Starting as the young master of a medicine shop, he practiced swordsmanship for twenty years.

Chapter 404 No… Master, how come you're still alive?!
As night deepened and the city lights began to twinkle in Yingnan, the television screens in every household and the public display screens on the streets were all occupied by the same sudden text message in this quiet night.

In the video, a female announcer with a slightly stiff expression is delivering her message in a clear and articulate voice.

"Dear viewers, we are about to broadcast an emergency notice from the city. Due to the need for unscheduled safety maintenance on the main structure of the Yingnan Tower,..."
To ensure public safety, surrounding roads will be temporarily closed starting today. Relevant departments will work with professional teams to complete the repairs as quickly as possible.

We kindly request that all citizens and passing vehicles take alternative routes. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause…

The notice was worded in an official and calm tone, just like any other announcement, at most eliciting a few muttered comments about "why is it under maintenance again?"

In a secluded hideout somewhere in the city, Wei Feng might be swirling his wine glass, admiring the "masterpiece" he himself directed on the television screen.

He reveled in the twisted pleasure of cloaking bloodshed and violence in a veneer of civilization, and in the desire to control a city while keeping certain individuals on edge.

Nightfall draped the Yingnan Tower in a dark cloak, transforming this once dazzling city landmark into a chilling, unapproachable place.

The plaza below the tower is no longer as bustling as it used to be.

Conspicuous yellow warning tapes, like seals, tightly bound the entire area.

All roads leading to the base of the tower were blocked by heavy riot control vehicles and stern-faced guards.

This place was originally the beating heart of Yingnan City, a popular spot for tourists and locals to stroll and take photos.

However, after the vague "maintenance notice" was broadcast throughout the city early in the morning, a silent lockdown suddenly descended.

A large number of fully armed guards formed an impenetrable human wall, as if facing a formidable enemy.
Any curious glances that tried to get closer were ruthlessly blocked by a cold "On official business, maintenance is dangerous, please leave immediately."

A suffocating tension filled the air; even a fool could tell that something big was about to happen.

The guards pursed their lips, their fingers never leaving their equipment, their eyes constantly scanning the empty square and the towering top of the tower.

They were ordered to impose a blockade, but no one told them the truth behind the blockade.

This wariness of the unknown is more agonizing than facing danger head-on.

In the darkness beyond, media outlets, alerted by the news, arrived with telephoto lenses, attempting to penetrate this forbidden zone defined by power and secrecy, and capture even a sliver of the truth.

All signs indicate that this so-called "repair" hides a shocking secret.

The Yingnan Tower, a landmark that pierces the city's night sky with its 300-meter height, now resembles a cold, giant glass sword in the darkness.

Its entire transparent glass curtain wall should have been dazzling under the lights.

At this moment, it could only dimly reflect the flashing red and blue guard lights below the tower, revealing an ominous dark red and eerie blue hue.

Inside the tower, the eight sightseeing elevators that usually travel at high speeds are now heavily guarded.

The path to the top floor has been completely locked.

However, the atmosphere on the observation deck at the top of the tower was extremely frozen.

The guards who arrived first simply stood frozen in place, looking up in horror at the direction of the final spire.

It was as if they were witnessing an incredible sight far beyond their comprehension.

Some people unconsciously opened their mouths wide, completely unaware that cold sweat was sliding down their foreheads.

The wind howled at the top of the tower, but it couldn't dispel the suffocating silence.

Beneath the spire, two mangled figures swayed slowly in the cold wind.

Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen were no longer the imposing figures they once were; their clothes were tattered and their bodies were covered in wounds.

The congealed dark red bloodstains and the freshly seeping scarlet blood intertwined to form a gruesome pattern under the bright light.

The two men had their heads bowed, their breaths so weak that only the slight rise and fall of their chests could be seen, indicating that they were barely breathing.

The most shocking thing was the rope that bound them—it wasn't a thick safety cable, but a thin, transparent fishing line as thin as a harp string.

The thin thread dug deep into the flesh of their wrists, suspending their entire weight three hundred meters above the ground, a deathly height.

As soon as the night wind picks up, their bodies spin and sway uncontrollably.

The thin thread then emitted an almost inaudible creaking sound, as if it were about to snap completely at any moment.

The guards on the tower's top platform didn't dare to breathe loudly, or even move easily.

Any tiny tremor could be the last straw that breaks the camel's back, turning these two core members of the Lu family into victims falling to their deaths under the night sky.

This was a meticulously planned and brutal performance.

The perpetrators not only want to destroy the body, but also to torment the nerves of all witnesses, nailing the most primal fear to the highest point of the city.

However, that's not all.

At the very top of the rope, right where it connects to the spire, two miniature bombs, each the size of a fist, are clearly strapped to it.

Its outer shell reflects a cold, hard metallic luster under the light.

A tactical expert put down his binoculars, turned to the on-site commander with a pale face, and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Director Feng, the criminals claim to have installed multiple miniature cameras at key locations on the tower."

They are monitoring in real time...as long as any of our people make any attempt to approach, cut the ropes, or sniper chains..."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing, before adding with difficulty.

"They would detonate the bomb immediately, and at that time... even if the hostages were not killed by the fall, they would have no chance of surviving an explosion of that magnitude."

According to the expert team, the so-called "miniature" bomb was loaded with enough explosives to completely destroy the rope and the nearby body structure.

This is an unsolvable double dead end—fall or be shattered to pieces.

All the guards' eyes darted desperately between the two bombs, then drooped helplessly.

This was not a rescue, but a public execution orchestrated by the criminals.

"Beep beep beep—beep beep beep—"

A sharp, urgent electronic sound rang out, particularly jarring in the tense atmosphere of the observation deck.

This message didn't come from the command channel, but from the pocket of the on-site commander, Director Feng.

The tactical experts who were having a heated discussion around him fell silent instantly, and all eyes were on him.

Director Feng frowned, a hint of impatience flashing across his face as he was interrupted.

But when he reached for his personal cell phone and saw the caller ID flashing on the screen, his entire demeanor changed abruptly.

Director Feng's impatience vanished instantly, replaced by a conditioned reflex of respect that a subordinate would show to a superior, and even... a hint of barely perceptible tension.

He took a deep breath and raised his hand to stop everyone around him from speaking.

He then answered the phone in a slightly humble tone, completely different from when he was giving orders earlier.

"Hello, this is Feng Jianguo."

The unquestionable order came from the other end of the phone: "Old Feng, we just received a notice from above: everyone evacuate to the first floor immediately. Execute immediately."

"Evacuate to the first floor?" Director Feng subconsciously looked up at the two hanging figures at the top of the tower, his voice rising involuntarily: "But what about these two people?"
The bandits have explicitly warned that any unusual movement could detonate the bomb! If we evacuate now, wouldn't that mean...?

"The Lu family has arrived."

The person on the other end of the phone interrupted him; their tone was calm but carried an undeniable weight.

"You just need to follow my orders. Now, immediately, everyone evacuate to the first floor and wait for further instructions."

"This is not a discussion, it's an order."

As soon as he finished speaking, the phone was hung up, leaving only a busy tone.

Director Feng stood frozen in place, holding his phone.

He couldn't understand it—hanging above were the two most outstanding members of the third generation of the Lu family. Lu Guanghai was the overlord of the underground forces in Yingnan City, and Lu Guangchen was the CEO of "Golden Jade Cup".

Such an identity, such a precarious situation.

Logically, it should be left to those who have received professional training to handle this.

Director Feng quickly reviewed the contingency plan in his mind: "Even if the Lu family comes, do you think they know more about rescue than us professionals?"

He looked up at Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen high in the sky again, a complex emotion flashing across his face—confusion, relief, but more than anything, a deep sense of powerlessness.

Well, anyway, this matter has already exceeded the scope of what I can handle.

The people above have already spoken, what's the point of me still thinking nonsense here?

Even if the sky falls, there are tall people to hold it up. From this moment on, this case is no longer under my jurisdiction.

Whether the outcome is a tragedy or a miracle, the Lu family will bear the consequences alone.

When Director Feng picked up the communicator again, his voice had regained its usual calmness and authority, even carrying a hint of detachment as if it were none of his business.

"All units, immediately evacuate to the first-floor lobby and await further instructions. Repeat, evacuate immediately!"

This order caused a slight commotion and confusion among the subordinates.

But their strict discipline led them to act swiftly, and the once heavily guarded high-rise platform was soon deserted.

Only Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen remained, swaying in the wind three hundred meters above the ground.

In the eastern suburbs of Yingnan City, a forgotten cluster of unfinished buildings lies silently in the night.

Deep within the complex, beneath a bare building with only a concrete frame, lights were eerily lit.

On the wide, rough cement floor, several genuine leather sofas, clashing with the dilapidated surroundings, were casually placed.

In the middle were several crooked wooden tables, piled high with beer bottles and greasy leftover food containers, emitting the smell of overnight food.

The most eye-catching thing is the huge LCD TV.

A thick power line, as thick as a child's arm, extends from behind the television and connects to a roaring diesel generator in the corner, providing this ruin with a brutal and cheap source of energy.

The television screen was divided into several images, the clearest of which was the live view of the top floor of the Yingnan Tower, 300 meters above the ground.

The close-up shot of Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen, swaying helplessly in the wind like puppets with broken strings, was captured clearly by the high-definition camera.

Wei Feng was shirtless, his strong, rock-like muscles gleaming with an oily sheen in the dim light.

Those crisscrossing old scars, like coiled centipedes, silently tell the story of the cruelty of those fifteen years overseas.

He slumped lazily into the main sofa, one foot casually resting on the coffee table.

Wei Feng's gaze would occasionally fall on the two dying figures on the screen, a smile playing on his lips, a mixture of pleasure and cruelty in his eyes.

In the shadows behind him, the four masked henchmen stood motionless like statues.

"Brother Feng, the cops withdrew so decisively, could it be a trap?" A wiry, sharp-eyed subordinate stepped forward and asked in a low voice.

"Should we inform Qinghu to be careful?"

Qinghu was one of their members, and he was lying in ambush on the top floor of the building opposite Yingnan Tower with a "Black Star sniper rifle".

His sniper scope was constantly fixed on Lu Guangchen and Lu Guanghai.

Even if... even if the bomb fails, the sniper rifle can still kill Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen from a distance, ensuring absolute safety.

This backup plan is the ultimate guarantee that Wei Feng and his group dare to sit back and relax.

Wei Feng, who was slumped in the sofa, suddenly frowned.

His bronze-colored arm muscles instantly bulged and bulged, with veins throbbing like pythons, as if containing the power of a volcano about to erupt.

He disliked this feeling of being out of control.

"Hmph, they wouldn't dare..."

Before he could finish speaking, Wei Feng seemed to have caught something and suddenly turned his head to look outside the building at the dark, vacant concrete space.

Almost at the same time——

"Om-!!"

The roar of the engine grew louder as it approached, instantly shattering the silence of the night!

From all directions, rows of pure black anti-terrorism armored vehicles brutally smashed through the rubble and ruins along the way.

The powerful headlights on the roof of the car suddenly lit up, creating a breathtaking net of light that illuminated the entire first floor of the unfinished building as bright as day!
"Don't move! All of you, drop your weapons and lie down on the ground!"

"Assault team, take your positions!"

"The sniper team has locked onto the target!"

A cacophony of rapid footsteps, accompanied by icy shouts, surged from all directions.

Hundreds of elite guards, dressed in black combat uniforms with only their cold eyes visible beneath their helmets, emerged from behind the armored vehicles like ghosts.

They quickly deployed in standard tactical formations and completed the encirclement in an instant.

The dark muzzles of automatic rifles were precisely pointed at the five people in the sofa area.

Meanwhile, on the top floors of several taller, unfinished buildings nearby.

At the same time, more than ten fine infrared laser beams lit up, steadily pointing at the foreheads, hearts, and other vital areas of Wei Feng and his core subordinates.

That was the lock mark of a Barrett heavy sniper rifle, enough to tear them to shreds in an instant.

The situation is reversed instantly!

One word to describe it—impossible to escape!
Suddenly, the encirclement parted to the sides, creating a narrow passage.

All the gun barrels remained firmly locked on the five people in the center of the arena, and the air was so heavy it felt like it could drip water.

Footsteps sounded, unhurried and with a unique rhythm.

The newcomer was dressed in a gray traditional martial arts uniform that had been washed until it was slightly faded, and his figure was as upright as a pine tree.

Although his temples were gray and his face was etched with the marks of time, his eyes were surprisingly bright, like an ancient well containing thunder, calm yet full of power.

It was Lu Yulong, the owner of the Wanhe Guiliu Fist School.

He stopped, his gaze sweeping over the messy sofa area and then over the five black-clad henchmen who looked like they were facing a formidable enemy.

Finally, the camera focused on the shirtless, muscular man in the center of the sofa.

Faced with this desperate situation, which could break any ruthless bandit.

Instead of showing any panic, Wei Feng's face broke into a wide grin, a smile that was both incredibly bright and even bordered on manic joy.

He spread his arms as if embracing the critical moment, his voice booming, filled with undisguised sarcasm and deep-seated hatred:
"Master, after all these years, you are still as energetic and imposing as ever!"

Wei Feng paused deliberately, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a poisonous pleasure.

"No—you're still alive?!"

Upon hearing this, all the guards around instinctively pressed their fingers against the trigger.

The four henchmen tensed up instantly, like springs compressed to their limit.

Lu Yulong remained expressionless, simply gazing at Wei Feng with a deep look that seemed to pierce through fifteen years of time.

I saw the boy who used to sweat it out in the boxing gym, and I also saw the demon who is now consumed by hatred.

(End of this chapter)