Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Don't touch my parents!

Suddenly, a series of chaotic footsteps came from ahead, interspersed with vulgar laughter and curses—which sounded particularly jarring and heartbreaking in the dead of night.

"Have you heard? That girl today... she's as fresh and tender as a newly sprouted cabbage, just looking at her makes my heart itch. Later, we guys are going to have some fun."

The voice was shrill and grating, carrying an indescribable lewdness and vulgarity, like claws covered in filth scratching at one's eardrums.

"Hmph, of course. Working for the Imperial Army, how could we not get some benefits?" Another person quickly echoed, his tone full of flattery and enthusiasm.

He Yuzhu's heart sank, his hurried steps involuntarily slowed down, and his back quietly tensed.

He silently moved closer in the direction of the sound, squinting in the faint light reflected from the snow to see what was happening—

Seven or eight traitors dressed in black detective uniforms were seen escorting two Japanese soldiers carrying Type 38 rifles, their arms around each other's shoulders as they slipped into a narrow alley.

The foul language pierced his ears like fine steel needles, making his stomach churn and his throat feel nauseous.

He Yuzhu's anger surged to the top of his head, and the heat in his chest almost exploded.

He didn't have a particularly strong sense of justice, but the nausea and disgust rising from the bottom of his heart assaulted his brain, forcing him to unconsciously clench his fingers into a tight fist.

Anyway, he was going to deal with the bodies tonight—it didn't really matter to him whether he disposed of one or ten.

His eyes suddenly changed, like a blade forged in a fierce fire, sharp enough to cut through the night, and cold enough to contain no warmth whatsoever.

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging emotions in his heart. After his breathing calmed down a bit, he crouched down and pressed himself against the wall, quietly following along like a withered leaf being swept by the wind.

The alley was narrow and dark, with towering walls on both sides completely blocking out the moonlight. Only a few pale rays of light struggled to seep in through the cracks in the walls, casting mottled shadows on the ground.

The place was dark and cramped, like an airtight bag, making it the perfect spot to make a move; even the wind seemed to avoid the alley.

He Yuzhu moved slowly along the shadow of the wall, like a black cat poised to pounce. His footsteps were so light that his shoes made no sound as they rubbed against the snow.

When the distance closed to just a few steps, he took out two bayonets from his system space—the blades were still stained with undried dark red blood and gleamed with a cold metallic luster, clearly parts of the sidearms of the Japanese soldiers from earlier.

He stomped off the ground and pounced like a cheetah, aiming straight for the nearest detective. His movements were so fast that he was just a blur.

In the instant he leaped high into the air, he unleashed the "Overlord Elbow" from Bajiquan—"Bang!" The tip of his elbow slammed solidly into the man's back, producing a dull thud that made the air in the alley tremble.

Immediately afterwards, the bayonet was thrust forward, piercing the opponent's neck with a "thud," the sensation of the blade sinking into flesh traveling up to the fingertips.

The man didn't even have time to scream. He only let out a short "uh" before collapsing to the ground with a thud, lifeless. His blood stained a small patch of dark red on the snow.

"Feng Laoqi! Can't you watch where you're going? You're blocking my way!" Someone in front turned around and cursed, his tone full of annoyance.

His response was a bayonet flying towards him. In the instant the cold light flashed—"Thud!" The tip of the blade precisely pierced the man's throat, the force so great that the blade trembled slightly.

The traitor's eyes widened, and he gasped for breath, clutching his neck tightly with both hands. Blood gushed out from between his fingers, dripping down his chin onto the snow.

His body went limp and he collapsed to his knees, then lay sprawled out, completely dead, his eyes still fixed on the darkness at the alley entrance.

He Yuzhu's movements did not stop at all. Like a fleeting ghost, he continued to rush towards the remaining people, his figure appearing and disappearing in the shadows.

The remaining guys then realized what was happening and hurriedly turned around to raise their guns in alertness. The dark muzzles of the guns gleamed in the darkness, making people uneasy.

"Baka! Who goes there?" a Japanese soldier yelled at the top of his lungs, his rifle bolt clicking as he aimed wildly around, but he couldn't see a single person.

But he aimed in the wrong direction—He Yuzhu was small and thin, and was currently huddled in the shadows of the low wall, completely out of his sights, like a stone melting into the night.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, He Yuzhu crouched down and rushed in front of him, stabbing the man's jaw from bottom to top with his bayonet, piercing straight through the skull, and splattering warm blood on the back of his frozen hands.

After succeeding, he casually grabbed the heavy Type 38 rifle and stored it in his system space, the action as practiced as if he had done it a thousand times.

The alley was so dark that they couldn't even see each other's faces. Neither Japanese soldiers nor traitors dared to fire rashly—fearing they might accidentally injure their own people in the chaos—and could only anxiously hold their guns.

In that brief moment of hesitation, He Yuzhu had already rolled into the shadows beside him, without even the hem of his clothes touching the snow on the alley wall.

Seeing his comrade fall, another Japanese soldier hurriedly turned his gun in this direction, his finger trembling slightly as he pulled the trigger—"Thud!" The bayonet pierced his chest and half of the blade protruded from his back, blood and foam continuously gushing from his mouth and nose.

He swayed twice before falling heavily to the ground, splashing snow everywhere, and his Type 38 rifle landed with a thud a short distance away.

He Yuzhu secretly rejoiced: thankfully, this alley was so dark that you couldn't see your own fingers, you could barely see your own.

Two traitors remained. The two were already terrified, their legs trembling. They jumped on their bicycles and tried to escape, the wheels squeaking as they rolled over the snow.

How could He Yuzhu let them slip away so easily? He rushed forward, kicking over one of the bicycles, scattering the contents of its basket all over the ground.

The other traitor had already pedaled several meters away, the handlebars wobbling violently, clearly panicked. He Yuzhu pulled out a hand grenade from his system space—it had been taken from the Japanese soldier, the yellowish-brown shell still covered in mud, the fuse not yet pulled.

He swung his arm and slammed the grenade down hard on the back of the man's head! "Bang!" The grenade hit the back of the head, and the traitor fell to the ground along with his bicycle. His head hit the curb and he died on the spot. The bicycle was on his leg, and the bicycle bell was still swaying slightly.

He Yuzhu walked back to the first traitor who had been kicked down. The man was injured in the leg and lay paralyzed on the ground, unable to move. When he saw He Yuzhu approaching, he was so frightened that his pupils shrank to pinpoints.