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

Chen Feng waited in a small room behind the restaurant for two whole days.

He thought things would be in chaos at the courtyard house—the deaf old woman was dead, the murder-for-hire scheme in the courtyard had been exposed, and the money had been stolen. Normally, they would either call the police or be in complete disarray. But strangely, nothing happened.

No police sirens blared, no officers arrived, and not even a sound of crying could be heard. The courtyard was as quiet as if nothing had happened.

This surprised Chen Feng. But then he realized—those people didn't dare call the police. Calling the police would be tantamount to admitting to hiring someone to kill, which would be surrendering themselves. They could only handle it quietly, bury the deaf old woman quietly, and then pretend nothing had happened.

"That's clever enough," Chen Feng sneered.

But he also knew this wasn't over. The deaf old woman was dead, but the hiring of a hitman continued. Old Dao had received the deposit and would definitely send someone. Those people, unaware of the deaf old woman's death, would still meet at the local temple as agreed.

Chen Feng must make preparations in advance.

He pulled the gun and magazine from the crack in the wall and began to inspect them. It was a Type 54 pistol, its body cold and heavy with a metallic feel. He opened the magazine and counted the bullets—seven rounds, full. There were three spare magazines, each also containing seven rounds. A total of twenty-eight rounds.

enough.

But Chen Feng still preferred using a knife. A knife was quieter, and more satisfying. He tucked his gun behind his waist, his dagger into his boot, and wrapped a kitchen knife in cloth, stuffing it into his coat pocket. Fully armed.

He needed to take the initiative. He couldn't just sit and wait for those desperados to come to him; he had to find them and deal with them before they even made a move.

But how do I find it?

Chen Feng thought of Old Knife. The old man with the scar on his face, the middleman in the black market. To find those outlaws, he had to find Old Knife first.

He needs to go to the black market.

As evening fell, Chen Feng went out. He had changed his clothes; they were the uniform of a restaurant kitchen helper, worn but clean. He smeared some dust on his face and wore a tattered hat, the brim pulled low. He looked like an ordinary worker, unlikely to attract attention on the street.

The black market was even quieter than a few days ago. It was probably because news of the three corpses at the local temple had spread, and fewer people were coming to trade. The stall owners were also very wary, staring intently at any unfamiliar face.

Chen Feng walked to the secondhand goods stall he had visited before, and the stall owner was still the same old man.

"Sir, I have something to ask you," Chen Feng said in a low voice.

The old man looked up and sized him up: "What is it?"

"Find Lao Dao."

The old man's eyes flashed: "What do you want with him?"

"There's a deal," Chen Feng said, "a big deal."

The old man hesitated for a moment, looked around, and whispered, "Old Dao hasn't been seen for the past few days. Something happened at the local temple; three people burned to death, and the police are investigating. He's gone into hiding."

Chen Feng's heart sank. Old Dao had gone into hiding? How were they going to find those desperate criminals then?

"Then...when will he come out?" Chen Feng asked.

"I don't know," the old man shook his head. "Maybe in a few days, maybe he'll never come out again. I heard that the three dead men were introduced by Old Dao. Now that something's happened, he's afraid of getting involved, so he's hiding very well."

Chen Feng understood. Old Dao was scared; he was afraid the police would find him, so he went into hiding. Since those desperados couldn't contact Old Dao, they probably wouldn't go to the local temple to meet him.

But that's not necessarily true. Those people who received the deposit might go check out the local temple. What if the deaf old woman sent someone there?

Chen Feng decided to go to the local temple tomorrow night. If someone went, he could resolve the issue. If no one went, he would consider it a wasted trip.

He paid the old man two cents and turned to leave the black market.

It was already dark when they returned to the restaurant. The owner was doing the accounts behind the counter. When he saw Chen Feng come back, he nodded but didn't say anything.

Chen Feng returned to the small room and closed the door. He took out a kitchen knife from his pocket and began to sharpen it. The blade was already very sharp, but he continued to sharpen it, stroke by stroke, rhythmically.

He was thinking about the next step.

The deaf old woman is dead, but Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui are still alive. There's also Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiefang, Jia Zhangshi, and those in the courtyard who contributed money.

None of these people should be let go.

But how to kill them? The compound is heavily guarded now; a direct assault won't work. We need to find a way to lure them out.

Chen Feng recalled the deaf old woman's iron box. Inside, besides small yellow croakers and silver dollars, were several bankbooks. The name on the bankbooks was "Zhang Cuihua," which was probably the deaf old woman's real name. The bankbooks required the account holder to withdraw money, or a death certificate and proof of being an heir were needed.

But Chen Feng could use these passbooks to his advantage.

He could leave the passbook at the entrance of the courtyard house, or mail it to Yi Zhonghai and his group. Those people would see the passbook and definitely try to withdraw the money. To withdraw money, they'd have to go to the bank, and going to the bank would leave them alone.

Once someone is alone, it's easier to make a move.

Chen Feng thought it was a good idea. He pulled out the passbooks from the crack in the wall and looked at them. One was a current account with 800 yuan; one was a fixed deposit with 1,200 yuan; and the other was a savings account with a little over 300 yuan.

The total was over 2,300 yuan, which was a huge sum of money in those days.

Yi Zhonghai and his group will definitely be tempted when they see these passbooks. The deaf old woman is dead, the money is gone, and now these passbooks suddenly appear—what will they do?

They'll definitely try to withdraw the money. But withdrawing money requires paperwork and proof. They might forge documents or use connections. No matter what method they use, they'll eventually be caught.

Chen Feng decided to throw the bankbook at the entrance of the courtyard house tomorrow.

At the same time, a strange funeral was being held in the courtyard.

The deaf old woman's body lay in the yard, covered with a white sheet. The coffin was the cheapest kind, its planks so thin they let light through. There was no mourning tent, no wreaths, no wailing. The people in the yard were all quiet, hurrying about their work, afraid to speak loudly.

Sitting in his wheelchair, Yi Zhonghai directed, "Guangfu, close the coffin lid. Jiefang, go get the nails. Lao Liu, keep an eye on the door, don't let any outsiders in."

Liu Haizhong, his belly protruding, stood at the gate of the courtyard, his eyes constantly glancing at the street outside. He was afraid the police would suddenly arrive, afraid Chen Feng would suddenly arrive, afraid of anyone who might break this eerie peace.

Yan Bugui was good at keeping accounts. How much did the deaf old lady's funeral cost? The coffin was twenty yuan, the burial clothes were five yuan, and the incense and paper money were three yuan, totaling twenty-eight yuan. Where did the money come from? Did the family in the courtyard contribute? No, the family in the courtyard has already contributed twice, we can't ask for more. Where did it come from?

He looked at Yi Zhonghai, then at Liu Haizhong, and finally gritted his teeth: "Old Yi, Old Liu, let's pay for this together. Ten yuan each, and I'll cover the rest."

Yi Zhonghai nodded without saying anything. Liu Haizhong hesitated for a moment, then nodded as well.

The three of them pooled together thirty yuan, with two yuan left over, which Yan Bugui kept for himself—considered a delivery fee.

The coffin lid was closed and nails were driven in. Four young men—Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiefang, and two other young men from the courtyard—lifted the coffin and walked towards the backyard.

The deaf old woman's grave was chosen in a corner of the backyard. There used to be a locust tree there, but it withered and died last year, so it was a good spot to dig a hole and bury her.

The pit was dug during the day; it wasn't deep, only a little over a meter. Four people put the coffin in and began filling it with soil.

Shovelfuls of earth were thrown in, landing on the coffin with a dull thud. No one cried, no one spoke, only the sound of shovels digging and the wind.

Soon, the coffin was buried, leaving a small mound of earth. There was no tombstone, only a stick stuck in the grave, with nothing written on it.

"Alright," Yi Zhonghai said, "Go back."

The four men packed up their shovels and left silently. Liu Haizhong walked last, glancing back at the small mound of earth, a feeling he couldn't quite describe welling up inside him.

The deaf old woman is dead; the last person in the courtyard who could make decisions is gone. What to do next? Chen Feng is still outside and could come back at any time. The murder-for-hire deal fell through, and the money is gone. Panic grips the courtyard; several families have already secretly moved away.

This courtyard is finished.

Back at the Intermediate People's Court, Yi Zhonghai gathered the remaining people together—Liu Haizhong, Yan Bugui, Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiefang, and a few middle-aged people who hadn't moved out yet.

"The old lady is gone," Yi Zhonghai said hoarsely, "but this isn't over yet. Chen Feng is still here, and he'll come back. We have to figure something out."

"What else can we do?" a middle-aged man said with a bitter face. "We've spent the money, the person died, and now the old lady is gone too. What can we do?"

"Let's raise the money," Yi Zhonghai said, "to raise the money again and hire even more capable people."

"Still trying to raise money?" the man exclaimed anxiously. "Our family has already contributed over thirty yuan! If we contribute any more, how will we survive?"

"But we still have to live!" Yi Zhonghai roared. "If Chen Feng doesn't die, we'll all die! Do you want to just wait to die?"

The man stopped talking, but his face was full of reluctance.

Yan Bugui adjusted his glasses and began to do the math: "Last time we raised over five hundred, the old lady took two hundred and fifty as a deposit, leaving two hundred and seventy with me. This time... let's raise another three hundred, making a total of five hundred, and then hire someone again."

"Three hundred?" Liu Guangfu said softly. "There are less than twenty households left in the courtyard now, and each household has to pay more than fifteen yuan. Some people... may not be able to afford it."

"You have to pay, whether you can or not!" Liu Haizhong slammed his fist on the table. "This is for everyone's lives! Anyone who doesn't pay can forget about living in this courtyard!"

Those were harsh words, but they were effective. Now everyone in the compound is like a frightened bird; no one dares to be the first to speak out.

"Fine," the middle-aged man sighed, "I'll pay. But this is the last time. If it doesn't work out, I'll move out; I'm not living in this yard anymore."

"This is the last time," Yi Zhonghai said. "This time it will definitely succeed."

The group discussed it again and decided to start collecting money tomorrow. They needed to be quick this time; Chen Feng could come back at any moment, so they couldn't delay any longer.

After the meeting, everyone went home. The courtyard returned to its deathly silence.

Liu Guangfu returned to his room, lay on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. He thought of his brother Liu Guangtian, of Sha Zhu, and of the deaf old woman. They were all dead, all killed by Chen Feng.

Could I be next?

He was terrified, terrified to death. But he couldn't leave. His job was here, his home was here, where could he go?

Yan Jiefang couldn't sleep either. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding a knife in his hand—a kitchen knife he'd taken from the kitchen, sharpened to a fine point. He planned to sleep with the knife with him tonight, so that if Chen Feng came, he could at least put up a fight.

Yi Zhonghai lay on the bed, an older woman crying beside him. He felt irritated by the crying.

"Stop crying," he said. "What's the use of crying?"

"Old Yi, let's... let's move away," an old woman cried. "We can't stay in this yard anymore. If we stay any longer, we'll all die."

"Move? Where to?" Yi Zhonghai smiled bitterly. "We've lost our jobs, our hands are useless, how are we going to survive? Besides, if Chen Feng wants to kill us, he can find us anywhere."

The older woman cried even harder. Yi Zhonghai closed his eyes and stopped speaking.

He knew the old woman was right; he couldn't stay in this courtyard anymore. But he was unwilling to give up. He had lived in this courtyard for thirty years, rising from apprentice to a skilled worker, from an ordinary laborer to an old man. His youth, his struggles, and his glory were all here.

Now, everything is ruined. Ruined by Chen Feng.

He hated it, hated it to the point of clenching his teeth. But he was even more afraid, afraid to the point of trembling all over.

The next morning, Chen Feng wrapped up the passbook and put it in his pocket.

He needs to go to the vicinity of the courtyard house and leave the bankbook at the gate. But he can't go directly there; it's too dangerous. There are definitely people watching inside now, and it would be troublesome if he were seen.

He thought about it and decided to wait until noon. At noon, the people in the courtyard might relax their vigilance, and some families might take a nap.

He waited until 11:30 before going out. He took a detour and arrived at the alley where the courtyard house was located.

The alley was quiet, with hardly anyone around. Two community security guards stood watch at the entrance of the courtyard house, holding their guns and yawning. Inside the courtyard, it was eerily quiet; not a sound could be heard.

Chen Feng hid at a corner at the entrance of the alley and observed for a while. After confirming that no one was paying attention, he took out the cloth bag containing the bankbook from his pocket and threw it forcefully towards the entrance of the courtyard house.

The cloth bag traced an arc in the air and landed with a "thud" at the gate of the courtyard.

The two security guards were startled and immediately raised their guns: "Who?!"

No one answered. They looked around but saw no one. One of them walked over, picked up the cloth bag, opened it, and found several bankbooks inside.

"What is this?" he asked his companion.

His companion took it and looked at it: "A bankbook? Who threw it away?"

The two men looked at each other, unsure of what was going on. Not daring to act rashly, they took the bankbook into the courtyard to find Yi Zhonghai and the others.

Chen Feng watched from the corner, a cold smile curving his lips.

Alright, the bait has been cast. Now, we just wait for the fish to bite.

He turned and left, returning to the restaurant. He still had work to do in the afternoon and a trip to the local temple in the evening.

can't stop.

Blood debts must be repaid in blood.

Not a single one will be left.