“Do you recognize me?” Xu Fan moved his gloved hands with some surprise. “Looks like you had a friend who escaped from me… interesting.”
The man inside the helmet grinned wickedly.
“I… I…” Xu Yang trembled all over, even the hand holding the gun shaking violently. He had no idea why, having only come to capture a somewhat skilled cash cow, they had provoked such a formidable opponent.
If he had known they’d run into someone like the Butcher, he’d never have followed Captain Zhao here.
His panic visibly rattled the team, everyone on edge, sweating buckets, guns trained on Xu Fan with tense grips.
Some had heard of the Butcher’s reputation; others just sensed the danger from their leader’s reaction.
“I thought this mission would be tough, but it’s just a bunch of kids…” Xu Fan scanned the group, sounding almost disappointed.
“Ten seconds,” he mouthed.
Bang!!!
In a flash, his body lunged forward, a black shadow charging at them.Like an unstoppable rhino, he smashed into the center of their formation.
Before they could react, two black chains shot from his arms, whipping out like dark wings, sweeping several meters on both sides.
Pupupupu!
In an instant, four team members’ throats were slit, tracheas exposed, blood spraying.
Shock frozen on their faces, they didn’t even see what hit them before collapsing, strength gone.
The shadow pulled the chains back, dodged as Xu Yang fired wildly, and shrank—his over two-meter frame curling into a one-meter black ball, then leaping into the air, crashing between two men.
Woosh!
Unfurling, his arms snatched their heads and slammed them forward.
Bang!!!
A sickening crash.
Two skulls smashed against trees, bursting open—dead on impact.
The shadow jumped again, evading a hail of bullets, pouncing on the rest.
Pupupupu…
Like a rhino, his right shoulder plowed through each one.
In under ten seconds.
Only Xu Yang and a man clutching explosives—Monkey—remained on the slope.
Both shook, pale, drenched in sweat, too scared to move, staring at the now-still shadow.
“You… what the…!!?” Xu Yang stammered, gun aimed but useless, offering no comfort.
Over ten men—half a military squad, all pros, not street thugs—wiped out so fast…
But Xu Fan ignored him, turning as a voice crackled through his earpiece.
“Right, two more left,” he said gravely. “It’ll be over soon.”
He glanced at Xu Yang and Monkey, who looked ready to speak.
Too late.
A flash sparked from Xu Fan’s right hand—a hidden gun fired, striking Monkey’s explosives.
Boom!!!
Flames erupted, ballooning outward for meters.
An orange fireball swallowed Xu Yang and Monkey, erasing them.
The blaze caught nearby trees and leaves. When it faded, only charred remains lingered.
Xu Fan was gone, just the faint snap of twigs echoing from the woods.
---
Yu Hong heard the shouts, blasts, and crackling flames outside.
He waited until it quieted, then slid the shutter open a crack to peek out.
Flickering flames painted everything red. Hot gusts carried ash through the air.
‘A fire?’
Heat crept toward his garden.
‘Wait, my Luminous Stone grass—will it get torched?’
He considered checking, but the recent explosion stopped him.
‘What if there’s a fight out there and I stumble into it?’ He remembered today was when his hired expert, tipped off by Li Rushan, was due to arrive.
‘That blast—probably my guy clashing with the attackers’ backup. They used bombs?!’ A chill hit him. His polar bear suit couldn’t shrug off explosives—good thing he hadn’t gotten cocky. 𐍂ÃƝŐᛒЕ𐌔
‘Thank fuck I hired a pro instead of playing hero. Safety first.’
He decided to stay put.
If those attackers caught him now, weakened as he was, he might not hold up.
Settling in, Yu Hong dragged a stool to the door, sitting and occasionally glancing out.
Suddenly, his face tightened. He snapped the shutter shut, peering through a slit.
A group in dark green camo crept through the woods, moving fast.
Their leader wore a dark brown, high-tech bulletproof vest, far sleeker than the others’.
Seeing him, Yu Hong’s mind flashed to Zhao Zhenghong and Xu Yang—faces he’d seen before.
‘It’s one of them… they’re behind this!’ Cold dread sank in. He vowed to stay silent.
The group neared his yard, vaulting in. The front few held small silver boxes marked with black-and-white stripes and “DANGER” in bold.
“What the hell’s that?” Yu Hong’s gut twisted. Lockpicks? No—too many carried them.
Unease grew as they closed in.
Zhao Zhenghong, frowning, held a bomb, inching toward the wooden gate.
Silence hung heavy. After splitting from Xu Yang, he’d tracked the tire marks, but an explosion midway pulled him here.
Nothing—just a raging fire scorching the forest red. Too hot to approach.
Left with no choice, he led his team to the cave, planning to blast it open, grab anything valuable, and take the target.
But things had spiraled. Xu Yang likely hit the enemy, even used bombs.
He had to act fast—crack the door, check inside, then find Xu Yang.
With that, Zhao Zhenghong hustled, slapping the bomb onto the gate.
A black shadow flickered in the bomb’s silver reflection.
A familiar, gut-punching threat loomed from his left.
His face twisted. He hurled himself back.
Bang bang!
Two shots whizzed past where he’d stood.
Dropping the bomb, he flipped backward like a monkey, tumbling over ten meters, then braced against a tree.
Bang bang bang bang!!
His team caught on, firing toward the shots’ source.
Ammo spent, they roared, drawing knives, swords, and rods, surrounding the spot.
The first to charge froze mid-step, hoisted up as a huge hand grabbed his head and flung him skyward.
Whoosh!
He spun two meters up, then crashed down.
Thud!
Giant hands stabbed his gut like blades, ripping outward.
A wet crunch—he was torn in half, no scream, just blood.
Gore sprayed, staining trees, grass, and mud red amid the flames.
“Fucking hell!!!” Zhao Zhenghong, steadying himself, saw it—his eyes blazed.
He yanked a short knife from his arm and sprang, moving like a black ape, crossing ten meters to tackle the shadow that ripped his man apart.
Clang!!
Midair, an alloy glove snatched his knife hand.
Before him loomed a bear of a man—over two meters, arms thick as thighs.
Clad in armor, his spiked helmet smeared with blood, wild eyes glinted under red goggles.
“You’ve got some fight,” the man growled, mocking and cruel.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!!
Six teammates charged, roaring, swinging blades and rods at the giant.
With Zhao Zhenghong at the front, seven total boxed him in.
But—
“Retreat!!” Zhao Zhenghong’s face warped as he rolled back, dodging a sweeping black hand.
The others weren’t as quick.
Boom!
The hand lashed out, smashing a man’s head to pulp.
Two tried to flee; the giant grabbed their arms, hurling them into two others.
Four crumpled, down for good.
The last two gained distance, but the giant snatched a grindstone-sized rock and chucked it.
Boom! Boom!
Two thuds—chests caved, bodies mashed against a tree.
“Use the bombs!” Zhao Zhenghong screamed, veins bulging.
Half his team gone in seconds.
The survivors scattered, tossing portable bombs.
But before they landed, the giant vanished.
Zhao Zhenghong spun—three meters away, a massive shadow loomed.
Arms spread, it hopped, striking a crane-like pose.
A name flashed in his mind.
‘Iron Wing Splitting Sky? Crane Fist?!!’
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