Lu Feifan walked out of Qin Fei’s tent.

He hadn’t even had the chance to make out what the sky above looked like when he heard the roar of a helicopter.

Yan Qiu was standing not far away.

Lu Feifan hurried over. “What’s going on? Can helicopters fly in now?”

“The signal tower was finished the day before yesterday. Yesterday, communication with the outside became smooth. Last night the flight path was set, and now, they’re here.”

“They,” of course, meant Ninth Master’s people.

Ninth Master was injured, and a large helicopter force had come to bring him back for the best possible treatment.

That was better this way.

Once back in Jiangzhou, perhaps, they’d be safe.

Lu Feifan had just let out a breath of relief.

But then his phone rang.

He had barely used this phone since arriving in Ying’an City.

The signal really had come through.

But the moment he saw the caller ID, his heart sank abruptly.

Just as the call was about to be cut off, he finally made up his mind and picked it up. “…Dad.”

…Lu Qihong arrived an hour later.

Before he arrived, his advance force had already come — ten helicopters in total.

Astonishingly, the same number as Lu Beicheng’s people.

Third Master was in his eleventh helicopter.

When the helicopters landed, his bodyguards stood in two full rows, guarding one side of the landing pad.

Lu Feifan stood outside the crowd, watching the man step down from the helicopter.

Before him came down two bodyguards.

After him, likewise two more.

Every single one of them looked like an expert.

All handpicked by Lu Qihong himself — each more formidable than the last, every one holding some kind of international championship title.

This was his father — the Lu family’s Third Master, Lu Beicheng’s third older brother, Lu Qihong.

No matter where he went, it was as though royalty were making an appearance — an overwhelming presence, dignified beyond compare.

Lu Qihong approached.

Lu Feifan put his thoughts aside and walked up to him, calling out, “Dad.”

“Where’s Beicheng?”

“Still in the tent. Old Ji should be preparing the arrangements for the transfer back to Jiangzhou.”

“Mm.” Lu Qihong gave an acknowledging sound. “Lead the way.”

Lu Feifan knew what he meant, but right now, it didn’t seem too convenient.

“Old Ji isn’t letting anyone in to see him.”

“Am I ‘anyone’?” Lu Qihong’s face darkened.

Lu Feifan looked helpless. “This time… I suppose you are.”

Lu Qihong nearly lost his temper.

“I’m his third older brother!” Not even allowed to see his own younger brother?

He ignored Lu Feifan and immediately had someone lead the way.

In truth, finding Lu Beicheng’s tent wasn’t hard — after all, the biggest, most comfortable tent in the entire camp had to belong to Ninth Master.

But now, outside Ninth Master’s tent, there were layers upon layers of bodyguards, inside and out.

Some had arrived earlier; others, like Lu Qihong, had only arrived today.

But looking at the scale of it now, without permission from those inside, an ordinary person truly couldn’t get through.

By the time Lu Qihong arrived, Ji Mingyu had already received word and came out to greet him. “Third Master.”

“What is the meaning of this? What’s A’Jiu’s condition right now?” Lu Qihong wanted to go in.

Ji Mingyu immediately stepped forward, calmly blocking his path. “Third Master…”

“Even you dare to stop me?” Lu Qihong’s face darkened. “Ji Mingyu, who do you think you are! Move aside!”

A mere assistant, and he dared block his way!

This old Ji — the longer he lived, the more he forgot his place. Did he not know that with just a flick of a finger, he could crush him dead?