Chapter Thirty-Six: Happy New Year

With a resounding bang, a spray of blood burst from the greasy man's head, and his lifeless body collapsed heavily atop Li Zihan. “Now is not the time. Whoever steps out of line dies, understand?” Li Zixin blew the smoke rising from the gun barrel, his face dark with menace. He strode over, roughly shoved aside the rapidly cooling corpse, and plopped himself down next to the terrified Li Zihan. Spreading his arms wide, he declared, “Little sister, don’t be afraid. With me here, no one will dare touch you.”

Bound off to the side, Zhao Qiang watched coldly. Of late, Li Zixin had grown all the more terrifying—he could kill without so much as blinking. That ruthless determination sent a chill even through Zhao Qiang. Among Li Zixin’s men, not one dared utter a word. Though a few faces betrayed a flicker of anger, none voiced a complaint, a testament to the ferocity of Li Zixin’s usual methods.

Then there was Wu Hai, the schemer, who seemed perfectly accustomed to these bloody affairs; not the slightest trace of surprise crossed his face. On the contrary, after seeing blood, excitement glimmered in his eyes. The two of them made a fine pair of villains. Zhao Qiang’s mind raced—this time, Li Zixin left him no opening whatsoever. He’d been stripped to his underclothes, bound tightly with layer after layer of duct tape, as if Li Zixin feared he might break free again.

Everyone else had been securely tied up as well, even the young Zhang Yu. The number of armed men guarding the hostages was fewer than before—clearly, the rest were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce as soon as Wei Tao appeared. If I were Wei Tao, Zhao Qiang thought, how would I break this stalemate?

Before long, a fierce gunfight erupted outside the supermarket. Judging from the sounds, Zhao Qiang realized that Cai Jiashu and his group had returned to reinforce them. But the exchange of fire was brief, abruptly cut short. Soon, two blood-soaked, severely wounded young soldiers were dragged inside by several burly men.

One of the men approached Li Zixin, his face drawn with distress. “Boss, we were ambushed—we lost a lot of brothers!” He gestured, and the injured soldiers were flung at Li Zixin’s feet.

“How many came?” Li Zixin pressed his boot to one soldier’s face, exhaling a plume of smoke as he spoke.

“It was too dark to see clearly—maybe seven or eight,” the man replied, his voice trembling with fear.

“What about the others?” Li Zixin’s expression remained unchanged.

The man’s face paled. “Apart from these two… the rest, they all got away.”

“All got away?” Li Zixin’s expression did not shift, but the pressure of his boot increased. “There were so many of you, and you couldn’t handle seven or eight men?”

With a sudden thud, the man dropped to his knees, terror etched on his face. “Boss, I was useless! I deserve to die, Boss—”

Before he could finish, another gunshot rang out. The kneeling man slumped over, disbelief frozen on his face as blood pooled beneath him.

“If you’re useless and deserve to die, then I’ll oblige you,” Li Zixin said flatly. He lounged back on the sofa, took a drag of his cigarette, and casually pointed at another of his men. “Drag this eyesore out. From now on, you’re in charge of Second Squad.”

The newly appointed squad leader shuddered violently, his face drained of color; sweat trickled down his forehead. Serving under a boss like this was pure torment.

No one noticed that as Li Zixin disciplined his men, someone had slipped a gleaming knife into Zhao Qiang’s hands. Wei Tao’s icy voice sounded in Zhao Qiang’s ear: “Your gear’s under the shelf behind you. Be ready.” Amid the chaos, Wei Tao had already slipped into the supermarket.

The new Second Squad leader gathered a few men and started hauling the body outside. They’d only gone halfway when they suddenly stopped—the group of henchmen instantly raised their guns.

But when they saw who was coming, Li Zixin burst into booming laughter. “Ha! Old Wei! Brother, I’ve missed you!”

Wei Tao snorted. “Li Zixin, I’m sure you’d rather see me dead.”

“Come now, Old Wei, don’t be so harsh. It’s the New Year—why would I wish you dead?” Li Zixin signaled his men, who lowered their weapons yet continued to surround Wei Tao.

“I’m here. Let them go,” Wei Tao said coldly.

With hostages in hand, Li Zixin was fearless. He pulled Wei Tao close. “What’s the rush? Old Wei, it’s been a long time. Let’s catch up first.”

Wei Tao shook off Li Zixin’s hand with an icy glare. “I have nothing to say to you. I’m here today for one reason—your life.”

Li Zixin let out a wild laugh. “My life? Just you?”

At a wave of his hand, his men aimed their guns at the hostages.

“Listen, Wei—let me make this clear. Normally, I might be wary of you. But right now, I have hostages. You kill me, and not one of those women will live!”

Wei Tao merely snorted, unimpressed by the threat. “I told you, today you die.”

Though furious, Li Zixin kept his composure—he held all the cards, after all. Slowly, he moved the gun away from Wei Tao’s head and sneered, “Let’s see if your mouth is harder than my fists.” He nodded to his men, who closed in and began to pummel Wei Tao.

Wei Tao did not fight back. Blow after blow rained down, and though years of training had made him resilient, he was soon battered and bruised.

Li Zixin, still unsatisfied, ordered his men to prop Wei Tao up and launched into another round of savage beating. “Arrogant, are you? Still want to talk tough?”

Raising his head, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Wei Tao’s eyes remained cold and sharp. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Li Zixin grinned viciously, unfazed by the taunt, but his blows became even more brutal.

“You might be tough, Wei—but what about them?” He spun around, grabbed Li Zihan by the hair, and dragged her in front of Wei Tao, his face growing more twisted.

A flicker of murderous intent flashed in Wei Tao’s eyes. Though he always played the cold, detached man, he was no fool—he knew exactly how Li Zihan felt. He wasn’t made of stone; the loss of his parents had simply taught him to keep his feelings tightly guarded. But seeing Li Zihan threatened was like having his reverse scale torn away—rage erupted within him.

“Happy New Year,” Wei Tao said quietly.

“What did you say?” Li Zixin looked puzzled, not having caught his words.

“Happy. New. Year.” Wei Tao enunciated each word, his voice ringing clear.