A generation of soldiers begins with Feng Yuxiu traveling through time and space with Xu Sanduo

Top floor of Tung Ying Building, West Kowloon, Hong Kong.

The genuine leather executive chair sags into a deep arc. Jiang Tianyang leans back in the chair, his fingertips calloused as he rhythmically taps the mahogany conference table.

The desktop was so shiny it reflected the stiff profiles of the twelve directors in suits.

Everyone stood ramrod straight, their heads practically buried in their chests. No one dared to look up and meet the gaze of the man in the main seat, and even their breathing was shallow and light.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of top-quality Pu'er tea, the kind of tea cake that Jiang Tianyang usually used. It was old enough and had a mellow flavor, and it was hard for ordinary people to even get a sip.

But at this moment, the aroma of tea that filled the room became a death knell, and no one had the slightest interest in tasting the tea.

"It has been forty-eight hours."

Jiang Tianyang finally spoke, his voice completely calm, yet it made all the directors' hearts sink.

He stopped tapping and his gaze swept over the crowd.

"Hong Ye's body is almost cold, and you guys haven't found out a single thing?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a middle-aged director wearing gold-rimmed glasses and with a slightly protruding belly tensed up abruptly, frantically pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

He wiped his glasses with a handkerchief, leaving a few blurry streaks of water, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He stammered, "Mr. Jiang, the police... the police said they are investigating with all their might, and they told us to wait a little longer..."

"police?"

Jiang Tianyang suddenly chuckled softly, sending chills down everyone's spines.

He strolled slowly to the French windows, his fingers tracing the cold glass.

Jiang Tianyang's voice came back through the glass, "They collect so many charitable donations from us every year. And now they're telling me they're investigating us with all their might?"

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly turned around and grabbed the purple clay teapot on the table with lightning speed.

"boom!"

With a loud bang, the purple clay teapot exploded at the feet of the directors.

The scalding tea splashed everywhere, carrying tiny shards of porcelain. A few drops landed on the trouser leg of the director in the front row, scalding him so much that he shuddered, but gritted his teeth and didn't dare to utter a sound.

Fuck your mother's cunt!

Jiang Tianyang finally snapped, tearing off the silk tie around his neck.

He glanced around at the hunched-over directors, his eyes practically radiating coldness: "Have you all forgotten? What was I called before? Big Tung! Big Tung of Kowloon Walled City! Back in the day, who the hell dared to treat me like this?"

He strode to the end of the conference table and abruptly pulled open the mahogany cabinet in the corner.

The three hidden compartments on the inside of the cabinet popped open, revealing stacks of cash, several passports, and a dark-colored handgun.

Jiang Tianyang grabbed his pistol and slammed it on the table. The sound of metal clashing against wood was particularly jarring in the silent conference room.

All the directors shuddered, and one of the older ones even lost his balance, barely managing to stay upright by bracing himself on the edge of the table.

“Hong Ye is our key to Hollywood! He’s the key to Dongying’s transformation!” Jiang Tianyang’s fingers traced the smooth tabletop, finally stopping beside the pistol, his fingertips lightly tapping the barrel. “We spent three years and hundreds of millions of dollars to get him the second male lead in a Hollywood blockbuster. Once he’s established himself, Dongying can completely shake off its gray area and go straight! Now, the key is broken. Tell me, how do we open this door? Hmm?”

After a long silence, a younger director wearing an earring mustered his courage and cautiously spoke: "Mr. Jiang, it's not that we don't want to investigate, it's just that Mr. Hong Ye... he never lets us send anyone to follow him. He says that practicing martial arts requires quiet, and that having others around will disturb his breathing. He also says that with his skills, no one can hurt him..."

"A martial arts master?" Jiang Tianyang suddenly laughed. He slowly walked behind the director, bent down, and whispered, "Awei, do you know what era we live in?"

Ah Wei was so frightened that his whole body stiffened, and his lips trembled so much that he couldn't speak.

Jiang Tianyang straightened up and suddenly raised his voice, making people's eardrums hurt: "Hong Kong has returned! But this is still Hong Kong! The British are gone, and we still follow the rules here, but we value strength even more! Can a martial arts master stop a bullet? Huh? Don't you carry a gun? Don't you have people protecting you secretly? Do you have to wait until someone is dead before you tell me he's a martial arts master?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than Jiang Tianyang picked up a shard of broken purple clay teapot from the table.

"what!"

A piercing scream instantly shattered the silence of the conference room. Awei covered his right ear and fell backward, crashing heavily onto the carpet.

Blood gushed from between his fingers, quickly staining the carpet beneath him. He convulsed in pain, groaning in agony.

Jiang Tianyang casually tossed down a shard of porcelain, which landed with a crisp sound.

He took his phone out of his pocket, the screen lit up, and he immediately made a video call.

His movements were fluid and effortless, as if he had just casually swatted a fly.

After three rings, a serious, square face appeared on the screen, with prominent cheekbones and sharp eyes. It was Liao Zhizhong, Senior Superintendent of the Hong Kong Police Force.

He sat in his office, a police badge hanging on the wall behind him, the light illuminating his impeccably tailored police uniform.

"Mr. Jiang, it's so late, what can I do for you?" Liao Zhizhong's voice was polite and formulaic, but his eyes swept over the screen warily.

Jiang Tianyang didn't speak, but simply turned his phone camera to point at the pistol on the table and asked in a calm tone, "Superintendent Liao, I'd like to ask you, is it illegal for me to take out my gun and admire it now, as I possess a valid firearms license?"

Liao Zhizhong's expression froze for a moment: "Mr. Jiang is joking. Legally possessing a gun is your right. How could it be illegal?"

“Then let me ask you something else,” Jiang Tianyang turned the camera back, his face almost touching the screen, the coldness in his eyes could be seen through the screen, “I donate those millions every year so that you can recruit more models? Hong Ye has been dead for two days.”

"Mr. Jiang, please calm down. We are taking this case very seriously and have already set up a special task force..."

Before Liao Zhizhong could respond, Jiang Tianyang hung up the video call and casually tossed his phone onto the table.

The conference room fell into a deathly silence once again, with only Ah Wei's suppressed groans coming intermittently, which were particularly eerie.

Jiang Tianyang took a deep breath, straightened his suit cuffs, and his previous hostility seemed to vanish instantly, transforming him back into the gentle and elegant businessman he once was.

But no one dared to relax; everyone knew that this was the most terrifying Jiang Tianyang.

"Use all your connections and all your resources."

“Those within the harbor don’t have this ability, but those from the mainland… find every single non-local person in Hong Kong… use all the resources and connections! The Tung Ying Group isn’t just sitting around doing nothing!”

The board members all stood up and tiptoed out, not daring to even glance at Ah Wei on the ground.

As they reached the door, Jiang Tianyang suddenly spoke up, calling out to the last director with a buzz cut: "Ah Kun, wait a moment."

Ah Kun stiffened, turned around, and respectfully replied, "Mr. Jiang, what are your orders?"

"Help me arrange to have tea with the tycoon tomorrow." Jiang Tianyang lit a Cuban cigar, the smoke slowly billowing out. "Also... tell your men to stretch their muscles. They haven't moved in so long, their bones are probably rusted."

Ah Kun's expression changed instantly: "Mr. Jiang, you said...you said you would never touch those violent things again, and that you would lead Dongying to clean up its act and go ashore..."

“I’ve said a lot,” Jiang Tianyang said, taking a puff of his cigar. “But someone broke the rules first. Since he wants to play, I’ll play along to the end.”

-

-

In the backyard of an inconspicuous massage parlor in a narrow alley in Sham Shui Po.

"Who are you? What have I done to offend you? Please spare me..." The middle-aged man huddled in the corner, trembling all over. His right arm was twisted at an odd angle, the white bone piercing through the flesh, and blood dripped onto the ground, forming a small pool of blood.

His face was filled with fear, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the man before him. Weng Haisheng tilted his head, the scar on his face that stretched from his brow bone to his chin looking particularly gruesome in the dim light.

He kicked away the wreckage of the massage chair at his feet, scattering wooden fragments all over the floor with a crisp sound.

He strolled slowly up to the man, his voice hoarse yet somewhat nonchalant: "Originally, someone like you, a third-rate piece of trash, wasn't even worthy of my attention. I'm just here today to find a place to rest."

He crouched down, meeting the man's gaze at eye level, his eyes devoid of any emotion: "But when you tied up that little girl at the alley entrance today, your technique was quite professional. Have you practiced grappling?"

The man's pupils suddenly contracted, his face turned deathly pale, and his lips trembled as he stammered, "You..."

“My eyes aren’t blind.” Weng Haisheng stood up, his gaze sweeping over the messy backyard before finally settling on an iron gate behind the massage bed.

The door was made of brand-new stainless steel, which clashed with the surrounding dilapidated wooden structure, and the lock was also specially made.

"Is someone inside?" Weng Haisheng walked towards the iron gate, his steps slow.

Li Huo suddenly gritted his teeth, scrambled to his feet, grabbed a wrist-thick iron rod from behind a pillar with his left hand, and smashed it down on the back of Weng Haisheng's head with all his might!

He knew he was no match for them, so he could only fight with all his might.

But Weng Haisheng reacted incredibly quickly. Without even turning around, he suddenly lowered his body and kicked out with his right leg like a scorpion's tail, accurately striking Li Huo in the stomach.

"Crack!"

A clear cracking sound rang out, followed by a muffled thud.

Li Huo flew backward like a rag doll, crashing heavily into the wall before falling to the ground. His jaw was dislocated, blood gushed from his mouth, and his eyes instantly became unfocused.

Weng Haisheng turned around, picked up the iron rod from the ground, and walked step by step to Li Huo.

He pressed down on the top of the other person's head with his left hand and gripped the stick with his right.

"Pfft."

The iron rod pierced directly into Li Huo's chin and exited through his right eye socket, gushing out blood mixed with brain matter.

Li Huo didn't even utter a sound; her body twitched twice, and then she became completely still.

Then he went behind the counter and found an old-fashioned landline phone.

The call connected, and a sweet voice from the operator came through the receiver: "Hello, this is the emergency help hotline. How can I help you?"

“There was a kidnapping of a child and a dead person at the massage parlor in the back alley of 37 Fuk Wing Street, Sham Shui Po.”

He paused, then added, "By the way, I killed the dead man, you're welcome."

After saying that, he hung up the phone directly.

Weng Haisheng took out a small metal swallow from his pocket. The swallow was exquisitely crafted, with its wings spread out, and it looked very lifelike.

“The rules can’t be broken,” he patted the corpse’s face. “If you win, you have to leave something to remember us by.”

-

Lu Xuanxin pushed open the door to the backyard of the massage parlor, and a strong smell of blood hit her, making her frown involuntarily.

The sight before her made her gasp: the corpse was kneeling on the ground in a bizarre position, an iron rod piercing its head, and the blood on the ground had already begun to congeal.

"Officer Lu, the little girl has been taken to the hospital. The initial examination showed that she was only slightly anesthetized and is fine. She's awake now, and we're contacting her parents." A young man strode over, saluted, and reported urgently.

Lu Xuanxin nodded, squatted down beside the corpse, put on gloves, and carefully observed the twisted arm: "This technique... is clean and efficient, with great force, clearly the work of a trained practitioner."

"That's right, another martial arts expert." A familiar voice came from behind, tinged with a hint of helplessness.

Lu Xuanxin turned around and saw Xiahou Wu wearing a black mask and simple sportswear walking in quickly.

When the police officers around him saw him, they automatically made way for him.

"Master Xia, come and take a look." Lu Xuanxin said without turning his head, his gaze still fixed on the corpse.

Xiahou Wu squatted down and carefully examined the corpse's face. His brows gradually furrowed, and his eyes were filled with solemnity.

"You know him?" Lu Xuanxin keenly noticed the change in his expression and immediately asked.

“Li Huo, a grappler, used to run a martial arts school in Yau Ma Tei.” Xiahou Wu nodded, his tone tinged with disdain. “However, his school was a mess, and he later had his license revoked for molesting students, so his reputation is terrible. To be fair, his grappling skills are indeed quite good, especially his joint locks, which are very cunning.”

Lu Xuanxin stood up, hands on her hips, brows furrowed: "Didn't you say last time that the murderer only challenges masters from the same faction? Weapon master Hong Ye died before, and according to you, the next one should be grappling master Wang Zhe. But Wang Zhe has been missing for three days, how come another grappling master has appeared? Can the murderer just change his rules like that?"

Xiahou Wu did not answer, and continued to examine the body.

His fingers gently traced the body's surface, then suddenly he turned over Li Huo's left hand, his movements abruptly halting.

"What did you find?" Lu Xuanxin immediately leaned over.

Xiahou Wu quickly withdrew his hand, stood up, and winked at Lu Xuanxin: "Lu sir, let's talk in private."

The two walked to the quiet alleyway outside the shop.

Xiahou Wu took off his mask and opened his palm. A delicate metal swallow, stained with blood, lay in his palm, the patterns on its wings clearly visible.

"A swallow before the hall." Lu Xuanxin's pupils suddenly contracted, her tone grave. "Exactly the same as the one found in Hong Ye's villa?"

“They’re exactly the same, even the workmanship is identical.” Xiahou Wu lowered his voice. “But the difference is that Hong Ye’s was left at the scene, while this one was placed in the victim’s hand. The murderer was passing on a message.”

"What information?" Lu Xuanxin pressed.

Xiahou Wu's expression grew increasingly grave. "He's telling me that Wang Zhe is dead, and that Li Huo is just a substitute. And... he's openly provoking me."

Lu Xuanxin stared at the blood-stained swallow, her brows furrowing even more: "Why did he provoke you? Do you know each other?"

Xiahou Wu remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking, his tone tinged with self-mockery: "Because back then, I was the one who led the Foshan Martial Arts Association in cleaning up its own ranks. Scoundrels like Li Huo should have been dealt with by us martial arts people ourselves, cleaning up our own ranks and restoring the martial arts world to its former state. But now, a madman has beaten us to it and is acting on our behalf."

Xiahou Wu was simply being delusional; Weng Haisheng was just someone passing by.

"Inspector Lu, wouldn't you call this dark humor? A serial killer who specializes in killing scoundrels in the martial arts world, and he even leaves a souvenir after each murder, making him seem like a chivalrous hero from a martial arts novel. If you ignore his cruel methods of killing, people might even consider him a hero."

"A chivalrous knight would not pierce a person's eyes with an iron rod, nor would he disregard human life."

Lu Xuanxin said coldly, "Xiahou Wu, you'd better tell me everything you know, and stop hiding things. This is the fourth murder case already, and the media has already exploded. We can hardly contain it anymore."

Xiahou Wu looked at her tense profile, remained silent for a moment, and finally nodded: "Okay, I'll tell you everything I know. But you have to promise me that no matter what you find out, you can't act rashly. This murderer is more skilled than we imagined."

Lu Xuanxin raised an eyebrow: "What? Are you scared?"

"It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I cherish my life." Xiahou Wu spread his hands, his tone tinged with helplessness. "I want to live a few more years to properly study my martial arts. Besides, if I die, who will help you analyze the killer's methods? You can't exactly fight a martial arts master hand-to-hand, can you? That would be suicide."

Lu Xuanxin almost burst out laughing at his words, and her tense expression relaxed a bit: "Don't worry, I'm not that stupid. So, where do you start?"

Xiahou Wu narrowed his eyes and slowly said, "I don't know this method, but someone has done this before..."

"That man's name is Peng Qianwu..." (End of Chapter)