Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

As night fell, the Earth God Temple in the west of the city was shrouded in deathly silence.

Chen Feng arrived two hours early. He crouched behind a withered tree behind the temple, wrapped in a tattered military overcoat he'd salvaged from a garbage dump, his face covered with a black cloth, only his eyes visible. He carried two knives in his pocket—a dagger and a kitchen knife, both blades razor-sharp.

He waited patiently, like a stone statue, motionless. His ears were perked up, listening to the sounds around him; his eyes, like those of an eagle, scanned every direction.

At 7:50, footsteps could be heard in the distance.

Chen Feng immediately became alert, gripping the knife in his arms tightly. The footsteps were light but steady, clearly those of someone skilled in martial arts. A person was approaching from the east.

The man stopped at the temple entrance. He was a burly man in his thirties, wearing a black cotton-padded coat with his hat pulled low. He looked around to make sure no one was there before entering the temple.

Chen Feng waited for a while, and only after confirming that no one else was following him did he quietly emerge from behind the tree and enter the temple.

The temple was dark, with only moonlight streaming in through the broken windows, barely enough to make out shadows. The man, standing before the clay statue of the local earth god, turned around upon hearing footsteps.

The two exchanged a glance.

The man sized up Chen Feng, his eyes sharp: "Brother, which gang are you from?"

Chen Feng lowered his voice and imitated the slang he had heard from the black market: "Begging for food on the road to hell."

This was the code the old man had given him. The man nodded and asked, "Never heard of you before, are you new here?"

Chen Feng said briefly, "I just arrived in Beijing and I'm short on money, so I'm looking for some work to do."

The man looked him over a few more times, seemingly convinced: "Alright, two more brothers will be coming later, you can go together then."

"Where to?" Chen Feng asked.

"We'll find out when the time comes," the man said. "They're offering a high price, a hundred per person. But the job won't be easy; the target is a tough nut to crack, he's already killed six people."

Chen Feng's heart sank. It really was coming for him.

"What's the target?" he asked, feigning curiosity.

"A fugitive named Chen Feng," the man said, "from the courtyard house in the south of the city. His employer, who works in the courtyard, scraped together three hundred yuan to take his life."

Chen Feng gripped the small knife hidden in his sleeve. Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, Yan Bugui, it really was you. You scraped together three hundred yuan? Did every household in the courtyard contribute?

good very good.

He slowly approached the man, pretending to listen intently. The man continued, "That kid's ruthless, clean-cut, even the police can't catch him. That's why the employer offered a high price to settle things once and for all."

Chen Feng had already walked to within two steps of the man. Suddenly, he moved.

With her left hand, she covered the man's mouth, while with her right hand, she held a small knife to the man's neck.

"Don't move," Chen Feng's voice was icy. "Scream or die."

The man froze, but didn't panic. He was indeed an experienced fighter, reacting extremely quickly. He swiftly elbowed Chen Feng in the chest, while simultaneously grabbing Chen Feng's wrist holding the knife with his left hand and twisting it forcefully.

Chen Feng groaned, a sharp pain shooting through his wrist, nearly dropping the knife. But he gritted his teeth and slammed his knee into the man's lower back.

"Bang!"

The man winced in pain and released his grip. Chen Feng seized the opportunity to slash at his neck, but the man dodged to the side, only managing to tear his clothes and a small patch of flesh.

The two took two steps apart and faced each other.

The temple was dark, and all that could be seen was the other person's blurry figure and those eyes that glowed in the darkness.

"Who are you?" the man asked in a low voice, his hand slowly moving towards his waist.

Chen Feng didn't answer; he saw the man's movements. There was something in his waistband—it could be a knife, or it could be…

He charged forward, giving the man no chance to grab anything. The two grappled again, exchanging blows and flashing knives.

The man was indeed formidable, strong, and his moves ruthless, every punch aimed at vital points. But Chen Feng was even more ruthless—he didn't care about injury, didn't care about pain, his heart was filled only with killing intent. Every slash was aimed at the neck, at the heart, at any place that could be fatal.

"laugh--"

Chen Feng slashed the man's arm, the cut so deep it exposed bone. The man cried out in pain, his movements slowing slightly. Chen Feng seized the opportunity, kicking him in the stomach and sending him sprawling to the ground.

The man tried to get up, but Chen Feng pounced on him, stabbing him in the shoulder and pinning him to the ground.

"Ah—!" the man screamed, but Chen Feng covered his mouth tightly.

Chen Feng was panting heavily, the knife still embedded in the man's shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the ground red.

"Tell me," Chen Feng whispered hoarsely in the man's ear, "who put down the bid? Who in the courtyard initiated it?"

The man gritted his teeth, his eyes wide, but he didn't say a word.

Chen Feng knew these people had rules: once they took money, they couldn't betray their employers. But he needed to know who had organized this.

He pressed the knife down a little further, the blade scraping against the bone, making a teeth-grinding sound.

"explain."

The man was trembling with pain, but he still shook his head.

Chen Feng stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly understood. He couldn't get an answer from them. These people had taken the money; they'd rather die than talk.

He nodded, drew his knife, and then slit the man's throat.

Blood gushed out, the man twitched a few times, and then remained still.

Chen Feng crouched down and rummaged through the man's body. He pulled out a hard object from the waist—a pistol!

His heart skipped a beat, and he examined it closely. It was a Type 54 pistol, its body ice-cold, about 70% new. He then pulled out three magazines, each holding seven bullets. There were also more than twenty rounds of shotgun ammunition.

Good heavens, these desperados actually have guns!

Chen Feng put away the gun and magazine, then searched the man and found some money, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, and a note.

The note read: "8 PM tomorrow, abandoned brick kiln in the south of the city, hand it over to the person."

Below is another address, which is a contact point near the courtyard house.

Chen Feng put the note away and stood up. He looked at the man's body, then at the outside of the temple.

Two more people are supposed to arrive. They were supposed to arrive at 8:00. It's 7:55 now, they should be here soon.

Chen Feng dragged the body behind the clay statue of the Earth God and covered it with a tattered straw mat. Then he checked his pistol, released the safety, and chambered a round. He hadn't used a gun much, only firing a few rounds during militia training, but he still remembered the basic operation.

He tucked the gun into his coat, gripped the kitchen knife in his hand, and sheathed the dagger at his waist. Then he stepped out of the temple gate, hid in the shadows behind it, and waited.

At 7:58, footsteps could be heard again in the distance.

This time there were two people, one in front of the other, walking very lightly. The two stopped at the temple entrance.

"Old Black? Old Black?" someone whispered.

No one responded.

The two men exchanged a glance, both becoming wary. One pulled a knife from his pocket, while the other reached for his waist.

Chen Feng watched from behind the door, gripping his gun tightly. But he didn't fire; a loud gunshot would attract the police. He needed to deal with these two men quietly.

He quietly retreated, climbed out of the small window at the back of the temple, and circled around to the two men's back.

The two were peering out of the temple gate, completely unaware of the person behind them. Chen Feng, like a cat, approached silently and then pounced.

"puff--"

The cleaver struck the first man on the back of the neck, and he collapsed without uttering a sound. The second man reacted, turning to strike with his cleaver, but Chen Feng dodged to the side and simultaneously kicked him in the stomach.

The man took a few steps back, but didn't fall; instead, he pounced even more fiercely. The two began to fight at the temple entrance, their blades flashing and their fists and feet clashing.

Chen Feng gripped a kitchen knife in his left hand and a dagger in his right, launching a fierce attack. His opponent was no less formidable, wielding a short knife with impenetrable skill. The two exchanged blows, neither gaining the upper hand for the time being.

But Chen Feng had a gun. He deliberately created an opening, letting the man slash his arm with a knife. At the same time, he turned around, pulled out a pistol from his pocket, and pressed it against the man's forehead.

"Don't move," Chen Feng said, panting.

The man froze, his eyes fixed on the dark muzzle of the gun.

"Tell me," Chen Feng asked, "who is the employer?"

The man gritted his teeth and remained silent.

"The deaf old lady? Yi Zhonghai? Liu Haizhong? Yan Bugui?" Chen Feng asked them one by one.

The man's eyes flickered when he heard "deaf old lady".

Chen Feng understood. It was the deaf old woman who started it all. The oldest woman in the courtyard, who usually looked kind and gentle, he never expected her to be so ruthless.

"Fine," Chen Feng said, "you can die now."

"Wait..." The man wanted to say something, but Chen Feng had already pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

The gunshots were particularly jarring in the quiet night, startling crows in the distant trees, which cawed and flew away.

Chen Feng glanced at the body lying on the ground, then looked around. The gunshots were so loud; the police would be here soon. He couldn't stay any longer.

He quickly searched the two corpses, finding some money and weapons. Then he returned to the temple, dragged out Old Black's body as well, and piled the three bodies together.

He pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit the tattered straw mat, and threw it on the corpse. The fire quickly blazed up and grew stronger.

Chen Feng stood by the fire, watching the three corpses slowly deform and char in the flames. The firelight illuminated his face, which was expressionless except for the cold flames dancing in his eyes.

Three hundred dollars to hire three people to kill him.

Now that these three people are dead, all the money was wasted.

But this wasn't the end of it. The deaf old woman, Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, Yan Bugui, and all the people in the courtyard who contributed money…

None of them can escape.

The fire grew larger and larger, and Chen Feng turned and left. He walked back the way he came, his steps quick but steady. A gun was tucked into his pocket, a knife was in his hand, and a fire burned in his heart.

It was almost ten o'clock when Chen Feng returned to the restaurant. The owner was already asleep, and the restaurant was pitch black. Chen Feng went in through the back door and returned to his small room.

He closed the door, bolted it, then leaned against it and let out a long sigh.

The wound on his arm was still bleeding, so he tore off a piece of cloth and bandaged it up simply. The wound wasn't deep, but it hurt.

He walked to the bedside, sat down, and pulled the pistol from his pocket. The gun was cold, its metallic sheen gleaming in the dim light. He then took out three magazines and counted the bullets—twenty-eight rounds in total, enough for him.

With a gun, things become much easier.

But gunshots are too loud; they can only be used as a last resort. He still has to use a knife to kill silently.

Chen Feng hid the gun and magazine, then lay down and closed his eyes.

My mind is a mess. That deaf old woman, that usually kind-looking old lady, actually hired someone to kill him. Everyone in the neighborhood paid money to have him dead.

good very good.

Then he'll show them what real death is.

Next up, the deaf old lady.

But the deaf old woman lives in the backyard and doesn't usually go out, making it difficult to target her. Besides, there are police officers guarding the yard now, so forcing her way in is not an option.

We need to think of a solution.

Chen Feng opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He needed to lure the deaf old woman out to a secluded place.

How to extract it?

He suddenly remembered something—the deaf old woman would go to the temple outside the city to burn incense on the fifteenth of every month, rain or shine. Tomorrow was the fifteenth.

The opportunity is here.

Chen Feng sat up, pulled the slip of paper out from the crack in the wall, and looked at the address on it: Abandoned brick kiln in the south of the city, hand it over to the person.

Hand over the person? Hand over whom? His body?

It seems these people originally planned to meet at the abandoned brick kiln tomorrow night to take Chen Feng's body back and report back.

The plan has failed, but the deaf old woman may not know it yet.

Chen Feng thought for a moment and then came up with an idea.

He lay back down and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, the fifteenth, he would go to the temple to offer incense.

He will wait for you on the road.

Waiting for that kind-faced old lady.

Let her know the price of hiring someone to kill.

The night was deep and quiet.

The only sounds were the occasional barking of dogs in the distance and the whistling of the wind through the cracks in the windows.

Chen Feng fell asleep, but his sleep was very light.

In my dream, there was blood again.