Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Looking at the two men's eyes, Han Dongcheng thought he had finally escaped a disaster. He had just breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Liu Zhen squat down again. His weathered face was close at hand, and the flames in his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Han Dongcheng".

Liu Zhen's voice was soft, yet carried immense weight: "My son is twelve years old this year. He's still so young, and his life has so many possibilities ahead of him."

His hand rested on Han Dongcheng's chest.

"But when he died in the car, I couldn't do anything for them. By the time I got there, the car was already on fire, and I didn't even get to see him one last time. It's all your fault!"

Han Dongcheng's pupils suddenly contracted, and the color drained from his face instantly.

He wanted to shake his head, beg for mercy, and hide behind him, but the vines bound him tightly, and he couldn't move an inch.

"wait--"

He only managed to squeeze out one word before a blinding white light burst forth from Liu Zhen's palm.

This time it wasn't the torturous weak current, but the destructive high-voltage electrical energy.

The electric current instantly pierced his chest cavity, his heart convulsed violently twice in extreme pain, and then came to a complete stop.

At the same time, Meng Zhaowen pressed her palm to the ground.

A thin vine, as thin as a hair, silently emerged from under the seat, entered Han Dongcheng's nasal cavity, and spread inward along his respiratory tract, reaching his brainstem.

With a gentle twist.

Han Dongcheng's body suddenly straightened up, like a drawn bow, before collapsing heavily to the ground.

His eyes were still wide open, the pupils reflecting the last glimmer of dazzling blue, gradually losing all their luster.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of burning protein.

Together, they carried out this revenge—one destroyed the heart, the other shredded the brain.

Liu Zhen withdrew his hand, and the electric arc at his fingertips slowly extinguished.

Looking at Han Dongcheng's distorted face, his nerves, which had been tense for a long time, finally relaxed a little.

He didn't say anything, turned around and walked to the corner of the garage, where he slowly squatted down against the cold wall.

He pulled out the photo that was carefully wrapped in plastic film from his pocket.

In the photo, the wife gently puts her arm around her son's shoulder, and the two of them smile as warmly as the sunshine.

His fingertips gently brushed across the faces of the two people in the photo, and tears finally flowed uncontrollably, splashing onto the plastic film and spreading into small water stains.

Meng Zhaowen stood not far away, watching him quietly, without going forward to disturb him.

He knew the emptiness and pain that came after a great revenge was achieved; he had experienced it himself. The feeling of being completely drained after the hatred that had been bottled up for so long was suddenly released.

He lowered his head, his palms pressed against the ground, and the vines began to slowly wriggle, enveloping Han Dongcheng's corpse, secreting a transparent viscous liquid that silently decomposed flesh and clothing.

In just a few minutes, only a damp patch and a few non-biodegradable buttons remained on the seat, as if the person had never existed.

After an unknown amount of time, Liu Zhen finally stood up, carefully put the photo back into his arms, and pressed it against his heart.

He raised his head and looked at Meng Zhaowen, the sadness in his eyes replaced by a more resolute killing intent.

"Song Mingzhang, Wang Hongyuan." He read the two names, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth. "The next ones are them."

Meng Zhaowen nodded, and the vines at his fingertips slowly retracted into the ground, leaving only a few almost invisible traces on the ground.

He took out a map from his trench coat pocket and marked the location of Yunyin Manor, which Han Dongcheng had just told him about.

"Wednesday is in three days." Meng Zhaowen's voice was deep. "We have three days to prepare. Song Mingzhang is more vigilant than Han Dongcheng, and Wang Hongyuan is the third-ranking political commissar in Lieyang Province. His security detail is on a completely different level from that of Jingyuan Villa. This time, it will only be more difficult."

"No matter how difficult it is, I have to go." A dark blue arc of electricity once again leaped from Liu Zhen's palm, illuminating the inextinguishable flame in his eyes. "I've been waiting for this day. What they owe us, we have to settle accounts one by one."

The garage's motion-sensor lights turned on one by one in response to the two people's footsteps, and then turned off one by one behind them.

Two figures, burdened with a deep-seated hatred, walked side by side out of the underground parking garage and into the deep night outside.

The distant horizon was already faintly tinged with the pale light of dawn; daylight was approaching.

But they knew that true darkness awaited them in the Cloud Hidden Manor in Zhaoming City.

That was an even deeper den of dragons and tigers than Jingyuan Villa, and the next stop on their path of revenge.

……

In the western suburbs of Zhaoming City, nestled among the folds of the mountains, lies a gray building without a sign.

It looks like an abandoned weather station, with dark green vines climbing the exterior walls, and even the house number is blurred by rust.

But no one knew that inside this seemingly abandoned building was the core intelligence observation center of the Five Mountains Alliance's Lieyang Province branch.

The sealed room on the third basement level had no windows; the only light source came from three huge LCD screens, their cold white light reflecting off the three faces, flickering intermittently.

It was 3:18 a.m., exactly two hours after Liu Zhen and Meng Zhaowen stepped into Jingyuan Villa.

On the left screen is a real-time overhead thermal image transmitted back by a high-orbit reconnaissance satellite, clearly projecting the outline of the entire Jingyuan Villa: one after another, the originally stable red heat sources are gradually going out.

Two rapidly moving heat sources are silently approaching the main building, leaving no trace of human warmth in their wake.

The middle screen shows an optical image captured by an observation point five kilometers away on the mountainside. The resolution of the large-aperture telescope is astonishingly high, and even the pale blue arc of electricity dancing on Liu Zhen's fingertips is clearly visible.

He stood in the second-floor corridor, grabbing Jiang Jianping by the neck. The latter, wearing an insulated combat suit worth hundreds of thousands of yuan, was like a chicken with its neck being choked, unable to even struggle, its body as limp as a puddle of mud.

The right screen displays a fluctuating data stream, with lines of code flashing by rapidly:

The estimated peak electric arc intensity reached 170 kV, the instantaneous growth rate of the vines was 1.2 m/s, and the resonant frequency of the coupled electric field matched the human nerve electrical signals by 98.7%...

Each number was redefining the three people in the room's understanding of "extraordinary power."

This observation center did not appear out of thin air.

Its existence stemmed from a phone call a few days ago.

That day, after Han Dongcheng hung up on Zhang Cheng, he dialed Song Mingzhang's number.

The report stated that Zhao Hongtu had gone missing, there were unusual circumstances at the scene, suspicions were being raised about Liu Zhen, and the individual felt they were being spied on.

Song Mingzhang had the call on speakerphone, and Wang Hongyuan and Zhong Lin sat in his current seats, listening to every single word.

After hanging up the phone, Zhong Lin made a decision: "This is an opportunity. Let him stay there and wait for the enemy to arrive."

Wang Hongyuan nodded after a moment of silence.