called out to Lao Dao, still hiding behind the car: “Brother, why send out a blind man to talk to me? Did you grow roots in the water—waiting for an invitation?”
His patience exhausted, he strode into the water. Xing Shen raised his hands to block him, but Xiong Hei barely noticed, casually shoving him aside as he grabbed for Lao Dao.
Xing Shen shouted harshly: “Grasshopper! Bite him!”
What? There was someone called “Grasshopper” lying in the ambush.
Xiong Hei’s heart jumped, and he reflexively looked back. The nearby reeds swayed, but nothing burst out.
Both Xing Shen and Lao Dao felt their scalps tingle. According to plan, the grasshopper should have leaped out now, clawing and biting at the man. Whether scratching his head or biting his arm, as long as it broke skin and flesh, the mission would be accomplished.
Where was the grasshopper? What had held it back?
But opportunity waits for no one. Lao Dao couldn’t spare time to think about the grasshopper. With a roar, he charged out, grabbing Xiong Hei’s legs and using all his strength to tackle forward. Xiong Hei was tall and broad, and standing in water, his footing wasn’t stable. Caught off guard by this attack, he crashed heavily into the water.
Lao Dao couldn’t see, but Xing Shen’s “eyes” worked better at night than during the day. He could see the grasshopper’s form, lighter in color than the surrounding reeds, fidgeting like an ant on a hot pan, wanting to rush out but cowering pathetically.
But he couldn’t worry about that now. Lao Dao and Xiong Hei were already fighting. Seeing Xiong Hei crash into the water, Xing Shen shouted: “Lao Dao, hold him down!”
As he spoke, he lunged forward, forcing Xiong Hei’s head back under as it tried to surface, while shouting again: “Grasshopper!”
Xiong Hei roared and thrashed underwater like a mad crocodile. Lao Dao was managing, his nearly 180 jin weight pressing down on Xiong Hei’s legs like an immovable meat hammer. But Xing Shen was struggling—he was already at a strength disadvantage, and Xiong Hei’s hands were still free.
His head thrashed wildly, nearly throwing Xing Shen’s body left and right, while his fists pounded upward chaotically. Xing Shen took an unexpected hit, blood, and qi churning in his chest, a wave of darkness flooding his “vision,” nearly making him cough blood, forcing him to loosen his grip.
With his head and face free, Xiong Hei’s spirit surged, but his legs were still trapped. Making a desperate decision, he planted his hands on the pond bottom and twisted violently—Lao Dao felt his grip slipping and, panicking, drew his military dagger and stabbed toward Xiong Hei’s back.
Meanwhile, Xing Shen recovered and again forced Xiong Hei’s head, which had briefly surfaced, back under the water.
Bubbles started rising from below. Xing Shen, breathing heavily, dared not let go.
Lao Dao’s mind went blank, feeling only how the body that had been as strong as a bull moments ago gradually grew still. The dagger’s handle suddenly felt scorching hot. He withdrew his hand as if electrified, and in the car’s headlights, saw thick, blood-scented darkness spreading across the water’s surface.
Xing Shen saw it too, though to him it was a color—a darker shade rising in the water’s center.
He let go.
The newly dead don’t float—the heavy bodies slowly sink into the water.
Lao Dao shuddered, stumbling back two steps to lean against the car: “Deep… Deep Brother, did I kill him?”
Xing Shen stood up, soaked from head to toe. As he walked toward shore, each step dragged heavily, his body feeling like lead: he had intended to knock the man unconscious and subdue him, never expecting the boundary between life and death to be crossed so quickly. In an instant, all life had left the man.
The grasshopper finally came over, seeming to know it had erred, cowering and repeatedly peering into the water.
Anger rose in Xing Shen’s heart, and he shouted: “What’s wrong with you!”
The grasshopper jumped back in fright, watching for a while before timidly approaching again.
Xing Shen suddenly remembered: “Where’s Yan Tuo?”
Lao Dao started—the fight had begun so suddenly and become so intense, that he’d completely forgotten about Yan Tuo.
He waded forward a few steps, anxiously looking into the distance: “He got out of the car at the start, then when the headlights came on… he disappeared. Shouldn’t have gone far.”
Xing Shen said: “I’ll take the grasshopper and look around nearby, you contact Uncle Jiang first…”
He gestured toward the center of the pond: “This needs to be cleaned up quickly. If someone stumbles upon it…”
Midway through speaking, he suddenly froze.
He saw a dark shadow rising behind Lao Dao, similar to his silhouette but a size larger as if light were casting his shadow onto a wall behind him.
But this was a pond—where had a wall suddenly appeared?
Lao Dao also sensed something wrong: there was a dripping sound behind him, not the splashing of something emerging forcefully from water, but the quiet drips of water falling from something that had risen silently.
He whirled around.
Too late.
Xing Shen saw the dark shape raise both fists like giant hammers, swinging left and right simultaneously toward Lao Dao’s head in the middle.
A strange dull sound hit his eardrums.
In his “vision,” Lao Dao’s head was crushed between the massive fists, almost unrecognizable in its original form.
A boom went off in Xing Shen’s head, as if those fists had struck his skull, and the next moment, he ran.
The grasshopper, like an agile dog, immediately followed, losing its ill-fitting children’s shoes as it ran. Lao Dao’s body stood rigid for a moment before falling stiffly into the water, sending up a large splash of whitish spray.
Xiong Hei steadied himself with one hand on the car while the other reached behind his back, grimacing as he yanked out the military dagger. The thing had three blood grooves—one stab made a triangular hole, truly nasty.
But did these idiots think such a small wound would take him down? He had just been playing dead.
Xiong Hei tossed away the dagger and strode up onto the bank.
***
After running about ten meters, Xing Shen suddenly felt a bright light flood behind him and heard an engine roar to life. When he quickly looked back, two particularly bright spots shone in the light—headlights, like watching tiger eyes.
The car charged straight toward him.
***
Yan Tuo hadn’t left. He had pretended to follow instructions, walking away for a while before quietly circling back.
This matched his usual approach: appearing to follow every instruction while secretly observing—many secrets and details had been collected this way. He and Lin Ling were like ants moving house, treasuring every scrap of secret that Lin Xi Rou’s people carelessly dropped, taking them back to their safe house to analyze meticulously under cover of night.
When he circled back, he had missed the first half of the action. Furthermore, distance and reed obstruction meant he only saw Xing Shen suddenly bolt from the bank while in the center of the water, Xiong Hei’s mortar-like fists crushed Lao Dao’s head from both sides.
Yan Tuo felt nauseous as if his head had taken the blow. While the skull was undoubtedly the hardest part of the human body, the wing points—where several skull plates meet, commonly known as the temples—were also its weakest spot. With Xiong Hei’s strength, if the blow had caught the temple, death would have been instant. Even if it hadn’t, this man’s future… was grim.
As someone Xiong Hei saw as the “educated” type, having received systematic modern education, Yan Tuo could never get used to such casual disregard for human life. Moreover, he felt a subtle kinship with Lin Xi Rou’s enemies—perhaps because the enemy of one’s enemy is a friend, which explained why he hadn’t particularly resented Ban Ya’s group even after their brutal treatment of him.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, the engine roared to life. Xiong Hei’s car was moving, charging straight at the fleeing man. Lin Ling’s assessment that Xiong Hei was “hot-tempered and vicious” wasn’t exaggerated—when provoked, his bestial nature overwhelmed his reason. Most people, after being scolded over Sister Hua’s incident, wouldn’t make a second mistake like Qiue Die, but not him. Once enraged, he’d make the same mistake three or four times.
Taking advantage of the car’s departure, Yan Tuo hurried out of the reeds and quietly waded into the water.
In the dim light from the half-submerged car’s dashboard, he could see Lao Dao’s face completely underwater, the back of his head upward, the body slowly sinking, arms occasionally twitching.
Yan Tuo slipped his arms under the body and, using the water’s buoyancy to keep his movements gentle, turned Lao Dao’s nose and mouth upward, then carried him to rest on the soft bank.
Checking for breath, there seemed to be some, but Yan Tuo dared not do more: he wasn’t a medical professional, and head injuries weren’t something to mess with carelessly.
Nearby, the car’s engine continued roaring like a mad fly. Yan Tuo glanced up and suddenly noticed two children’s shoes on the bank.
A child?
Yan Tuo’s heart jumped. He walked over in a few steps and picked up one shoe, reaching inside the shoe was new, couldn’t have been garbage left here long ago, and the inside was still warm—recently dropped.
He drew in a sharp breath: Damn, there was a child!
Now watching Xiong Hei’s car repeatedly charging and braking in the distance like a man-eating beast made it seem even more deranged.
Yan Tuo gritted his teeth and, using the reeds as cover, crouched down and hurried forward.
***
From over ten meters away, he saw Xing Shen barely roll past the wheels, then flip up and sprint toward the abandoned earthen houses in the opposite direction—in close combat, the car was ultimately too cumbersome compared to human agility, but even so, the situation remained perilous.
Xiong Hei was beside himself with excitement, laughing and cursing loudly in the driver’s seat. Whether he captured his prey alive no longer seemed important to him. He yanked the steering wheel, headlights locked onto the fleeing figure, in hot pursuit.
In the sweep of the headlights, Yan Tuo noticed a child in a striking blue and yellow hoodie flash past.
Yan Tuo’s palms were sweating, and even the gun grip was wet. He couldn’t openly save them, and besides, Xiong Hei was already Lin Xi Rou’s most formidable warrior—even adding himself wouldn’t make them a match for him.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Yan Tuo quickly left the area, and when far enough away, crouched down, cupped his hand around his phone’s receiver, and called Xiong Hei.
…
Just as Xiong Hei watched Xing Shen dash into the half-collapsed earthen house and was about to floor it to bulldoze both man and building, the phone under his seat suddenly rang.
Checking it, he saw it was Yan Tuo calling.
This kid should know better than to call when he was busy.
Xiong Hei casually answered.
The signal seemed poor on the other end, breaking up with wind noise. Yan Tuo’s voice was urgent, gasping violently, breathless: “Brother… Brother Xiong, I’m… I’m in trouble…”
Damn! What happened? Xiong Hei slammed on the brakes.
His first thought was: What a useless piece of trash! I handled two of them myself, cleared you a path to escape, and you still get into trouble? What a waste Lin Sister’s been raising!
Then suddenly he became alert: This was a ploy within a ploy, drawing the tiger away from the mountain? Using two people to keep him occupied while targeting Yan Tuo? No wonder they’d sent a blind man against him!
When dealing with people, you had to use your head!
Xiong Hei urgently asked: “Which direction did you go?”
Yan Tuo: “East… eastward…”
He quickly hung up there to create the illusion of urgent circumstances, and to avoid complications, even turned off his phone. Then he gently parted the reeds to watch what would happen.
As he predicted, within seconds, the Grand Cherokee reversed violently, then turned east and sped away.
Yan Tuo let out a long breath and collapsed in the reeds.
Worst case, he’d rough himself up a bit, get some scrapes and look disheveled. When he saw Xiong Hei again, he’d say he was indeed attacked but managed to handle it and escape successfully.
***
Xing Shen couldn’t quite explain why the car had gone from seeming possessed to suddenly leaving, only remembering vaguely hearing a phone ring.
He came around from behind the earthen house, his heart still pounding wildly—it would take time for his heart rate to calm down, he could only pant heavily.
The grasshopper came bouncing over, soaking wet.
Xing Shen “looked” around.
This was the advantage of these eyes—during the day, he might be a disadvantaged blind man, but at night, when there were no lights, most people were blind while he wasn’t.
He saw the dark shadows of reed clusters swaying gently in the blackness.
Turning, he saw the broad pond, its surface gleaming coldly.
Turning again, he saw in the distance, among sparse reeds in a low-lying area, a pale human silhouette standing up.
Someone there?
Xing Shen’s heart tightened, and then he remembered his earlier question to Lao Dao: “Where’s Yan Tuo?”
It couldn’t be a random passerby—any ordinary person would have fled such a scene, and this wasn’t how one watched for entertainment.
He called softly: “Grasshopper, someone’s here.”
The grasshopper had been “conditioned” to be very obedient—”someone’s here” meant it couldn’t let its face be seen. Noticing its hood had fallen off, it used its claws to pull it back up, carefully tucked its feet into its pant legs, and withdrew its hand claws.
***
Yan Tuo didn’t plan to linger—he had places to be. Let the man who’d escaped deal with this mess.
He turned east, scooping up some mud along the way to smear on his clothes and legs, then broke off some reed stalks and rubbed their broken ends across his cheeks and forehead.
Later, when he found a suitable spot, he’d roll in the dirt and get some soil in his hair to make it more convincing.
He’d barely gone a short distance when he heard rustling behind him. He whirled around, but the sound vanished.
This wild countryside wasn’t like the big city—nights were much darker. Plus, not wanting to draw attention and with his phone off, Yan Tuo was walking by starlight alone.
He really couldn’t see clearly.
Something wasn’t right. He steadied himself and continued forward.
The sound came again, rustling, soft and subtle.
He gripped his gun handle tightly and shouted: “Who’s there?”
From afar, Xing Shen confirmed: Yes, it was Yan Tuo’s voice. He’d never seen his face, but Jiang Bai Chuan had many video recordings from Yan Tuo’s interrogation—being blind made one very sensitive to voices, and even from a distance, he could hear clearly.
He had the right person.
He brought two curved fingers to his lips and gave a very low whistle.
The whistle was skillfully done, carried by the wind, almost indistinguishable from the wind itself to human ears.
Yan Tuo couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned on his phone, about to use the flashlight. Just as the screen lit up, he heard from the reeds what sounded like a child whimpering: “Uncle?”