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

The room was on the fourth floor, with the window facing the street, and across the street was that iron-gray wall.

There's a potted green plant on the windowsill. The leaves are a bit wilted and the edges are yellow, probably because no one has watered it for a long time.

He took a shower and changed his clothes.

He was still wearing a dark short-sleeved shirt, black trousers, and cloth shoes, but he looked much more energetic than during the day after changing.

The clothes were taken out of his personal storage space.

He stood by the window, looking across the street.

The light was still on, its orange glow shining down from the wall lamp and illuminating the two armed sentries at the door.

The night breeze from Southeast Asia carried the salty smell of the sea and the fresh scent of grass and trees, causing the light from the wall lamp to sway slightly.

Chen Feng stood by the window, staring at the iron gate for a long time.

The next morning, sunlight shone through the window.

The iron-gray wall opposite gleamed with a dark light in the morning glow, and the two sentries at the gate had changed shifts and stood ramrod straight.

Several military vehicles, all military green, with canvas covering their cargo beds, were parked nearby, stretching from the gate all the way to the corner of the wall.

Chen Feng went downstairs and had breakfast at the hotel restaurant.

Two slices of toast, a cup of coffee.

The toast was spread with butter, and the coffee was unsweetened.

He ate very slowly, keeping his eyes on the iron gate outside the window as he ate. After he finished eating, he stood up and went outside.

He didn't take a taxi; instead, he walked along the road and stopped on the other side of the iron gate.

There were barricades at the entrance, made of iron and painted with yellow and black stripes.

Two sentries stood behind the barricade, their guns held upright with the muzzles pointing downwards.

Further on was a checkpoint, with several passages separated by iron fences. At the end of the passages was a guard post, where a man in military uniform was sitting and reading a newspaper.

Looking in from here, you can only see the outermost ring of barracks and a few neatly trimmed palm trees.

The military vehicle drove out and stopped at the checkpoint. The sentry peeked into the vehicle through the window and waved for it to pass.

Chen Feng stood across the road for a long time, memorizing the appearance of the iron gate, the changing of the guard times, and the frequency of military vehicles entering and leaving.

In a certain place in Singapore, there is a small gray building.

The curtains were drawn, and only a floor lamp was lit in the room.

The person sitting on the sofa was Jason. She had changed her clothes and was wearing dark casual clothes. Her hair was down and draped over her shoulders.

Holding a glass of red wine, I slowly sipped it.

Snake King Can is dead.

Hank asked her to find out more about the Northerners, and she did—they were from Hong Kong Island and mainland China, and it turned out they worked at a repair shop in Sham Shui Po.

One man killed fifteen of Tyrannosaurus Rex's men, ravaged Fat Bo's territory, wiped out one hundred of Ruan Xiong's men, and killed twenty-one of Ruan Bao's men.

The Hong Kong Island Police Department can't do anything about him, the Hong Kong Island triads can't do anything about him, and no one on Hong Kong Island can do anything about him.

She put down her wine glass, stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

The sunlight streamed in, making her squint.

Downstairs is the military camp, with neat rows of trees, manicured lawns, and several gray barracks. In the distance is the dock, where several warships are moored.

The gray hull gleamed with a dark metallic sheen in the sunlight, and the ship's cannons pointed to the sky like several upright fingers.

She worked for the CIA for over a decade, from the Middle East to Southeast Asia, she'd seen it all and dealt with all sorts of people.

But this Northerner was a headache for her—not because he was particularly good at killing, but because she couldn't find out anything about him.

If you can't find out a person's background, you can't deal with him.

I don't know what he's afraid of, what he wants, or where his weaknesses lie.

She closed her eyes and went through the information about the Northerner in her mind—his younger sister, Chen Xiaoyu, was studying on Hong Kong Island and was his only relative.

She opened her eyes, picked up the phone on the table, and dialed a number.

The call connected, and it was Hank's voice on the other end.

"I need you to go to Hong Kong Island to do something for me. Bring the Northerner's sister to the new island."

Hotel, room.

Chen Feng stood by the window, looking at the iron gate across the street.

The sentry has changed to the third shift.

He stood by the window all day, from dawn till dusk.

As dusk fell once more, the sky over the South Seas gradually changed from orange-red to deep purple.

He turned and walked to the bedside, taking out a dark combat suit from his spatial storage—a suit he had redeemed from the system, equipped with night vision.

He put on his combat uniform, then put on his tactical vest over it, and inserted the bulletproof inserts.

With a pistol tucked into his waistband, a submachine gun slung over his shoulder, and a dagger tucked into his boot, he took these out of his spatial storage with swift and practiced movements.

I checked all the landmines, smoke grenades, flashbangs, and hand grenades, and then put them away.

After completing the inspection, he stood up, walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and looked at the iron gate opposite.

The iron gate was tightly shut, a sentry stood at the entrance, and the streetlights were already on, casting an orange glow.

He stared at it for a long time, then drew the curtains.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes.

It was two in the morning. He opened his eyes and got up from the bedside.

After changing into my combat uniform and checking my equipment, I walked to the window and glanced out—the lights across the street were still on.

He pushed open the door and walked out, his footsteps very light in the hallway, the wall lamps emitting a dim yellow light, and the carpet was dark.

He walked to the top of the stairs, pushed open the door, and went downstairs.

The hotel lobby was empty. The young woman at the front desk was dozing off. He didn't look at her, pushed open the door, and walked out.

A night breeze swept over me, carrying the salty smell of the sea and the fresh scent of grass and trees.

The streetlights were shining overhead, casting an orange glow.

He walked along the road, his steps very light.

The iron gate on the other side was getting closer and closer.

The barricades, sentries, checkpoints—things he had memorized during the day—were less clear under the streetlights, but their locations remained the same.

To the left of the iron gate is a wall, which is very high and topped with barbed wire.

He walked along the wall and stopped where there were no streetlights.

The night vision goggles flipped down and were placed in front of my eyes, and the world turned green.

The barbed wire shone brightly against the green backdrop; he had seen it—there were gaps.

He took out a pair of pliers from the space and cut the barbed wire.

The sound was very soft; in the darkness, there was only a faint clicking sound, like a mouse gnawing on wood.

I cut a hole, crawled in sideways, and landed without making a sound.

This is the edge of the camp, with rows of barracks neatly arranged, their windows dark.

In the distance, beams of searchlights moved slowly across the night sky.

He crouched down, took out a camouflage net from his spatial storage and draped it over himself, crouching on the edge of the darkness like a clump of bushes.

The searchlight beam swept over his head but didn't illuminate anything.

He waited for the beam of light to pass, then stood up and crept deeper into the camp.

The windows of that gray building were dark.

Several military vehicles—jeeps and trucks—were parked downstairs.

He crouched behind the jeep, put away the camouflage net, took out a sensor mine from his storage space, placed it under the jeep, and pressed a button on the side.

The landmine emitted a faint buzzing sound, and the indicator light flashed once before going out.

He took out another one and placed it under another jeep, and then placed another one at the entrance of the small building.

Three landmines, in three directions.

He crouched behind the jeep, took the submachine gun off his shoulder, checked the magazine, and put it back on.

Stand up and walk towards that small building.

The door was locked, with an iron padlock hanging on the door latch, the keyhole facing down.

He took out a master key from his spatial storage—a bent wire key—inserted it into the keyhole, and turned it twice; the lock opened.

Push open the door and go inside.

The corridor was dark, the carpet was dark, and there were several oil paintings hanging on the walls. The wall lamps were not on.

His cloth shoes made no sound when he stepped on the carpet.

He pulled a flashbang from his pocket and held it in his hand.

Footsteps came from upstairs, very light, but exceptionally clear in the quiet stairwell.

He crouched down against the wall and pulled the safety pin off the flashbang.

The footsteps grew closer, and a person emerged from the corner of the stairs—a man in military uniform, holding a gun, his eyes half-open as if he had just woken up.

Chen Feng rushed out from the corner, covered the man's mouth with his left hand, and stabbed him in the neck with his right hand.

The knife hadn't even gone halfway in when blood spurted out, and the man's body went from stiff to limp.

Chen Feng helped him up, gently placed him on the ground, and dragged the body to the storage room at the end of the corridor.

upstairs.

Jason was still awake, sitting on the sofa in his bathrobe, with several documents spread out on the coffee table.

The door was pushed open from the outside.