Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

He tried to shout, but his throat felt like it was filled with cement.

He wanted to run, but his legs felt like they were nailed to the bed.

He could only watch helplessly as Song Chao reached out his hand, his five fingers gently clenching against his chest from a distance.

He was startled awake from a dream.

I woke up to find that I had wet the bed.

He was 43 years old and had worked as a security guard for 20 years, rising from an auxiliary police officer to a permanent staff member, and from a police station to a branch bureau. He had seen more dead people than living people.

He was so scared by a migrant worker that he wet his pants.

Who would believe that if I told them?

But he has truly come to terms with it now.

On what grounds?

For no reason at all.

Bad luck is bad luck.

Bad luck is just bad luck.

It has nothing to do with anyone else, and it has nothing to do with the Song Dynasty either.

The Song Dynasty simply did something that everyone they had trampled on had always dreamed of doing.

They'll trample those who trampled on them, one by one.

"Forget it, don't think about it anymore."

Sun Jianjun lit another cigarette and took a deep drag.

"There's no use thinking about it anymore. Song Chao is currently the number one wanted criminal in the country. Han Qiming is personally watching him, and three thousand elite troops are stationed in Zhaoming City. Satellites are scanning the city 24 hours a day. How much trouble can he cause? Once the video persuading him to surrender is released, he will either surrender or run away and won't dare to come to Zhaoming City again."

"Besides, we're in this place now, with several lines of defense outside and helicopters patrolling overhead. Even if he has extraordinary abilities, he can't get in."

Zhao Yong nodded, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly.

He bent down and pulled out another can of beer from under the bed, pulled the tab, and took a big gulp.

The cool liquid slid down his throat, and he felt a little better in his stomach.

"Yes. We are security officers. People of the state."

He slammed the beer can down onto the bedside table.

"With so many brothers guarding the outside, if the Song Dynasty really dares to come, it will save Han Qiming a lot of trouble. I want to see if he really has three heads and six arms."

He had barely finished speaking when Sun Jianjun's phone rang.

A name popped up on the phone screen.

Sun Changhe.

Director of the Petition Office of Zhaoming City.

The "fellow sufferers" locked up in this safe house with them.

Sun Jianjun pressed the answer button and turned on speakerphone.

Sun Changhe's voice came through the phone, urgent and filled with barely suppressed resentment.

Have you guys seen that video?

"I've seen it."

Sun Jianjun exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Han Qiming filmed it himself, why didn't I see it?"

Aren't you angry?

Sun Changhe raised his voice.

"I have no problem with him filming a video to persuade us to surrender, but why is he locking us up here? The Song Dynasty didn't just kill the three of us; there were countless people who handled his cases back then! Captain Wang from the Criminal Investigation Department has already been transferred to the provincial capital, and Vice President Zhou from the court is about to retire. They're living the high life outside, while we're locked up in this wretched place waiting to die! Why?!"

"Aren't you the director of the petition office?"

Sun Jianjun laughed, his laughter full of sarcasm.

"How many petitions have you suppressed before? Now that it's your turn, you feel it's unfair?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

When Sun Changhe spoke again, his voice had calmed down, carrying the smoothness that comes from spending most of his life in the system.

"Old Sun, that's not what I meant. What I meant was, we're all in this together now. Han Qiming filming the surrender video shows that the government doesn't want to fight anymore and wants to talk to the Song Dynasty. But if the Song Dynasty is really willing to talk, the first thing they'll want is our heads. Do you think Han Qiming will hand us over?"

Sun Jianjun remained silent.

Zhao Yong stopped the beer can in his hand at his mouth.

That hits the nail on the head.

In an effort to quell the situation, Han Qiming even filmed a video urging Han to surrender.

If the Song Dynasty says, "I can surrender, but first hand over all the people who harmed me back then."

Whether Han Qiming will hand it over or not.

It would be embarrassing to hand it over.

If you don't pay, then keep fighting.

But can Han Qiming win?

The blood mist over Shikan Village has not yet dissipated; it can be seen from satellites in the sky.

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

Zhao Yong put down the beer can.

"We can't go out."

Sun Changhe lowered his voice even further.

"There are men with sharp blades outside. If we take even half a step out of this building, they have the right to kill us on the spot. But if we can find a way to let the Song Dynasty know that the mastermind behind what happened back then was Tang Ming and Zhang Jinshan, and that we were just following orders, maybe he won't necessarily kill us."

"Do you want him to forgive you?"

Sun Jianjun sneered.

"The daughter he raised for three years wasn't his. His wife was a pawn planted in his inner circle. He was beaten so badly he could never have children again. He was beaten half to death in the interrogation room, and two of his fingers were broken. All of this was done while following orders. Do you think he would care whether you were the mastermind or just following orders?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

After a long time, Sun Changhe's voice rang out again.

"Then what's your solution?"

There's no way.

Sun Jianjun stubbed out his cigarette.

"Wash your neck and wait."

The phone hangs up.

The room returned to silence.

Zhao Yong looked at Sun Jianjun, while Sun Jianjun looked out the window.

It was already dark outside the window. The shadows of the two pomegranate trees in the yard were stretched thin and long by the searchlight, like two corpses hanging from the trees.

"Oh shit."

Zhao Yong smashed the beer can into the trash can.

"Go to sleep. We'll deal with tomorrow's problems tomorrow."

He pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.

------

Six hundred meters west of the safe house, in an abandoned farm machinery warehouse, Song Chao stood behind a dusty window, his eyes closed, his mental energy spreading out like a tide.

The warehouse was filled with rusty tractor parts, and the air was thick with the smell of diesel fuel mixed with rust.

Several mice were squeaking in the corner, but suddenly, as if sensing something, they all stopped squeaking and shrank into the hole in the wall, trembling.

Song Chao's fingertips trembled slightly.

Fine beads of blood seeped from his pores, coalescing into dark red droplets on his fingertips, hovering in mid-air and slowly rotating.

He was investigating.

Within a one-kilometer radius, the flow of blood in every living person is as clear to him as the lines on his palm.

The three layers of defense surrounding the safe house looked like transparent glass to him.

On the outermost layer, two hundred members of the Sharp Blade team were scattered in the surrounding houses, with six people in each house, rotating in shifts of three to three, changing shifts every two hours.

Their blood flow was steady, their breathing was even, and their heart rate was around 65 beats per minute.

As professional soldiers, they possess excellent mental fortitude and have not become lax despite being stationed there for extended periods.

But there are also problems.

A very familiar emotion flows in their blood.

numbness.

After standing guard for more than twelve hours, repeatedly confirming that the infrared sensors had not alarmed, the vital signs monitors were not abnormal, and the satellites in the sky had not captured any suspicious targets, even the most elite soldiers would involuntarily develop a sense of "maybe nothing will happen tonight."