Chapter 36: I Am the Real Culprit, So Asking for Double Pay Is Only Reasonable

Just as Yellow-Hair had exerted psychological pressure on him earlier—though it proved futile—Feng Mu now intended to return the favor in full measure. It wasn’t out of petty spite; he simply wanted to provoke Yellow-Hair once more. When testing new techniques, one needs a decent opponent to maximize the effect and ensure the experience points are sufficient.

Having crippled Red-Hair with a single finger, Feng Mu focused his full attention on Yellow-Hair. Feeling he had the situation well in hand, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. The pressure Yellow-Hair exerted was less than half of what Zhang Tong had brought to bear that night. It wasn't that Yellow-Hair was too weak, but rather...

"The Crane Claw technique is powerful enough, and I haven't made any mistakes today. By not retreating a single step, my strikes have become fierce and ruthless. I am simply far more formidable than I was that night!"

Feng Mu reflected mid-battle, and this realization made his attacks even more savage.

Yellow-Hair felt a chill run through his heart. His one remaining eye stared wide in horror, while the empty socket of the other was a hideous, gaping wound, with half a shattered eyeball embedded in the bone. Was he not fighting fiercely enough? No, he was fighting with the ferocity of a cornered beast, yet he still couldn't match Feng Mu’s viciousness.

It wasn't cowardice that held him back, but rather...

Yellow-Hair gritted his teeth and took a claw strike from Feng Mu head-on. A large chunk of flesh was gouged from his stomach, and his foul-smelling intestines threatened to spill out. At this cost, he unleashed his short-blade technique, stabbing three times in the blink of an eye—aiming for the groin, the navel, and the heart.

The first strike was parried by a knee-strike, leaving only a shallow gash on Feng Mu’s knee that didn't even reach the bone. The second was deflected by a finger-hook, which sliced a layer of flesh off the opponent’s index finger. Yet, the exposed bone of the hook only seemed to bite back with greater ferocity—it was truly hellish. Finally, the third strike landed unimpeded, but it felt like stabbing into an iron shell; sparks actually flew from beneath the torn skin.

What could Yellow-Hair do? He had traded injury for injury, only to find he was the one truly bleeding while his opponent, despite the fake wounds, remained as vigorous as a dragon and yet still looked dissatisfied. How could he fight this? Yellow-Hair felt a sense of utter despair. Was it even a question of ferocity? His opponent was simply relying on high defense and thick health to cheat his way through. Could he retreat? Did he even dare to?

Feng Mu didn't see it that way. He felt he had grasped the essence of combat: as long as he didn't retreat and kept pressing the attack with lethal intent, it would be the others who retreated.

"Being dangerous means that as long as I am ferocious enough, the danger belongs to everyone else!"

Feng Mu’s eyes grew brighter and more intense with every strike. He became increasingly emboldened, his belief firming, and he could feel his combat experience skyrocketing like a rocket.

"Don't stop, don't retreat, come on!"

"Retreating means death. You have to charge and kill me to survive. The closer you are to death, the more you must fight for your life!"

Covered in his own blood and stained red, Yellow-Hair listened to the fierce, surging words of his opponent and felt completely numb. *Is he... is he cheering me on? He’s actually a pretty good guy... the hell he is!*

In the next second, fury surged in Yellow-Hair’s heart and malice took root in his gut. He tossed his blade aside, spread his arms, and declared with a death-defying air, "I'm done fighting. Just kill me."

Feng Mu, deep in the flow of battle, froze, his expression as if he’d swallowed a fly. *Seriously? Your will to live is pathetic. Look at Red-Hair over there—his hamstrings are hooked, he’s down to one hand, and he’s still desperately crawling away. He’s already ten meters out!*

Feeling let down, Feng Mu executed the thirteenth form of the Crane Claw technique—the finisher, Heart-Shattering Claw—and executed the Yellow-Hair whose "posture bar" had collapsed.

In the quiet of the night, the wind carried the sound of a heart being crushed by five fingers, with fluids oozing through the gaps. The sound made Red-Hair stop his crawling and look back in terror.

In the distance, a body slumped straight to the ground with a dull thud. Nearby, a pair of blood-stained canvas shoes came into view, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Red-Hair froze, feeling as if his own heart might burst. He stiffened his neck and watched as Feng Mu, his hands dripping with blood, crouched down.

"You have a stronger will to live than that yellow-haired guy," Feng Mu remarked.

Red-Hair wanted to beg for mercy, but his throat felt clogged, and he didn't know what to say. Feng Mu reached out, fished a phone from Red-Hair’s pocket, and held it out to him. "Call your Brother Bin. I have something to discuss with him."

Red-Hair struggled to turn over and dialed a number. As the phone rang, he mustered the courage to ask, "We only do as Brother Bin says. Can you spare my life?"

Feng Mu didn't like to lie, so he answered honestly, "Depends on how you perform."

Red-Hair grasped at the hope like a drowning man clutching a straw. The call connected.

"Brother Bin, it’s me, Red-Hair," he said, his voice hoarse and trembling. "Someone wants to speak with you."

At the Blood Rose Bar, Ma Bin listened to the tremor in the voice on the other end, feeling slightly startled. He pulled out the list he had set aside and scanned it. He confirmed that the person Red-Hair had been tailing for the past two days was named Feng Mu.

"Who wants to speak to me?" Ma Bin asked, his tone devoid of emotion.

Red-Hair swallowed hard, staring blankly at Feng Mu, unsure whether to tell the truth or a lie. Feng Mu adjusted his throat muscles to squeeze his vocal cords, giving his voice a raspy edge. "Why are you looking at me? Tell your Brother Bin who I am."

Red-Hair stammered into the receiver, "Brother Bin... it’s Feng Mu."

There was a second of silence on the line before Ma Bin asked, "What about Yellow-Hair?"

"He's dead!"

"Oh."

Another silence followed. Ma Bin didn't speak, Red-Hair didn't know what to say, and Feng Mu waited patiently. On the other end, Ma Bin’s pupils contracted slightly. He knew the personality of every lackey in the gang. Yellow-Hair was a thorough villain who didn't fear death; if it had been Yellow-Hair on the line, he might have believed the story. But Red-Hair was a coward who feared death and bullied the weak; not a single word from him could be trusted, and in fact, everything should be interpreted in reverse.

*They went to track Feng Mu, and then Feng Mu killed Yellow-Hair and forced Red-Hair to call me to tell me the killer is Feng Mu? Is Feng Mu brain-damaged, or does he think I’m an idiot?*

After a long pause, Ma Bin said, "A clumsy lie. Who exactly are you?"

Hearing the voice on the phone, Red-Hair looked stunned. Feng Mu curled his lips and rasped, "I am Feng Mu."

He then pressed his skinless finger-bones against Red-Hair’s neck, as if fearing the other side wouldn't believe him. Red-Hair was terrified, his voice distorting into a sob. "Brother Bin, it really is Feng Mu! I’m not lying!"

Little did he know, the more Red-Hair cried, the less Ma Bin believed it. Ma Bin sneered, "If you don't tell me who you are, I’m hanging up."

Feng Mu snatched the phone from Red-Hair’s hand and sighed. "Hey, nobody believes the truth these days."

Ma Bin remained silent.

*Perfect.* Feng Mu had been cleared of suspicion by everyone’s shared "tacit understanding."

Feng Mu let out a long sigh and spoke the truth. "Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I heard you’ve been sending people everywhere to look for me?"

Ma Bin straightened up on the sofa, frowning. "Who are you?"

Feng Mu chuckled coldly. "I killed Zheng Hang, and I slaughtered Zhang Tong. Who do you think I am?"

Ma Bin had already vaguely guessed it, so he wasn't surprised. "Bold. The Green Wolf Gang is looking for you, yet you dare call me. What do you want?"

Feng Mu glanced at Red-Hair, whose brain had clearly short-circuited into a stupor, and continued, "I want the same thing as you, Brother Bin."

"And what do I want? I only want to catch you."

Feng Mu’s tone was contemptuous. "Stop acting. What you really want is for Zheng Si to die. What a coincidence—I want Zheng Si to die, too."

Red-Hair felt as if he were hearing a terrifying secret; he wished he could bury his ears in the dirt. On the other end, Ma Bin’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. He denied it instantly. "You’re slandering me. I am loyal to Boss Zheng."

"Heh," Feng Mu curled his lip in disdain. "Then should I call Zheng Si?"

"Why would Boss Zheng believe you?"

"I’ll call from Zheng Hang’s phone. Then he’ll believe I’m the real killer, and he’ll know that your list is full of people with ulterior motives."

Ma Bin gripped the phone tightly, realizing the person on the other end knew far more than he had anticipated. His tone turned cold. "You are the murderer who killed Zheng Hang, and I am the second-in-command of the Green Wolf Gang. Who will Boss Zheng believe—you or me?"

Feng Mu’s tone remained calm. "It doesn't matter. I don't need him to believe me; I just need him to stop believing you. Well? Should I make the call now?"

A deathly silence ensued. A full half-minute later, a voice came through the phone: "We can cooperate. I can help you kill Zheng Si to avenge Wang Wei."

The offer was a probe, but Feng Mu did not deny the connection to Wang Wei. He spoke in a chilling tone, as if he were genuinely seeking revenge for her: "Zheng Si must die, of course. But besides that, I also want..."

*As if,* Feng Mu thought. Did he care if Zheng Si died? Well, yes, it was better if he died. But Ma Bin had already set the stage; Zheng Si was destined to be taken out by Ma Bin’s schemes. Since that was the case, this was the result of a team effort—how could it be counted as part of his reward?

*Even if you built the stage, I’ve joined the performance. And since I’m playing two roles at once, it’s only reasonable to ask for an exorbitant fee.*

With this in mind, Feng Mu made an outrageous demand, one that made Ma Bin want to crush the phone in his hand.