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

In a dilapidated shack deep within the shantytown in the north of the city, Chen Xiaoyu paused as she unlatched the door.

Outside, the night was deep and dark. There were no streetlights in the shantytown; only the dim yellow light from a few scattered windows of kerosene lamps barely outlined the dilapidated shacks. A few barks of dogs came from afar, followed by a man's curses, and then everything fell silent again.

Xiaoyu's hand remained on the latch; she did not push it open immediately.

She had been hiding in this shack for almost two months. The shack belonged to an old woman who collected scraps; she died three months ago, and her body was taken away by the neighborhood committee for cremation, leaving the shack empty. After Xiaoyu discovered it, she secretly moved in.

During this time, she heard a lot of news about courtyard houses.

The news spread like wildfire through the city—some said Chen Feng had escaped from prison and returned; some said the entire Jia family of three had died; some said the powerful figures in charge, such as Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui, had also died; some said four people had died overnight, and coffins filled the courtyard.

Every time Xiaoyu hears these news, a complex emotion wells up in her heart.

Happy? Yes. Those beasts who killed their parents and framed their brother deserved to die. She wished she could stab them a few times with her own hands, just like she had rehearsed countless times in her dreams.

But more than anything, there was fear and confusion.

My brother is back. He killed so many people. Now the whole city is searching for him.

Where is my brother? Is he alright? Is he hurt? Has he eaten enough? Does he have a place to sleep?

These problems gnawed at Xiaoyu's heart like worms. Countless times she wanted to rush out to find her brother, but reason told her she couldn't. If she went out now, she would only become a burden to her brother, or worse—be caught by the police and used to threaten him.

So all she could do was wait and hide.

Xiaoyu took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The night wind blew in, carrying the musty smell and sour stench of rotting garbage that was typical of the shantytown. She wrapped her oversized, tattered coat tighter around herself—it was a man's size, which she had taken from a courtyard, and it hung loosely on her small frame, actually making it easier to hide her figure.

Two months ago, she made a decision: to cut her hair short.

She used a pair of rusty scissors she'd found in the old woman's shack, and, looking in a broken mirror, she cut her hair, one snip at a time. Her long hair fell to the ground, revealing her uneven, short hairs. Then she grabbed a handful of ashes from the stove, mixed them with water, and smeared them on her face, neck, and hands. She didn't bathe, letting herself reek of a foul stench. Finally, she put on a tattered hat, the brim pulled low.

Now, standing in the dim night, she looks like a thin, dirty boy.

No one would associate her with Chen Xiaoyu, who had a mole on her neck and wore a red string necklace.

Xiaoyu pulled a dark, hard cornbread from her pocket. This was her dinner for the day—made with the last bit of cornmeal, mixed with wild vegetables, and it was dry and hard. She took small bites, chewing each one for a long time before swallowing.

Food had to be eaten sparingly. She didn't know how much longer she would have to endure this.

"Will my brother come looking for me?" she murmured to herself, gazing in the direction of the courtyard house.

She waited by the moat. One day, two days, three days. Her brother didn't come.

She had waited at the entrance to the shantytown before, hiding in the shadows and watching people come and go. Her brother didn't come.

Perhaps her brother had no idea she was still alive. Perhaps he thought she was dead, killed by Jia Dongxu.

The thought of this possibility made Xiaoyu's heart clench as if it were being squeezed by a hand, causing her so much pain that she could hardly breathe.

"Brother, where are you?" Her voice trembled with tears, but none fell. In the past two months, she had learned not to cry. Tears were useless; they only revealed her weakness.

She finished her cornbread, licking up even the last crumbs. Then she closed the door, bolted it, and went back to the innermost corner of the shed.

There was a pile of dry straw spread out there, covered with a tattered blanket. That was her bed.

Xiaoyu lay down and curled up into a ball. The shed was cold, the chill of the night seeping in from all directions. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow, she'll go to the moat again. Maybe her brother will go there.

Maybe.

---

Meanwhile, in the basement of the small villa in the west of the city, Chen Feng was gritting his teeth and treating his wounds.

The dim, flickering light of the kerosene lamp cast swaying shadows on the wall. Chen Feng was shirtless, the gruesome wound on his right shoulder exposed in the light—the skin was red and swollen, the edges were festering, and a gaping hole revealed the dark red muscle inside.

He placed the knife wound medicine he bought from the black market on the broken wooden box next to him, along with a small bottle of liquor, a bundle of cotton gauze, and a dagger that had been heated over a kerosene lamp.

Chen Feng first took a swig of baijiu (Chinese liquor). The strong liquor burned his throat, and a surge of heat rose from his stomach, slightly dispelling the chill. Then he poured some baijiu onto cotton gauze and began to clean his wound.

"hiss--"

The moment the alcohol touched the wound, the excruciating pain sent a shiver through him, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. But he gritted his teeth and painstakingly cleaned away the pus and blood around the wound. The rotten flesh needed to be removed—he carefully scraped away the dead tissue with a dagger, each scrape causing his vision to blur with pain.

The whole process lasted more than twenty minutes. When it was over, Chen Feng was soaked to the bone, as if he had been pulled out of the water. He leaned back in his chair, panting heavily, waiting for the excruciating pain to slowly subside.

Then he sprinkled on the wound medicine. The powder was brown and had a pungent herbal smell. The moment it was applied, the wound felt cool, and the pain lessened somewhat.

He bandaged the wound with clean cotton gauze, his movements practiced and skillful—in the past two months, he had become an expert at treating wounds.

The wound on his back was simpler; it was just an infected cut, and the bone wasn't damaged. He applied medicine and bandaged it up.

After finishing all this, Chen Feng put on his clothes and took another swig of baijiu. The strong liquor made him dizzy, but it also blurred the pain. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

I started to think about it.

There are still about a hundred people in the courtyard.

The number smirked coldly at the thought. A hundred or so people—it sounded like a lot.

In his mind, the people in that courtyard were divided into two categories: enemies and accomplices.

His enemies directly caused the deaths of his parents, framed him for imprisonment, and caused Xiaoyu to disappear. Most of these people—Qin Huairu, Jia Dongxu, Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, Yan Bugui, Xu Damao, Director Wang…—are already dead.

What about the accomplices? Those who paid for the arson, those who gave false testimony, those who condoned the arson, those who remained silent when the property was seized… they all deserve to die.

If the entire hospital hadn't committed evil deeds together, would the Jia family have been so arrogant? Would Yi Zhonghai have been able to control everything? Would Director Wang have dared to so blatantly accept bribes?

No.

Therefore, none of them can be left alive.

Chen Feng opened his eyes, the kerosene lamp light flickering in his pupils like two cold flames.

He recalled the scene from the previous night when he killed Liu Guangfu and Yan Jiefang. The two boys were fast asleep; when he slit Yan Jiefang's throat, the man only twitched a few times before dying. Liu Guangfu was stabbed three times in his sleep, without even opening his eyes.

so easy.

It's like killing a chicken.

Chen Feng looked down at his hands. These hands, which two months ago were used to handle fitter's tools in the steel rolling mill, were now stained with blood. The blood of seventeen people.

Sometimes he wondered if he had become a monster. A monster that only knew how to kill.

But every time this thought popped into his head, he would think of his parents' charred bodies, the torture Xiaoyu might have suffered before she disappeared, and the inhumane days in the labor camp.

Then, my heart hardened.

Monsters it is. As long as I can kill all those beasts, I don't care what I become.

Chen Feng pulled out the three hundred yuan from his pocket. He'd gotten it on the black market at a 30% discount; it was a deposit. He'd collect the rest in three days.

Three hundred yuan was not a small amount in those days. A level-two fitter's monthly salary was only thirty-odd yuan, so three hundred yuan was equivalent to more than half a year's income.

That's enough. Buy medicine, food, bullets, and even... a train ticket to another city.

If we find Xiaoyu.

Chen Feng's heart tightened suddenly. Where is Xiaoyu?

Old Sun said he'd let her go, that she was by the moat. But he went several times and never saw her again. He searched the shantytown too, but found no clues. He also searched the orphanage.

Could it be... that Xiaoyu is really gone?

The thought burrowed into his mind like a venomous snake, gnawing away at the last glimmer of hope.

No, that can't be. Xiaoyu must still be alive. She's so smart, she'll definitely hide and wait for him.

Chen Feng took a deep breath, suppressing his chaotic thoughts. He couldn't panic now. He needed to stay calm and have a plan.

First, he needs to recover. If the wound isn't treated properly, it could cost him his life.

Second, replenish supplies: food, water, medicine, and ammunition.

Third, continue searching for Xiaoyu. Search the moat, shantytowns, train stations, docks... search everywhere possible.

Fourth, kill the rest of them.

The order cannot be changed.

Chen Feng stood up and slowly walked around the basement. His right shoulder still hurt, but it was much better than before. The injury on his back was also improving. After two more days of rest, he would be able to move around again.

Then, go collect the remaining money first. And then...

His gaze fell on a tattered burlap sack in the corner. Inside the sack were things he had bought on the black market—besides medicine for knife wounds, two boxes of bullets, a newly sharpened dagger, several packets of biscuits, and a jug of water.

There's also a small can of kerosene.

Chen Feng walked over and picked up the can of kerosene. The tin can was heavy and filled with a pungent liquid.

He recalled the scene of burning Jia Zhangshi to death last night. The firelight illuminated the night sky, thick smoke billowed, and the old woman screamed in agony inside the house—though it stopped quickly, he still remembered the fleeting pleasure he felt.

Burning it is a good way. Clean, thorough, and... satisfying.

Those beasts burned his parents to death, and now he's burning them too.

fair.

Chen Feng put the kerosene can back into the sack and checked the pistol again. It was a Type 54 pistol, with five bullets left in the magazine, plus the two new boxes he had bought, for a total of forty-five rounds.

That's enough. Killing a hundred or so people won't take that many bullets.

He doesn't need to kill them all himself. Set a fire, lock the door, and let them scream in the flames, just like his parents did.

Thinking of this, a twisted smile appeared on Chen Feng's face.

But the smile quickly vanished.

Because he thought of Xiaoyu again.

If Xiaoyu were still alive, if she knew he had killed so many people and become a serial killer, what would she think? Would she be afraid? Would she feel disgust?

Chen Feng didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't stop. The blood debt had already been incurred, the enmity had already been sown, and stopping now would only lead to death.

Either kill them all, or be killed by them.

There is no third way.

The night grew deeper. Occasionally, a car would pass by outside the villa, its headlights flashing by through the gaps in the basement ventilation.

Chen Feng lay back on the tattered sofa and covered himself with his old coat. He closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.

Tomorrow will be another new day.

He needs to recover from his injury, prepare, and make plans.

Then, they continued killing.

Not a single one can be left alive.

Meanwhile, in that dilapidated shack in the shantytown, Chen Xiaoyu frowned in her sleep.

She dreamt of her brother. He was covered in blood, standing in a sea of ​​fire, reaching out his hand to her.

"Xiaoyu, come here."

She ran towards it, but she couldn't reach it. The fire grew larger and larger, engulfing her brother.

"elder brother!"

She sat up with a start. The shed was pitch black, with only the distant barking of dogs.

Xiaoyu, panting, touched the red string necklace around her neck. It was a gift from her brother, and she had always worn it, never selling it even during the most difficult times.

"Brother, you must live," she whispered, her voice sounding especially fragile in the darkness.

"Once I find you, we'll leave this place and go to a place very, very far away."

"Never coming back."

Night fell, enveloping the perilous city.

One is searching, the other is killing.

Two bloodlines that should have intersected passed each other by fate, drifting further and further apart.

The flames of revenge have been ignited and are about to engulf everything.