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

Chen Feng accepted all comers.

Hand grenades, bullets, signal flares, smoke grenades—anything your fingers touch, you collect.

The shelves are empty.

He then walked to the corner of the wall and put the bundles of spears inside.

Finally, there was a small iron cabinet by the door. When I opened it, I found several daggers, two police revolvers, and dozens of loose bullets inside.

Chen Feng accepted them all.

He stood in the empty armory for a while, looking around.

The metal cabinet doors were all open, the wooden crates on the shelves were all empty, and the corners were bare, without even a single bullet left.

He turned around, pushed open the door, and walked out.

It was still so dark outside.

The moon was completely obscured by clouds, and not a single ray of light could be seen.

The barbed wire on the wall swayed gently in the wind, making a faint metallic sound.

The sound of waves crashing against the embankment could be heard in the distance, splash, splash, splash.

Chen Feng climbed over the wall and landed on the highway outside.

He glanced back at the dusty wall, then turned and walked into the alley, disappearing into the darkness.

4 a.m., police station.

The Indian patrol officer on duty yawned and stood up to stretch his limbs.

Nothing much happened that night; he was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open.

He carried his teacup to the door, looked at the dark street outside, and yawned again.

Footsteps sounded behind me. A colleague came out; he was also Indian and on the night shift.

"Good morning," my colleague said.

"morning."

The two stood at the door and chatted casually for a few minutes.

As dawn approached, the eastern sky began to lighten, and people started to move about the streets, with breakfast carts creaking and groaning as they passed by.

It's time to change shifts.

The new patrolman walked in, yawning, and took the keys.

The two people on night shift put down their teacups, packed their things, and prepared to leave.

The armory keys hung on the wall, a heavy bunch, and no one ever thought to check them.

After daybreak, warehouse manager Lao Liang, carrying a teacup, slowly walked to the entrance of the armory.

He worked at the police station for over twenty years, and every morning he would open the armory door and take inventory of the items inside—a routine he never broke.

He took out his key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it—the lock didn't open.

He twisted it again, but it still wouldn't open.

Looking down, I saw the lock was gone.

Old Liang rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was indeed gone.

The door was bare except for a keyhole, without even a trace of a lock.

His hands began to tremble, and he nearly dropped the teacup. He pushed open the door and went inside.

The cabinet doors were all open.

The wooden crates on the shelf were all open.

There was nothing there.

Not a single bullet was left.

Old Liang's legs went weak, and he leaned against the door frame.

He opened his mouth, trying to shout, but nothing came out.

My throat felt like it was blocked by something, and I could only make muffled breathy sounds.

After a long while, he finally managed to squeeze out a distorted cry from his throat: "Help! Guns! Guns are gone! All gone!"

The police station was in an uproar.

Everyone was running, shouting, and asking what was going on.

William rushed down from the second floor, his face ashen, and grabbed Lao Liang by the collar.

"What happened?!"

Old Liang was trembling all over, his lips were quivering, and he couldn't say a word.

William released him and rushed into the armory.

The house was empty, with an open iron cabinet and empty wooden crates; not even a single bullet remained.

He stood there, his mind blank.

The plainclothes officer next to him whispered, "Mr. William, the doors and windows are fine, and the locks aren't broken. This...this doesn't look like a theft."

William turned to look at him.

"What does that look like?"

The plainclothes officer opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word.

William walked out of the armory and stood in the corridor.

The clock on the wall pointed to 8:15. The sun shone brightly outside the window, and people were coming and going on the street. Everything was normal, like any other ordinary morning.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Check. Call all the people who were on duty last night."

The news of the missing gun at the Yau Ma Tei Police Station spread like wildfire, reaching both the underworld and legitimate circles of Hong Kong Island within half a day.

Yau Ma Tei Police Station, Detective's Office.

The curtains were drawn, letting in no light. The ashtray on the table was overflowing with cigarette butts, filling the room with smoke that made one's throat tighten.

Yan Tong sat behind his desk, a cigar between his fingers, but he didn't light it.

A smile played on his lips, but it was brief, a fleeting smile in the dim light.

Sitting opposite him was a plainclothes officer, one of his trusted confidants at the police station, who was in charge of gathering information.

The plainclothes officer leaned forward: "Brother Yan, William got a severe scolding from above. He has seven days to find his lost gun, or he'll be packing his bags and going back to England."

Yan Tong put the cigar in his mouth and slowly chewed the filter.

"Seven days? More than a hundred guns, countless grenades and bullets, and you think they'll grow legs and run back in seven days?"

The plainclothes officer smiled.

"That's right. Those guys down there, they readily agree, but who's really going to risk their lives for them?"

Yan Tong leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling.

The British lost their guns and were in a panic.

Why is he in such a hurry?

He didn't lose the gun.

He remembered William's face, and his usual aloof demeanor.

He'd only been in Hong Kong Island a few days, but he was already bossing everyone around, acting as if the entire police station belonged to him alone.

Now look what's happened, he's lost his gun, and his superiors have scolded him. Let's see how long he can stay so smug.

"Just let the brothers keep an eye on things. Investigate what needs to be investigated, ask what needs to be asked, and don't let anyone find fault. As for whether they can find anything—that's not our problem."

The plainclothes officer nodded, got up, and walked out.

Yan Tong placed the unlit cigar on the table, a smile appearing on his lips again.

Leilo's office was at the other end, with the window open, letting in sunlight that cast bright patches of light on the floor.

He sat behind his desk, holding a piece of paper in his hand. It was a notice of assistance issued from above, with strong wording, demanding that all police stations fully cooperate and solve the case within a specified time.

Lei Luo placed the paper on the table. The foreigner became furious.

Find the lost gun within seven days, or William is fired.

He leaned back in his chair, looking out at the blue sky.

The gun's gone, the foreigner's panic, the Chinese detective's amusement. And him?

He also found it amusing.

But it's not just about watching the jokes.

Lei Luo stood up and walked to the window.

More than a hundred guns and countless grenades and bullets, able to be taken from the police station's armory silently—this person is no ordinary individual.

If they could find this person, or at least know who did it—he looked away and walked back to his desk to sit down.

The door was pushed open, and a plainclothes officer walked in.

"Brother Luo, the news has spread everywhere. The underworld is in an uproar, everyone's guessing who did it."

Lei Luo looked at him. "Guess what?"

The plainclothes officer said, "Guess who has the guts. Stealing a gun from a police station isn't something just anyone would do. Some say it might be forces from the north, some say it might be warlords from Southeast Asia, and others say—"

Lei Luo raised his hand to interrupt him. "Alright. Tell the brothers to keep a close eye on things, and report back immediately if there's any news."

The plainclothes officer nodded, turned, and left.