Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

The immense impact caused Chen Feng to catch his breath for a moment. But his powerful willpower immediately suppressed all emotional fluctuations.

Now is not the time to be excited! We're still deep in enemy territory!

Without hesitation, he chose "yes" in his mind.

[Consumes 100 system points.]

[Marching Backpack Module Unlocked...]

[Unlocked successfully.]

[Module functionality loading...]

Loading complete.

[The host can access the [Marching Backpack] interface through their consciousness to view the current list of exchangeable/replenishable equipment, and exchange it using system points or corresponding resources. Please refer to the specific list and exchange rates yourself.]

[Note: The equipment provided in this module will be as compatible as possible with the current era and the host's potential acquisition channels to avoid unnecessary spatiotemporal logic conflicts.]

Enjoy using it!

A stream of information flashed by.

Chen Feng didn't have time to carefully examine the newly unlocked module. All he knew was that the ammunition problem now had a chance of being solved! It might even be solved outright!

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He glanced one last time at the dock, where people were still "busy" moving things and had no idea about the mysterious disappearance of their weapons. Then, he completely disappeared into the darkness and sped away like a ghost along the pre-planned, most concealed route.

The night wind blew across the dock, carrying the salty taste of the sea and a faint smell of gunpowder.

In the warehouse, the accountant finally sensed something was amiss. He stopped writing, rubbed his sore eyes, and walked to the wooden crates that had already been moved in and stacked, preparing to count their quantity.

When he counted the corner where there should have been a dozen or so boxes of goods, he froze.

His eyes widened, and he counted again in disbelief.

empty.

That place should be full!

Now, all that's left are traces of dust left on the ground from the moving process.

"Where...where is the goods?!" the accountant cried out in shock, his voice trembling.

The guards at the gate and several porters who had just put down their boxes turned around at the sound and saw the accountant pointing to the empty corner of the wall with a look of horror on his face.

"What is it?" The guard chief frowned and walked over.

"The goods! Those goods are gone! More than a dozen boxes! They were clearly moved in and placed here!" The accountant's voice trembled.

"You're crazy! Are you seeing things?" the guard chief cursed, but when he walked to the corner and saw the glaring emptiness, his face turned deathly pale.

"Search! Search the warehouse right now! See if anyone has sneaked in!" he roared hoarsely, his voice distorted with shock and rage.

The tranquility of the dock was shattered. Shouts, running, and rummaging filled the air. Searchlights began to sweep wildly, and more people poured out from the shadows.

However, all of this is no longer relevant to Chen Feng.

He had already disappeared into the intricate streets and alleys of Kowloon Peninsula, carrying thirteen boxes of unexpectedly acquired weapons and the newly unlocked "Marching Backpack Module" full of unknown possibilities, and hurried toward his simple but safe place of refuge on Fuk Wing Street.

The darkness concealed the hunter's tracks and also hid a theft that was about to cause an even bigger upheaval.

In Chen Feng's hands, he finally grasped a few real, tangible forces that could break the deadlock.

Back on the third floor of No. 132 Furong Street, Chen Feng locked the door, propped the table up, and leaned against the cold door before allowing himself to exhale a long, silent breath.

His taut nerves suddenly relaxed, followed by a sharp dizziness and indescribable mental exhaustion. The breathtaking operation at the dock just now—the highly concentrated mental control, the extreme tension of stealth and concealment, and the huge shock of the system notification at the end—had almost drained his mind. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, his temples throbbed, and his vision even blurred.

He slid down onto the floor, leaning against the door, and gasped for breath, forcing himself to stay alert. Now was not the time to relax; he had to deal with his "harvest" immediately and make sure Xiaoyu was safe.

The bedroom door was tightly closed, and Xiaoyu's even breathing could be heard from inside. Thankfully, her younger sister was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of everything that had happened that night.

Chen Feng struggled to his feet, tiptoed to the bedroom door, listened carefully to confirm, and then went to the kitchen, turned on the tap, and splashed the icy water hard on his face. The biting cold made him shiver, and his muddled mind cleared up a bit.

He remembered the "Energy Recovery Potion (Basic)" in the system's medical kit. He had been reluctant to use it before, but now was the perfect time.

His consciousness sank into his personal space, where the pale blue ampoule lay quietly in his medical kit. He took it out, pried open the cap, and poured the slightly viscous, colorless, and odorless liquid inside into his mouth without hesitation.

The medicine entered my throat, carrying a strange coolness. Almost instantly, a clear stream, like a sweet spring, surged from the depths of my brain, quickly washing away all fatigue and dizziness. My eyes regained their clarity and sharpness, and my body seemed to be filled with strength again. Even the faint throbbing pain from overusing my consciousness earlier disappeared without a trace.

"Great stuff!" Chen Feng thought to himself. The recovery effect of this potion was even better than expected; it was truly a lifesaver in this critical moment.

With his energy restored, he immediately turned his attention to his biggest achievement of the night.

First, there were the thirteen heavy wooden crates that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They were currently piled haphazardly in the ten-cubic-meter personal space, almost filling every inch, leaving only a pitiful gap. With the use of the "energy recovery potion," the medical kit and other miscellaneous items in the corner of the space seemed to have been automatically "organized" to a more peripheral position, appearing somewhat tidier, but still incredibly crowded.

With a thought, Chen Feng focused his consciousness on one of the wooden boxes.

The wooden crate was made of common pine planks nailed together, covered with waterproof dark tarpaulin, and the edges were reinforced with sheet metal. A blurry mark, possibly a code or batch number, was painted in red on the lid, along with a skull and crossbones hazard symbol. The crate was heavy; even with Chen Feng's current strength, he estimated it would take some effort to move it.

He tried to open the box with his mind—but failed. It seemed that spatial access could only be operated on as a whole, and it was impossible to retrieve items from inside the box remotely.

We need to take it out.

Chen Feng looked around the cramped living room. No, the space here is too small, and if the box really contains weapons, the noise when it's opened (like the clanging of metal) might alert the downstairs neighbors or passersby.

He looked into the bedroom, where Xiaoyu was sleeping.

The only option is the kitchen. It's a relatively private space with a door that can be closed, and it's close to the back alley window, making it easier to conceal any unusual smells or noises.