Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

At the same time, in the master bedroom of Jingyuan Villa.

Han Dongcheng stood by the window, clutching a cup of cold, strong tea in his hand.

A thin film, like a layer of dead skin, formed on the surface of the tea.

For several days now, the feeling of being spied on has never subsided.

It was as if countless eyes were hidden in the darkness, in the grass, and in the cracks of the wall, staring intently at him.

He reviewed all the surveillance footage and found nothing unusual.

They sent people to search the entire surrounding area, but found nothing.

The security captain confidently assured that the manor was impregnable and not even a fly could get in.

But he trusted his intuition—it had saved him too many times.

In this industry, those who have survived to this day do so not because of luck, but because of a keen sense of smell.

The security captain's final report came through the walkie-talkie, the static slightly crackling: "Mr. Han, everything is normal. All the perimeter sentries are in position, and the power outage contingency plan can be activated at any time."

"Stay vigilant." Han Dongcheng pressed the call button, his voice calm and unwavering. "Triple the patrol frequency tonight. Nobody should sleep before dawn."

"clear."

He turned to look at the photo on the wall—a photo taken twenty years ago of him, Zhao Hongtu, and Song Mingzhang at a private club.

The three men, full of confidence and high spirits, raised their glasses, their smiles radiating an air of absolute self-assurance.

Zhao Hongtu is gone.

They didn't even find the body.

Who will be next?

Han Dongcheng put down his teacup, the porcelain cup clinking against the table with a crisp sound that echoed in the empty bedroom.

He went into a secret room deep inside the bedroom, where there was a separate telephone line that connected directly to the outside without going through any switchboard.

He dialed a number, it rang three times, and then he hung up.

This was an agreement with Song Mingzhang: if he did not report that he was safe after tonight, the cleanup process would be initiated—destroying all related evidence, cutting off all contact, and even including certain people who "knew too much".

After doing all this, Han Dongcheng returned to the window and looked at the quiet manor outside.

The landscape lights illuminated the garden as if it were daytime, and the neatly trimmed shrubs cast dappled shadows in the night breeze, like a group of lurking dancers.

The wind blew in the early morning, and the neatly trimmed holly bushes in the yard swayed gently.

Han Dongcheng stared at the swaying leaves and suddenly felt that something was wrong.

The wind was blowing from the northwest, but the leaves of the holly bush in the southeast corner were also moving.

Moreover, the frequency of their movements is inconsistent.

It was as if something was pulling them from below, as if they were breathing, as if they were... waving.

He squinted, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the windowsill.

"An illusion," he muttered to himself. "I'm too nervous."

But the feeling of being spied on grew stronger.

It's not just about visuals.

He could almost hear the sound of plants growing, the friction of roots pushing pebbles as they spread through the soil, and the secrets carried by the wind as it passed through the leaves.

Han Dongcheng suddenly took a step back, his back slamming against the cold wall.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie on the table, intending to order someone to inspect the garden, but his finger hovered over the button, hesitating to press it.

What did you say?

You said you felt the grass was moving?

What would your subordinates think if that happened?

He will become a paranoid madman.

And madmen don't live long.

Han Dongcheng took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the inexplicable throbbing in his heart.

He straightened his collar, regaining his composed and strategic demeanor.

"No matter who you are," he said in a low voice to the darkness outside the window, his voice laced with ruthlessness, "if you dare to come to Jingyuan Manor, you'd better be prepared to stay."

He turned and walked to the bedside, where a specially made insulated pistol lay.

Tonight, I'm destined to be sleepless.

……

One o'clock in the morning, outside Jingyuan Villa.

The night wind was like a knife, cutting through exposed skin and bringing a bone-chilling cold.

Meng Zhaowen squatted in the bushes 300 meters away from the wall, her palms pressed against the cold, damp ground.

He breathed very softly, almost blending into the night breeze.

His mental energy, like an invisible root system, extended downwards from his palm, penetrating layers of soil to touch the "seeds" he had quietly planted three days in advance—the tenacious weeds growing at the base of the wall, the slippery moss by the drainage ditch, and even the overlooked fern in the cracks of the wall bricks.

They are alive, they are watching, they are listening.

The locations of the thirteen hidden sentries were clearly visualized in his mind: two people per group, with overlapping vision, changing shifts every forty minutes.

The most troublesome group is the one in the northeast corner—they have searchlights behind them, and there are no blind spots under their feet; no movement can escape the sweep of that strong light.

Meng Zhaowen opened his eyes, a faint dark green light flashing in his pupils.

He turned his head and gestured to Liu Zhen, who was also hidden in the darkness beside him: Northeast corner, leave it to me.

Liu Zhen nodded slightly, his eyes calm and serene.

He trusted Meng Zhaowen as much as he trusted the electric arc in his own hand.

……

In the northeast corner, two bodyguards were leaning against the wall, whispering about their tedious overtime tasks for the night.

The cigarette flame flickered in the darkness, swirling with smoke.

At the base of the wall behind them, a seemingly ordinary weed trembled slightly in the windless night.

The grass blades grow silently and very slowly, almost imperceptibly to the naked eye.

They climbed along the wall, around the searchlight brackets, their delicate curls seemingly consciously wrapping around the cable connectors.

A tiny spark from the short circuit flashed, and the searchlight abruptly went out.

"Damn, this broken light is broken again." One of them cursed as he got up, sweeping the beam of his flashlight along the base of the wall, preparing to check the wiring.

He had just reached the base of the wall when a thin crack suddenly appeared in the cement ground beneath his feet.

Dozens of thin vines, as fine as hair, sprouted out and instantly wrapped around his ankles.

Before he could even look down, the vines had already climbed up his calves and strangled his throat—tightening and suffocating him.

A gurgling sound came from his throat, but it couldn't travel more than half a meter.

Just as the other person noticed something was wrong and was about to speak, the ivy hanging down from above, like a group of snakes that came to life, wrapped around his head and face, blocking his mouth and nose.

The struggle lasted less than ten seconds before the two collapsed to the ground, dragged into the depths of the green belt by the vines.

The ground returned to its original state, leaving only a few traces of fresh soil, which were quickly dried by the night wind, as if no one had ever existed.

……

Immediately afterwards, Meng Zhaowen's plant army was fully activated, and the vegetation around the entire villa was awakened under his will.

On the west side, hidden sentry post, the moss in the drainage ditch grew wildly in an instant, turning into a slippery trap.

The moment the two guards stepped on it, their feet slipped and they lost their balance.

Before they could even cry out in surprise, they were pulled into darkness by vines that surged from the bottom of the ditch, without even a splash of water.

From the lookout point on the south side, morning glories clinging to the railing quietly release paralyzing pollen.

After inhaling the gas, the two guards' consciousness quickly faded, and they slid down slowly against the railing, as if they had fallen asleep from exhaustion—but they would never wake up again.