Special Forces Medic

A figure slipped quietly out of a building under the cover of night. From his clumsy steps, it looked more like a panicked escape, because just as he stepped off the stairs, he tripped and went sprawling. He scrambled up off the ground in a hurry, dove into the bushes at the side without even having time to groan in pain.

Maybe the sound of his fall startled the people inside the building. The lights on the first floor snapped on, and a few men rushed out, all with guns in their hands, looking fierce as hell.

"Fuck, he ran!" one of them cursed, and the two men split up and started searching.

Only after they’d run off did the man hiding in the dark slip out. He half crouched and looked up toward the upper floors; only the first floor was lit, the second and third were as pitch‑black as the night itself. After pausing for a moment, the shadow bolted toward the main road as if some beast was tearing after him, running forward without looking back.

"You’re just letting him go like that—doesn’t this feel a bit like letting the tiger back into the mountain?" On the third floor, two men stood behind the glass, watching the person below clear as day.

"A gift before the counterattack." The thin figure looked oddly solitary in the dark. Xiao Lin tilted his head and watched Yelü Shou beside him. "Letting the tiger back into the mountain is so we can be better prepared, isn’t it? You can’t make a move on people you want dead without some kind of excuse, and my target isn’t Shao Weihua."

"You’ve already killed one senior officer of the Military Commission, and you want to take out another? Isn’t that pushing it a bit too far?"

"I’m Dragon Soul no matter how you slice it. With that kind of license to act first and report later in front of me, what can Quan Xianglin really do? Besides, it’s not like I’m killing any good people."

A dark shadow shot out of the building, streaking after the figure ahead at high speed. Yelü Shou glanced anxiously at the silhouette that had just gone out. "I’m worried Young Master Hua will lose his head."

"The only thing Shao Weihua ever did right was killing Wang Zhantian. But he also planted a time bomb for himself when he did it. Qing Yi won’t ignore the bigger picture."

The man who’d sprinted out of Black Street stuck out his hand and stopped a taxi. A figure suddenly bursting out of the darkness in the middle of the night scared the driver half to death. He wanted to refuse the fare, but it was too late. The shadow slammed the door shut and pressed something sharp against his neck.

"Drive. Or I’ll kill you."

The engine started. By the time another shadow burst out of Black Street, the yellow cab was already far down the road.

"Young Master Hua!" A car pulled up from the side not long after.

"I can handle this alone." Hua Qingyi yanked the driver out of the car and slid into the driver’s seat himself.

"But the boss said..."

"You drive too slow. Tell Xiao Lin I’ll be back tomorrow for breakfast."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? While the chauffeur stood there stunned, legs shaking, the car had already caught up to the taxi at the previous intersection. That speed alone was enough to leave him trembling on the spot.

The taxi driver who’d been held at knifepoint the whole way pulled up nervously in front of a high‑end club. The man in the back brought his hand down hard on the back of the driver’s head, knocking him out cold. He opened the door, glanced around to make sure no one was there, then carefully slipped into a nearby alley. It was one in the morning; the club was still open, lights blazing inside. The figure seemed a bit wary of going through the front, and chose to circle around to the back entrance instead.

Shao Weihua’s room was on the fourth floor. It was already past midnight and he still wasn’t sleepy. He stared into the mirror for a long time and realized he suddenly looked much older. With just a bath towel wrapped around his waist, drops of water still clung to him from his shower. His balding head had only a few strands of hair left. Now he didn’t even need gel to fix them in place; the ones hanging over his forehead looked downright ridiculous.

If you said he was Shao Qinyi’s brother, nobody would believe it; no one could see the resemblance. The two were worlds apart. Instead of calming him down, the shower had left him even more wired. That afternoon Shao Qinyi had told him they’d located that shipment, and that Quan Xianglin had temporarily agreed to spare him, depending on how he performed going forward. His life was back in his hands, but the feeling of owing that bastard a favor still left him pissed as hell.

He grabbed a towel and started drying his hair. In the mirror’s reflection, a shadow flashed past. It scared the crap out of him. He raised both hands above his head, the towel slipping from his fingers.

"Who? Who’s there?" Instead of turning around, he stared into the mirror.

The bathroom lights were bright. It was hard to hide a person in there. Looking through the mirror, the only one in the bathroom was him. Was he seeing things? With that thought, Shao Weihua bent to pick up the towel on the floor—but the moment he bent down, the fear in his chest spiked to the breaking point.

A pair of black canvas shoes appeared behind him. They were definitely not his—young, trendy style at a glance. But that wasn’t the point. The point was: there was someone standing behind him.

Something pressed against his neck, the icy touch like the barrel of a gun. Towel in his left hand, he didn’t know whether he should stand up or stay bent. But at this moment, he had to say something. "W‑who are you? Don’t hurt me. If it’s money you want, I can give you plenty, just don’t kill me."

No one answered. The cold muzzle jabbed forward, forcing the half‑rising Shao Weihua back into a squat. "D‑don’t kill me. Did Quan Xianglin send you? If you let me go, I can pay you a lot of money."

Quan Xianglin? Hua Qingyi tilted his head behind him, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile. The sound he made made Shao Weihua think he’d guessed right. The sense of having been fooled, of walking into a trap, ignited a nameless fury in him.

There was a click as a round was chambered. If he died now, there’d be nothing left to talk about. But if it was just an assassin, he still had ways to deal with him. With that thought, the towel in his left hand, soaked with water, had become stiff and solid. He feigned trembling in terror. When the assassin behind him stepped forward, he suddenly threw himself flat to the floor, whipping the towel like a lash at the back of the assassin’s calf.

Just as he expected, the masked assassin jerked upward, and Shao Weihua used that opening to yank open the bathroom door and bolt out, shouting as he ran, frantically searching for a place to hide.

Wang Zhanting had just reached the stairwell when he suddenly heard Shao Weihua’s panicked shouts and immediately sprinted toward Shao Weihua’s room on the fourth floor, a few enforcers close on his heels.

"You guys, break the door down!" The men who’d been chasing from behind recognized Wang Zhanting at a glance as Shao Weihua’s right‑hand man. They hesitated for only a second before saying nothing more and throwing their weight against the door together. They burst in just in time to see a tall man in a mask, gun in hand, aiming straight at Shao Weihua, who had fallen sitting on the floor. (To be continued. If you like this work, you’re welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote with recommendation tickets and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)