National Guardian's Gone and We're Done

An indescribable sense of unease settled in Zheng Bolan’s heart.

These young people, also from the Great Xia Empire, had a strange, unspoken air about them.

It felt as if they had planned this, as if they were targeting him specifically.

This filled Zheng Bolan with doubt.

He clearly remembered

that this whole affair had started simply because he was on a street in Chiyoda City

and had chanced upon two peerless beauties who looked like fairies descended to the mortal realm.

Captivated by their beauty, he had taken the initiative to approach and talk to them.

’So why do I now have this inexplicable feeling,’

’that these young people were deliberately luring me into a trap?’

Zheng Bolan was caught in a deep internal conflict.

He was by no means a reckless fool ruled by his base desires.

While his everyday conduct was a bit flamboyant,

that was a fairly common trait among the youth of the White-Red Empire; he was hardly unique.

When Zheng Bolan was young, his parents had solemnly warned him

that the White-Red Empire was not, ultimately, their home.

Even though their family had lived and toiled there for decades,

and had achieved some measure of success,

that bone-deep sense of belonging remained elusive.

Therefore, his parents had always been waiting for an opportunity to arise—

an opportunity that would let them take everything they had painstakingly built in the White-Red Empire

and bring it all back to their homeland.

However, this long-awaited opportunity

had remained elusive, as intangible as the moon’s reflection in water, never materializing.

Now, as Zheng Bolan looked at the young man before him, the one called Mr. Chu,

a bold idea suddenly surfaced in his mind.

He secretly wondered, ’Could this Mr. Chu be the very opportunity they had been waiting for all these years?’

But the moment the thought appeared, he immediately dismissed it.

’After all, a chance like that is far too remote.’

Or perhaps, this potential opportunity had presented itself too suddenly, too forcefully,

like a storm appearing without warning,

making it all feel so surreal that Zheng Bolan didn’t dare to believe it.

Just then, the traffic light turned from red to green,

and the wide avenue, broad as a rushing river, instantly burst into life.

A tide of pedestrians surged from all directions, flowing back and forth, weaving ceaselessly.

The crowd, dense as an anthill, flooded the crosswalk,

a cacophony of footsteps and chatter rising into a noisy urban symphony.

Yumizakura suddenly narrowed her enchanting, limpid eyes,

a mysterious, half-smiling expression on her face as she glanced toward Chu He.

Seeing his placid expression, as calm as still water and seemingly untouched by the surrounding chaos,

she understood immediately. She slowly retracted her gaze, already comprehending Chu He’s intent.

Xia Chengli was about to make a move, but Chu He’s hand shot out like lightning

and firmly grasped her small, delicate hand.

A faint blush instantly spread across Xia Chengli’s cheeks, as if brushed by the evening sky.

The crimson hue was like a blooming peach blossom, vibrant and lovely.

It made her already stunning face seem even more delicate and adorable,

turning her into a fine work of art that radiated an irresistible charm.

One couldn’t help but feel the urge to draw near and plant a kiss on that rosy cheek,

or even the desire to tenderly cherish her flawless, jade-like skin, which looked so perfect it was almost edible.

Just as Zheng Bolan found himself momentarily mesmerized by the beautiful scene,

he suddenly felt a chill at his waist, cold as a snake,

slithering up the small of his back.

Immediately after, a sharp pain spread like a surging wave,

growing more intense with each passing moment.

He instinctively looked down and discovered to his horror

that a cold, gleaming dagger was lodged in the small of his back.

The dagger was about seven or eight centimeters long.

Its sharp blade was buried deep in his flesh.

Blood gushed from the wound like water from a broken dam,

instantly soaking his pant leg.

Whether it was the shock of seeing the bloody wound

or the severity of the injury itself,

Zheng Bolan’s legs gave out, losing all strength to support him.

Within seconds, he could no longer stand.

His body crumpled to the ground.

The surrounding pedestrians finally noticed that something was wrong.

Instantly,

terrified screams erupted from the crowd,

shattering the noisy harmony of the street.

The entire atmosphere instantly grew tense and horrifying.

"This is just a warning.

You and your parents should know full well

that if you stubbornly insist on continuing down this path,

the next dagger won’t just be going into the small of your back.

It will go straight for your heart."

With that, the man who had stabbed Zheng Bolan

slowly closed his four fingers into a fist,

leaving only his thumb extended. He raised it to the left side of his own neck.

Then, like the cold scythe of the Death God,

his thumb slowly traced an arc across his throat from left to right.

The gesture was slow and filled with menace.

The blatant warning

sent a bone-deep chill through Zheng Bolan.

He knew, with terrifying certainty, that this man was not bluffing.