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

At the warehouse entrance.

William stood outside and waited for a long time.

There was no movement in the warehouse; the lights were still on, but no one came out or called out.

He frowned, a vague feeling that something was wrong.

"What happened?"

A plainclothes officer next to him asked in a low voice.

William didn't answer, staring at the tightly closed iron door, his hand on the gun at his waist.

It's too quiet—so quiet it's unsettling.

After waiting a few more minutes, the lights in the warehouse suddenly went out.

The entire warehouse was plunged into darkness, with only a sliver of light from the streetlamp at the entrance illuminating the blurry outlines inside.

William's expression changed.

"Charge in!"

he shouted.

A dozen or so policemen, guns at the ready, rushed toward the warehouse entrance.

Just then—BOOM!

With a loud bang, the warehouse door was blown off.

The iron gate was lifted up like a piece of paper, flipped several times in the air, and crashed to the ground a few meters away with a dull thud.

Flames burst out from the doorway, and a wave of heat hit him. William was thrown to the ground by the shockwave, his ears ringing.

He lay on the ground, raised his head, and saw flames shooting into the sky inside the warehouse.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The explosions continued, each one louder than the last.

The entire warehouse trembled in the flames, the corrugated iron roof was lifted up and then fell down, making a piercing metallic clanging sound.

Fragments of wooden crates, gun barrels, and bullet casings flew everywhere, falling like rain.

Several policemen lay on the ground, covering their heads, too afraid to move.

A young policeman was so frightened that he was trembling all over, his lips were shaking, and tears were streaming down his face.

William lay on the ground, his mind blank.

The goods—those weapons—were all blown up.

He suddenly stood up and rushed towards the warehouse.

"Put out the fire! Put out the fire quickly!"

Several policemen followed him and rushed inside.

The warehouse was in a mess, with wooden crates scattered all over the floor, charred marks on the walls, and the air thick with the smell of gunpowder and burnt metal.

Twisted gun barrels and spent cartridges were scattered on the ground, some still smoking.

William stood amidst the ruins, his face ashen.

He turned to look at the plainclothes officer next to him.

Where are they?

The plainclothes officer shook his head, his voice dry.

"I...I didn't see it. It might have run away."

William clenched his fists.

He painstakingly set up surveillance for three days and mobilized more than a dozen people, but in the end he got nothing.

The goods exploded, and the people ran away. How is he going to explain himself?

"Search! Search! Dig three feet into the ground to find him!"

His voice echoed across the ruins.

A dozen or so police officers dispersed and searched the warehouse.

William stood there, looking at the ruins, recalling Xie Wanying's words—"That Yankee is troublesome."

He didn't take it seriously at the time, but now that he knows, it's really troublesome.

Outside the dock, Gap Tooth stood in the darkness, looking at the firelight in the direction of the warehouse.

Tie Tou ran up from behind, panting heavily.

"They're all blown up?" asked the gap-toothed man.

Tie Tou nodded.

"They were all blown up. Not a single one was left."

The man with the gap-toothed tooth glanced at him.

"Let's go."

The two turned and disappeared into the night.

Docks and warehouse ruins.

Dawn was breaking, and a thin mist shrouded the sea.

The ruins were still smoking, and the air was filled with the smell of burning.

Several police officers were searching through the ruins.

William stood in the middle of the ruins, his face still grim.

An undercover officer ran over.

"Mr. William, we've found it."

William looked at him. "What did you find?"

The plainclothes officer said, "It's a tunnel. It runs from the back of the warehouse to the dock, about a hundred meters long. That's how people escaped."

William walked over, squatted down, and looked at the dark hole.

The tunnel was very narrow, only wide enough for one person to bend over and pass through.

He shone his flashlight inside and found it was full of mud and messy footprints.

He stood up and dusted off his hands.

"Filled it out."

The plainclothes officer nodded.

William turned, walked to the police car, opened the door, and got in. The car started and slowly drove away.

He leaned back in his seat, looking out at the gray sky.

You might escape this time, but you won't escape next time.

Yau Ma Tei, Hong Kong Island.

The Golden Princess nightclub was not yet open; only a few cleaners were sweeping the entrance.

A black sedan was parked in the alley at the back door.

Gaptooth and Ironhead got out of the car and walked through the back door. Neither of them looked well; their clothes were covered in ash, and their faces bore traces of soot.

The door to the third-floor office opened. Chen Feng sat behind his desk, looking at them.

"You're back?"

He nodded, his gap-toothed jaw agape. "I'm back."

Chen Feng looked at them. "Are you injured?"

The man with the gap-toothed grin shook his head. "No. The goods just exploded."

Chen Feng leaned back in his chair. "It's exploded, so be it. As long as everyone's okay, that's all that matters."

The man with the gap-toothed grin looked at him. "Big Steel, what about the police—"

Chen Feng raised his hand to interrupt him. "I'll handle the police situation. You guys go and rest."

The man with the gap-toothed man nodded, turned around, and Iron Head followed behind him. The two of them walked out quickly.

The door closed behind me.

Chen Feng sat there, staring at the closed door.

The goods exploded, and the people ran away—William, I'll remember this debt.

Tsim Sha Tsui, hotel suite.

The curtains were half-drawn, and the afternoon sun shone through the French windows, casting bright patches of light on the carpet.

The surface of Victoria Harbour shimmered, and cargo ships slowly passed by in the distance, their horns drifting in through the glass, muffled and indistinct.

Xie Wanying stood by the window, wearing a light purple cheongsam, her hair tied up, and light makeup on her face.

She held a cup of tea in her hand, but didn't drink it. She looked out the window at the sea, her eyes expressionless.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and William Brown walked in.

He was dressed in dark casual clothes, his collar was open, his hair was a little messy, and he looked tired.

Those eyes, which usually shone brightly, were now bloodshot and sunken, clearly showing he hadn't slept all night. He walked up to Xie Wanying and stopped.

"Ms. Xie."

Xie Wanying turned around and sat down on the sofa.

She looked at William, a brief smile appearing on her lips, a smile that vanished in the sunlight.

"Mr. William, please have a seat."

William sat down opposite her.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, lit it, and took a deep drag.

Smoke rose in the sunlight, blurring his face.

He held the cigarette between his fingers, looked at Xie Wanying, and spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal.

"Ms. Xie, we failed to catch the Yankees red-handed this time."

Xie Wanying frowned slightly, just for a moment, and then she regained her composure.

"What a pity, what a pity."

She put down her teacup, leaned back on the sofa, and looked at William.

"Mr. William, what exactly happened?"

William took another drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, leaned forward, and placed his hands on his knees.

"You told me there were arms deals in the warehouses at the docks. I took some men there, and then—"

He paused, his voice filled with resentment.

"There were indeed weapons in the warehouse. Submachine guns, rifles, bullets, grenades, quite a lot. But the owner of that warehouse was just an old man in his seventies, and had nothing to do with the Yankees."

Xie Wanying's eyes narrowed, but only for a moment.

"An old man in his seventies?"

William nodded.

"Yes. His surname is Lin. He worked in that warehouse at the dock for half his life, saved up some money, bought the warehouse, and rented it out to others. He said he didn't know what was stored inside, he just collected rent. We checked, and it really has nothing to do with him."