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

The deaf old woman's room in the backyard wasn't large, but it was very clean. Several yellowed posters of model operas were pasted on the wall, and a porcelain Guanyin statue sat on the table, with three sticks of incense burning in the incense burner, their smoke curling upwards. The deaf old woman sat on the kang (a heated brick bed), wearing a dark blue cotton-padded jacket, her hair neatly combed. Although she was over eighty and hard of hearing, her eyesight was still sharp, and her mind was clear.

Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui stood on the ground, heads bowed, like three schoolchildren waiting to be scolded. Yi Zhonghai sat in his wheelchair, his empty right sleeve particularly jarring; Liu Haizhong's protruding belly seemed to have shrunk in the past few days, and he looked noticeably thinner; Yan Bugui's eyes darted around behind his glasses, his mind racing with calculations.

"Grandma, look at the situation in the courtyard now," Yi Zhonghai spoke first, his voice hoarse. "That bastard Chen Feng has already killed six people: Qin Huairu, Jia Dongxu, Xu Damao, Yan Jiecheng, Liu Guangtian, and Director Wang. My hand is practically useless now. If this continues, everyone in our courtyard will be wiped out."

The deaf old woman slowly took a sip of tea without saying a word.

Liu Haizhong continued, "The police did send people to guard the area, but can they really keep up? Yan Jiecheng died at the gate of the compound, and Liu Guangtian died on his way home from get off work. That Chen Feng is unpredictable; he's impossible to guard against!"

Yan Bugui pushed up his glasses: "Grandma, we can't just sit here and wait to die. You're the matriarch of the courtyard, with wide connections and a lot of experience. Please give us some ideas."

The deaf old woman put down her teacup and looked at the three people. Her eyes were calm, a calmness that was unsettling. After a long while, she spoke, her voice soft, but every word clear:

"This is not difficult."

All three of them looked up, their eyes lighting up.

"No matter how capable Chen Feng is, he's still just one person," the deaf old woman continued. "As long as you're willing to pay, you can find a few ruthless thugs on the black market..."

She made a throat-slitting motion.

The room fell silent. The three men stared at each other, none of them expecting the deaf old woman to come up with such a plan. Hiring a killer? That was a capital offense!

Yi Zhonghai was the first to react: "Grandma, is this...is this okay?"

"Why not?" the deaf old woman sneered. "How do you think Chen Feng has survived until now? He's a fugitive, without food or water, yet he still manages to kill people everywhere. Does he have no one helping him behind the scenes? Let me tell you, everything is sold on the black market, including human lives."

Liu Haizhong wiped the sweat from his forehead: "But... what if the police find out..."

"If you don't tell, who will know?" The deaf old woman stared at him. "Desperados take money, do the job, and leave. Who can find out? Besides, in this situation, what other options do you have? Just wait for Chen Feng to kill you all one by one?"

The three of them fell silent. The deaf old woman was right; they had no other choice. Since the police couldn't catch Chen Feng, they had to save themselves.

Yan Bugui was already calculating in his mind: "Grandma, how much...how much will that cost?"

"It depends on what kind of people you want," the deaf old woman said. "Ordinary ones are thirty or fifty yuan each; skilled ones are a hundred yuan or more. Chen Feng is ruthless, so we need to find skilled ones, at least two, preferably three. One hundred yuan each, three hundred yuan in total."

"Three hundred yuan!" Yan Bugui exclaimed in surprise, "That much!"

"A lot?" The deaf old woman glanced at him. "How much is Yan Jiecheng's life worth? How much is Liu Guangtian's life worth? How much are the three of you worth? Three hundred yuan for three lives, is that expensive?"

Yan Bugui remained silent. He understood the calculations—six people had already died in the courtyard, and if three more died, that would be nine lives. Three hundred yuan for three lives, averaging one hundred yuan per life, didn't seem… expensive.

But he still felt bad about the money.

"Where will the money come from?" Liu Haizhong asked. "All three of our families are struggling right now; where would we get three hundred yuan?"

The deaf old woman looked at the three people, then took another sip of tea: "Aren't there other people in the courtyard? Let everyone chip in. Each family should contribute a little, enough to make three hundred yuan. Whoever doesn't contribute, don't blame others for not helping if something happens later."

"That's a good idea." Yan Bugui immediately nodded: "Yes, let everyone chip in. There are more than twenty households in the courtyard. If each household contributes ten yuan, that's more than two hundred yuan. The rest we three households can cover."

Yi Zhonghai thought for a moment and agreed: "Okay, let's do it that way. Grandma, about finding someone..."

"I'll arrange it," the deaf old woman said. "I have a few acquaintances on the black market who can contact reliable people. But you have to raise the money first. Three hundred dollars, not a penny less."

"Okay, let's go raise the money right away."

The three people left the deaf old woman's room and returned to the courtyard. It was already dark, and the courtyard was quiet, with only a few dim lights shining through the windows.

"Old Liu, Old Yan, what do you think?" Yi Zhonghai asked.

Liu Haizhong gritted his teeth: "Let's do it! Not doing it is like waiting to die!"

Yan Bugui nodded: "We have to do it, but we need to settle the money clearly. Each of our three families will contribute twenty yuan, and the rest will be paid by the other families in the courtyard. Ten yuan per family, twenty households would be two hundred, plus our sixty, that's two hundred and sixty. We're still short forty, so let Shazhu, the Jia family, and the Xu family contribute more."

He calculated it perfectly, and neither Yi Zhonghai nor Liu Haizhong had any objections.

"Then we'll hold a hospital-wide meeting first thing tomorrow morning," Yi Zhonghai said, "to make things clear to everyone. Those who are willing to contribute will look out for each other in the future; those who are not willing to contribute, don't blame us for not helping if something happens in the future."

"OK."

The three went home separately. Yi Zhonghai was pushed into the house by an old lady, Liu Haizhong went home with her pregnant belly, and Yan Bugui was still calculating as he walked—ten yuan per household, twenty households in total, he had to keep a good record of the collected money, not a single penny could be wrong.

The next morning, the sound of gongs rang out in the courtyard.

It was Yan Bugui knocking, shouting as he knocked: "Meeting time! Meeting time! Assemble at the Intermediate People's Court! At least one person from each household must come!"

People gradually emerged from the courtyard, their faces filled with confusion and unease. So many people had died in the courtyard these past few days; everyone was gripped by fear, wondering what had happened next.

Several long benches were set up in the courtyard. Yi Zhonghai sat in a wheelchair, Liu Haizhong stood in the middle, and Yan Bugui held a notebook and pen, ready to take notes. The deaf old woman didn't come, but everyone knew that this matter was definitely related to her.

Almost everyone had arrived. There was Sha Zhu, Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiefang, Jia Zhangshi, Auntie Yi, Auntie Er, Auntie San, and other residents from the courtyard—more than thirty people in total, men, women, and children. Everyone stood silently; the atmosphere was oppressive.

Yi Zhonghai cleared his throat and began, "Neighbors, I've called you all here today because there's something important to discuss. As you all know, Chen Feng has escaped from prison and killed six people in our compound, and even crippled one of my hands. The police have sent people to guard it, but they can't keep up. Yan Jiecheng died at the compound gate, and Liu Guangtian died on his way home from get off work. If this continues, everyone in our compound will be wiped out."

He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse, but every word struck a chord in everyone's hearts.

"So," Yi Zhonghai continued, "we discussed it and decided we couldn't just sit and wait to die any longer. We had to save ourselves."

A commotion arose in the crowd.

"How can we save ourselves?" someone asked.

"Hire people," Liu Haizhong continued, "hire a few capable men and take care of Chen Feng."

Everyone was stunned by these words. Hiring a killer? That's illegal!

"Is this...is this okay?" the third auntie whispered.

"We have to do it!" Liu Haizhong roared. "Do you want to wait to die? Wait for Chen Feng to kill us all one by one? Yan Jiecheng is dead, Liu Guangtian is dead, who's next? It could be you, it could be you, it could be you!"

He pointed at the crowd, and those he pointed at shrank back.

Yan Bugui adjusted his glasses and began to do the math: "Hiring people costs money. We've calculated it out; hiring three skilled people, one hundred yuan each, totals three hundred yuan. This money can't all come from just our few families; we have to chip in. If each family contributes ten yuan, twenty households will make it two hundred. We'll cover the rest."

"Ten dollars?" someone exclaimed. "That much!"

"A lot?" Yan Bugui sneered. "How much is a life worth? Ten dollars for a life, is that expensive?"

No one spoke. Yes, is life more important or money?

"Those who are willing to contribute will look after each other in the future; those who are not willing to contribute," Yi Zhonghai said coldly, "don't blame us for not helping if something happens in the future."

These words were harsh, but effective. Everyone in the hospital is now on edge, and no one dares to be the one "unwilling to pay."

Sha Zhu was the first to step forward: "I'll bet! That bastard Chen Feng, I've wanted to kill him for ages! I'll bet twenty!"

"I'll put up ten yuan," Liu Guangfu said in a low voice.

"I'll also contribute ten yuan," Yan Jiefang added.

With one person taking the lead, others followed suit. Ten yuan from each of the twenty households quickly raised two hundred yuan. Of the remaining money, Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui each contributed twenty yuan, Jia Zhangshi contributed ten yuan (she originally didn't want to contribute, but was afraid that no one would take care of her if something happened later), and Xu Fugui contributed ten yuan (his son had died, and he hated Chen Feng to the bone).

The total is 320 yuan, 20 yuan more than that.

Yan Bugui carefully kept the accounts, put the money away in a cloth bag, and said, "The money is all raised. I'll take care of the rest. Everyone go back and wait for news. No one is allowed to tell anyone about this, or they'll be the enemy of the entire hospital!"

The crowd gradually dispersed, but they were all filled with unease. Hiring a killer was a capital offense. But they had no choice; to survive, they had to do it.

At the same time, in a small room behind the restaurant, Chen Feng was preparing to leave.

He's going to the black market today to gather information. The courtyard has been unusually quiet these past few days. After Liu Guangtian's burial, the people in the courtyard seem suddenly fearless; they go to work as usual, go out as usual, and even some of the police have left.

Not right.

Chen Feng's intuition told him that the people in the compound were plotting something. He needed to know what they were planning.

He changed into his tattered clothes, put on a hat, and smeared his face with soot. Then he pulled some money from a crack in the wall and stuffed it into his pocket. He hid the dagger and kitchen knife, carrying only a small knife, which he concealed in his sleeve.

Before leaving, he looked in the mirror. The person in the mirror was a stranger—his hair was messy, his face was dirty, and his eyes were cold. He hadn't seen himself looking clean in a long time; he had almost forgotten what he looked like.

He pushed open the door and went out.

The restaurant owner was greeting customers at the front. When he saw Chen Feng, he nodded but didn't say anything. Chen Feng didn't greet him either and left directly through the back door.

There weren't many people on the street, but more than a few days ago. There were fewer members of the joint defense team; you could only see one or two occasionally, smoking and chatting by the roadside, not very vigilant.

It seems the police have really let their guard down.

Chen Feng sneered inwardly. It would be good if they relaxed; only when they relaxed would he have a chance.

He took a detour through the alley to the black market. It was a bit more lively than a few days ago, with more stalls and more people buying things. But he remained wary; everyone wore masks and spoke in hushed tones.

Chen Feng first went to the grain stall and bought a few steamed buns and some pickled vegetables. Then he found a corner to squat down, pretending to rest, but his ears were perked up, listening to the conversations around him.

"Have you heard? Someone in the south of the city is looking to hire people."

"What kind of people should we hire?"

"A desperado, destined for great things."

"What's the big deal?"

"I heard they're going to kill someone, and the price is pretty high—one hundred per person."

"One hundred? That high? Who are they going to kill?"

"I don't know, but they're definitely a tough opponent, otherwise they wouldn't have offered such a high price."

Chen Feng's heart tightened. South of the city? To kill someone? One hundred per person?

Could it be that they're after him?

He quietly approached the two people talking, trying to hear them more clearly. But the two were wary, glancing around and lowering their voices, so he couldn't hear anything behind them.

Chen Feng thought for a moment, then walked to a stall selling secondhand goods. The stall owner was an old man who was dozing off.

"Sir, I have a question for you," Chen Feng said in a low voice, "I heard someone is looking to hire someone?"

The old man opened his eyes, looked him over, and asked, "Why are you asking this?"

"I want to make money," Chen Feng said. "I'm a little short on cash lately."

The old man looked around and whispered, "There is such a thing, but the requirements are high. You need to know martial arts, be ruthless, and not be afraid of death. Are you up to the task?"

"I'll give it a try," Chen Feng said. "How do I contact them?"

The old man hesitated for a moment, then took out a slip of paper from his pocket: "Tomorrow night at eight o'clock, at the Earth God Temple in the west of the city. Take this with you. Someone will contact you."

Chen Feng took the slip of paper, on which was written the number seven. He thanked the old man, paid him two cents, and turned to leave.

He didn't go back to the restaurant, but went to the local earth god temple in the west of the city. It was a very remote place, and nobody usually went there. He wanted to go and check out the terrain beforehand.

The local earth god temple has been abandoned for many years; its doors and windows are gone, and the clay statue of the earth god inside has collapsed halfway. It's surrounded by weeds and grave mounds, and it feels eerie at night.

Chen Feng wandered around the temple, finding a place to hide. Then he looked around and noted down a few escape routes.

After finishing all that, he returned to the restaurant. It was already afternoon, and there weren't many customers. The owner was dozing behind the counter.

Chen Feng returned to the small room and closed the door. He took out the slip of paper from his pocket and looked at the number "seven" on it.

Tomorrow night at 8 PM, at the Earth God Temple.

He wanted to see who had hired someone to kill him. Was it Yi Zhonghai? Liu Haizhong? Yan Bugui? Or someone else in the compound?

No matter who it is, they deserve to die.

Chen Feng burned the note, watching the flames slowly engulf it until it turned to ashes.

He needs to prepare.

One person against three people? No, there might be more than three.

But he wasn't afraid.

He was in the shadows, while they were in the light. He knew their plans, but they didn't know his.

That's the advantage.

Chen Feng took out a dagger and a kitchen knife from under the bed and began sharpening them. The blades rubbed against the whetstone, making a "swish-swish" sound that was particularly jarring in the quiet room.

He sharpened the blade very slowly and meticulously. Every inch of the blade had to be sharpened until it was sharp enough to sever a throat in one stroke.

Tomorrow night.

Earth God Temple.

A bloody battle.

He waited.

After writing this, Chen Feng put away the knife, lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes.

He needs to rest and conserve his energy.

Tomorrow night will be very busy.