Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Shen Hanzhou squatted down to be at eye level with Lao Yan.

There was no emotion in the eyes behind the cracked glasses.

"I already said. There were tracking tags in the file folder. You didn't hesitate when you set me up, and I won't be soft-hearted now."

His tone was very soft, just as soft as when he said "I'll quote the actual price next time."

"All the intelligence on Jiang Yi. Say another word and I'll crush your knees."

Old Yan was trembling all over in pain, and his mental defenses completely crumbled.

He started to pour out his words, speaking very quickly, as if afraid that if he spoke too slowly, he would be interrupted again.

"Three days ago, Jiang Yi withdrew all of Chiji's personnel back to Guangyang City and personally oversaw operations in the cold storage basement of an abandoned slaughterhouse in the eastern suburbs! There are at least twenty security personnel, armed with automatic weapons, working in three shifts, and surveillance covers all passageways! Jiang Yi has never left the basement; he eats, drinks, and relieves himself all there, and even his subordinates report to him from the basement!"

Shen Hanzhou remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Old Yan took a breath and hurriedly added an even more crucial clue.

"There's a fixed gap in the blockade line on the eastern outskirts of Redthorn! Every day from 3 to 4 a.m., the surveillance cameras in the alley leading to the back gate of the slaughterhouse will stop for fifteen minutes—it's a smuggling route deliberately left open during the shift change of the outer security! I got this intelligence from a veteran driver on Redthorn's logistics line; I didn't sell it to anyone!"

Old Yan finished speaking and raised his head, his voice trembling.

"Only you know about this gap! Let me go, and I'll arrange a way for you to leave the city—"

Shen Hanzhou didn't respond to his words, but gently raised his right index finger.

The cement tightened even further. Old Yan's shinbone cracked again, even more brittle than before. The periosteum was compressed to its limit, and tiny cracks appeared on the surface of the tibia.

Old Yan's face was contorted in pain. Tears and cold sweat streamed down his face as he forced out a sentence through clenched teeth: "What else do you want to know—I'll tell you everything! Everything!"

Shen Hanzhou spoke coldly: "The movements of the Five Mountains Society and the Xiongbei Society."

Old Yan just wanted to live. He answered everything Shen Hanzhou asked, speaking so fast that it was almost impossible to understand his sentences.

"The entire Five Mountains Alliance security team has been recalled to headquarters, with Yan Tingyao personally overseeing operations! Patrol cars are circling back and forth between the old city and the eastern suburbs! I suspect Yan Tingyao has already guessed that Jiang Yi is your next target and has designated the eastern suburbs as a key area for surveillance!"

"Xiongbei Company has suspended all regular transactions in the Lieyang division! The R&D team suddenly appeared in the eastern suburbs of Guangyang, led by the R&D team leader himself! But Xiongbei's people didn't go to the slaughterhouse—they weren't targeting Jiang Yi!"

Shen Hanzhou's brows twitched slightly.

Old Yan added a piece of intelligence he had just obtained.

"All of Xiong Bei's men are stationed near Jiang Yubai! I just received this information and haven't had time to verify it yet, but the source is a logistics dispatcher on the outskirts of Xiong Bei, so it's 90% accurate! I don't know why Zheng Daoyuan is targeting this person—but Xiong Bei didn't go to the slaughterhouse; they're targeting Jiang Yubai!"

Jiangyu Bai.

Shen Hanzhou memorized the name.

Old Yan poured out everything he knew, then looked up at Shen Hanzhou. His lips trembled as he squeezed out the last sentence: "That's all I know. I haven't hidden a single thing. Let me go, and I'll leave Lieyang Province tonight and never touch the underground business again. For the sake of our three years of friendship—"

Shen Hanzhou looked down at Lao Yan.

Old Yan's face was covered in snot and tears, and his lips trembled as he kept saying "three years of friendship," his voice high-pitched and hoarse.

He looked terrible. His legs were encased in cement, his shinbones were cracked, and his face was covered in a mixture of sweat and tears. The iron-gray powder on the counter was still there; it had been a gun just seconds before.

Shen Hanzhou felt no pity.

When Old Yan pulled the trigger, he aimed at his leg, saying, "I've wasted twenty years of my life." Back then, we had no relationship, and the gun was pointed at him. Now he's begging for mercy.

"You didn't mention our three-year friendship when you fired the gun. You didn't mention it when you put the tracking patch in the file. Now that the gun's gone and your leg's been bandaged, you've remembered."

Old Yan shook his head frantically, his mouth agape as if trying to explain.

Shen Hanzhou didn't give him a chance.

"I've been running your business for three years and I've never owed you a single penny. I should have cut ties with you the first time you cheated me."

His voice was flat, but every word was clear.

"You chose 80 million yourself today. So let's go by the rules for 80 million. Once you've taken the money, don't try to curry favor; it'll just make you worthless."

Old Yan's face turned completely white.

He read a definite killing intent in Shen Hanzhou's eyes. There was no anger, no hesitation, only a cold judgment.

Old Yan opened his mouth to shout. Shout "You can't kill me!"—shout "I still have intelligence!"—shout "Spare me!"—but Shen Hanzhou's right hand was already pressed on the cement ground in front of him.

Ability activated.

It wasn't the localized collapse we saw earlier. The entire ground began to crumble into powder from Old Yan's chest upwards. Cement shattered into fine, iron-gray powder, enveloping his chest cavity from all sides, at a speed even faster than when Feng Fangli was working.

Old Yan struggled frantically. He pounded the ground with his hands, his nails splitting, blood splattering onto the cement dust. He opened his mouth to scream, but the dust was poured into his mouth, silencing all sound.

His face turned purple. His eyes bulged. His mouth was wide open, trying to inhale, but his lungs were blocked by cement and he couldn't take in anything. Muffled bubbling sounds came from his throat.

ten seconds.

Old Yan's head was completely submerged in the powdered cement.

All that remained on the ground was the outline of a head, sealed inside the concrete. Its features were distorted, its mouth was wide open, and its eyes were bulging out, as if it were desperately trying to breathe the moment it was sealed in.

Shen Hanzhou withdrew his right hand. The ground solidified again.

He straightened up and looked down at Old Yan's head, which was embedded in the ground.

He'd known him for three years. Three years ago, during their first transaction, Lao Yan gave him a price, and he paid it on the spot.

The next five or six collaborations all involved intelligence on the sources of raw materials for prohibited drugs. Once, Old Yan deliberately inflated the price to test him, and he replied, "Next time, give me the real price," and paid accordingly. Old Yan never cheated him again after that.

Zhou Ting has known him for three years, Wang Zhaoping for three years, and Lao Yan for three years.

These three people are here to kill him today.

Zhou Ting said the debt of gratitude had been repaid. Wang Zhaoping said everyone served their own masters. Old Yan said 80 million was enough for him to sell the brand he had built up over twenty years.

Now all three of them are dead.

Shen Hanzhou thought to himself: This is the third one.

He picked up the file folder on the counter, pulled out the intelligence about Jiang Yi's stronghold, and checked it over—the basement of the cold storage in the abandoned slaughterhouse in the eastern suburbs, with at least twenty security personnel, automatic weapons, three shifts, and full surveillance coverage.

The intelligence report also included a hand-drawn topographical map of the area surrounding the slaughterhouse, marking the locations of the fixed security posts and shift schedules.

He folded the intelligence report and put it into the inside pocket of his coat.