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

The courtyard at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang is as silent as a giant tomb.

Looking into the alley, two large black doors were tightly shut, their brass rings gleaming dimly in the afternoon sun. Several faded slogans were pasted on the wall, their characters blurred and illegible from wind and rain.

There are hardly any living people left in the courtyard.

In two months, seventeen people died at Chen Feng's hands. The Jia family was wiped out, the Liu family was exterminated, and the Yan family was reduced to orphans and widows. Of the remaining dozen or so households, those who could move away did—those with relatives went to live with them, those with money rented rooms, and those with nowhere to go shared rooms for mutual support.

But there are still seven or eight households that can't leave. Some are so poor they can't even afford rent, while others have no one in their hometowns and nowhere to go.

These people are now crammed into the east wing of the central courtyard.

The east wing originally belonged to Liu Haizhong's family, but now that the Liu family is extinct, the house was empty, so everyone moved in. The three rooms housed seven or eight households, more than twenty people, men, women, and children crammed together. They dared not go out during the day and dared not light a lamp at night, like a group of rats hiding in their holes waiting to die.

An elderly woman sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), staring blankly at the ground. She hadn't eaten much for three days; not because she had nothing to eat, but because she couldn't stomach it. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Yi Zhonghai's bloodied face and the images of her dead neighbors.

Aunt Erda lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), wrapped in a quilt, shivering. She had a fever for two days, and no one dared to go out to buy her medicine—what if Chen Feng was waiting outside?

The three women were holding two children, Yan Jiekuang and Yan Jiedi, who were both teenagers. They were so frightened that they huddled together and dared not breathe.

The other households were in similar situations. A sense of despair permeated the houses, a mixture of sweat, mold, and fear.

"The neighborhood office...didn't the neighborhood office say they would send people to protect us?" a middle-aged woman asked in a low voice, her voice trembling.

"Protection?" Another man gave a wry smile. "Director Wang is dead. The new Director Zhao has come twice, but what good has it done? The police have sent two officers to guard the alley entrance, but if Chen Feng really wants to come in, can those two officers stop him?"

No one answered. The answer is obvious to everyone—it can't be stopped.

Chen Feng was a ruthless killer, able to kill whomever he pleased and whenever he wanted. The police had been searching for him for two months without even catching a glimpse of him.

"I heard..." a younger woman lowered her voice, "that Chen Feng's sister might still be alive, by the moat. Chen Feng is looking for her; if he finds her, she might..."

"Find him and leave?" The second aunt suddenly sat up on the kang (a heated brick bed), her eyes bloodshot. "He killed so many people, and he thinks he can just walk away? The police won't let him go!"

"Will the police be able to catch him?" the old woman muttered. "He's a madman now, he's afraid of nothing..."

The room fell silent again.

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard outside.

Everyone was startled. Some grabbed the kitchen knife, some hid behind the door, and the children burrowed into their parents' arms in fear.

The footsteps were light but clear, passing through the courtyard and stopping at the door of the east wing.

The people inside held their breath, their hearts pounding as if they were about to explode.

There was a knock on the door.

"Thump, thump, thump."

Three sounds, neither hurried nor slow.

No one dared to answer.

"It's me, Xiao Li from the neighborhood office," a young female voice came from outside the door.

The people inside breathed a sigh of relief, but no one dared to open the door.

The older woman hesitated for a moment, then walked to the door and peeked out through the crack. It was indeed Xiao Li from the neighborhood committee, a young woman in her twenties, wearing a blue work uniform and carrying a cloth bag.

"It really is Xiao Li," an older woman said, turning around, her voice trembling with tears.

The door opened. Xiao Li walked in and frowned when he saw so many people crammed together in the room.

"Director Zhao asked me to bring some food to everyone," she said, placing a cloth bag on the table containing a few cornbread buns and some pickled vegetables. "Also, Director Zhao said he's contacting people about renting rooms, so we can move out by the day after tomorrow at the latest."

"The day after tomorrow?" the second aunt asked anxiously. "Where can we move to?"

"It's in the east of the city, a bit far from here, but it's safe," Xiao Li said. "Director Zhao has arranged a few vacant rooms. Although the conditions are not great, at least we can stay there. The neighborhood office will subsidize part of the cost."

The people inside finally showed some signs of life. It would be good if they could move away; leaving this awful place might save their lives.

"Comrade Li," an older woman asked, "any news about Chen Feng?"

Xiao Li hesitated for a moment: "The police are still searching. Also, there's something I need to tell everyone—Chen Feng's sister might still be alive, by the moat. Chen Feng might be looking for her now, so he might not be around for a while..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but everyone understood what she meant—Chen Feng was busy looking for his sister and couldn't pay attention to this for the time being.

The news brought a slight sense of relief to those in the room. But only for a few seconds, the fear returned—what would happen after Chen Feng found his sister? Would he come back and continue killing?

"Don't worry too much, everyone," Xiao Li reassured them. "The police have increased patrols, and there are guards at the alley entrance 24 hours a day. Director Zhao has also applied for permission to send two militiamen over starting tomorrow to protect you."

Militia? The people inside looked at each other in bewilderment. What use were militia?

"In short, everyone hang in there for two more days," Xiao Li said. "The day after tomorrow morning, the neighborhood committee will send a car to pick you up and take you to your new residence. Until then, try not to go out and keep your doors and windows locked."

After giving these instructions, Xiao Li left. The people in the room gathered around the table, divided the few cornbread buns among themselves, giving each person half a bun to eat with pickled vegetables.

Food was scarce, but no one complained. Having anything to eat was a blessing; after two months, everyone had long since lost their critical spirit.

After we finished eating, it gradually got dark.

No one lit the lamps—lighting them would be too conspicuous, what if Chen Feng was watching from outside?

Everyone sat or lay down in the dark, waiting for dawn with their eyes open.

Fear is like an invisible net, binding everyone tightly, and the more it binds, the tighter it becomes.

---

Meanwhile, in a small courtyard in Doufu Lane in the north of the city.

Chen Feng sat in the darkness, a simple map of Beijing spread out in front of him. The kerosene lamp was not lit, and moonlight shone through the window, barely enough to make out the lines on the map.

His finger moved across the map, finally stopping at the location of Nanluoguxiang.

That place was his home, but also the starting point of all his suffering.

His parents were burned to death there, Xiaoyu disappeared there, and he himself was framed there, ruining his life.

Now, those enemies still live there—those who paid for the assassins, those who gave false testimony, those who condoned the arson. Although many are dead, some are still alive.

There were three older women, one second older woman, one third older woman, and several other families.

These people deserve to die.

But how to kill them? Security in the compound is definitely tight now; police are guarding the alley entrance, and there might be militia members too. Forcing our way in is out of the question; the risk is too great.

Chen Feng's gaze moved across the map, finally settling on an area in the east of the city—where there was a chemical plant that produced fertilizer and some other products.

For example, explosives.

Chen Feng's current identity is Wang Dagang, the older brother of Wang Scarface, and he works in the black market. Although this identity is dangerous, it has one advantage—it allows him to obtain things that are normally unavailable.

For example, explosives.

Three days ago, through Skinny Monkey's connections, he contacted a worker at a chemical plant. The worker was in debt from gambling and desperately needed money, so he was willing to risk stealing something.

Chen Feng offered a high price—one hundred yuan for twenty kilograms of ammonium nitrate fertilizer, along with detonators and fuses.

Ammonium nitrate is a fertilizer, but it is also one of the main raw materials for explosives. When combined with diesel fuel, it becomes a simple explosive.

The goods arrived this afternoon. Twenty kilograms of ammonium nitrate, packed in sacks, along with five detonators and a roll of fuse.

Chen Feng checked everything; there was nothing wrong with it. The ammonium nitrate was granular, white crystals with a pungent odor. The detonator was industrial grade, and the fuse was a standard safety fuse, burning at approximately one centimeter per second.

enough.

Chen Feng began making the explosive charge. He poured ammonium nitrate into a large iron basin, added a small amount of diesel fuel according to the specified ratio, and stirred it well. There couldn't be too much diesel fuel, as that would affect the explosive effect; nor could there be too little, as that would prevent it from detonating.

After mixing thoroughly, he divided the mixture into five cloth bags, each weighing about four kilograms. Then he inserted a detonator into each bag, connected to a fuse.

He had carefully calculated the length of the fuse. It needed enough time for him to evacuate from ignition to explosion, but not too long, lest he be discovered.

Ultimately, he set a three-minute timeframe—the fuse of a 1.8-meter-tall person.

Five explosive charges, five detonation points.

Chen Feng packed the explosives into a tattered canvas bag, covered it with ragged clothes, and it looked like an ordinary luggage bag.

Then he began to change his clothes. A black jacket with a front opening, an old felt hat, and coal ash smeared on his face. Tonight, he was going to disguise himself as a laborer traveling at night.

Everything is ready.

He glanced at his pocket watch—it was ten o'clock at night.

It was still early. He needed to wait until late at night, until everyone was asleep, until the patrolmen were most tired.

Chen Feng lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed), closed his eyes to rest, and went over the plan in his mind.

It takes about forty minutes to walk from Doufu Lane to Nanluoguxiang. You should avoid the main roads and take the side streets.

When you arrive at the courtyard house, you can't enter through the main gate—there will definitely be someone guarding it. You have to climb over the wall in the back courtyard, which is next to the alley. The wall isn't high, and there's an old locust tree you can use for leverage.

Once inside, observe the situation. If there are patrols in the yard, wait for an opportunity; if no one is there, quickly plant the explosives.

He had already decided on the locations for the five explosive charges: one under the window of the east wing—where most people were currently living; one in the main house of the central courtyard—that was Yi Zhonghai's house; although he was dead, the house was still standing, so he could blow it up to vent his anger; one in the gatehouse of the front courtyard—where the gatekeeper lived, who was also the one who had given false testimony; one in the ruins of the Jia family's house in the back courtyard—although it had burned down, there were still some remnants, so he could blow it up just in case; and the last one, in the center of the courtyard—where everyone usually gathered.

The fuses must be connected and lit simultaneously. This way, the explosions will occur almost at the same time, giving the people inside no chance to escape.

After setting everything up, he scaled the wall and evacuated. He had also planned his evacuation route: climb out from the backyard, slip into the alley opposite, go around to another alley, and then quickly leave the area.

After the explosion, the police would definitely cordon off the scene and conduct a city-wide search. Therefore, he needed to get back to the courtyard in Tofu Alley before the explosion, change his clothes, and destroy evidence.

perfect.

Chen Feng opened his eyes, his gaze icy cold.

When his parents were burned to death, no one saved them. Now, he wants to make those people taste what it's like to be consumed by fire—no, something even more terrifying than fire: an explosion.

The earth was engulfed in flames, and not a single person was spared.

He glanced at his pocket watch—it was 11:30.

It's time to go.

Chen Feng slung his canvas bag over his shoulder and checked the pistol and dagger at his waist. Then he pushed open the door and disappeared into the night.

---

At night, Beijing resembles a sleeping giant, with only a few lonely streetlights casting dim yellow halos in the darkness.

Chen Feng walked steadily and quickly. He deliberately chose the darkest spots, avoiding well-lit areas. The canvas bag on his shoulder wasn't too heavy, but the contents inside were deadly enough.

The journey went smoothly. The streets were almost deserted, and when police officers occasionally patrolled by, he would always hide in the shadows beforehand. The officers' flashlights swept across the area, but they didn't spot him.

Forty minutes later, he arrived near Nanluoguxiang.

Instead of going directly into the alley, he went around to a side alley at the back. This alley was narrower and darker, with high walls on both sides.

Chen Feng walked to a wall, which was the outer wall of the backyard of the courtyard house. The wall was not high, about two and a half meters, and broken glass was stuck in the top of the wall. But there was an old locust tree next to the wall, with its branches extending into the wall, which could be used for support.

He put down his canvas bag and looked around. Quiet, no one was there.

He moved his arms and legs; his right shoulder injury was still a little sore, but it wasn't a big problem. Then he grabbed a thick tree branch, pushed off the wall with his feet, and flipped himself up in a few moves.

A shard of glass on the wall cut his hand, but he didn't pay attention. Blood flowed down his wrist and dripped onto the wall.

He squatted on the wall, looking into the courtyard.

The courtyard was pitch black, without any lights. But from the direction of the east wing of the central courtyard, there seemed to be a faint kerosene lamp shining through the window—very dim, probably covered by a cloth.

There was no one in the courtyard. The two policemen at the alley entrance were some distance away, and they mainly guarded the front gate, so they wouldn't come to the back courtyard.

Chen Feng lightly jumped off the wall, landing silently. He quickly hid behind a tree and observed again.

Safety.

He took the first explosive charge from his canvas bag and tiptoed to the window of the east wing. The window was closed, and soft snoring and mumbling could be heard from inside—someone was sleeping, someone was talking in their sleep.

Chen Feng placed the explosive charge under the windowsill and secured it with several pieces of broken bricks. He pulled out the fuse and dragged it on the ground.

The second explosive charge was placed at the entrance of the main building in the central courtyard. Yi Zhonghai's house was locked, but that didn't matter; the explosives could be placed at the entrance.

The third one is under the window of the gatehouse in the front yard.

The fourth one is in the ruins of the Jia family's house in the backyard.

Fifth, he placed it under the old locust tree in the center of the courtyard—this was where the people in the courtyard usually chatted and held meetings, and it was also the place where they initially decided to frame him.

Five explosive charges were placed in place, and all the fuses were pulled together. Chen Feng took out a pair of scissors from his pocket, trimmed the ends of the five fuses, then put them together and tied them tightly with thin wire.

Thus, once this bundle of fuses is lit, all five will burn simultaneously, resulting in five explosions almost at the same time.

He took out matches from his canvas bag—specially made waterproof matches that he had bought on the black market.

Everything is ready.

Chen Feng squatted in front of the fuse, taking one last look around. The courtyard remained quiet, and the kerosene lamp in the east wing was still lit, but very dimly.

He struck a match.

The orange flame flickered in the darkness, illuminating his cold face. He brought the match to the fuse.

The fuse was lit, making a slight hissing sound, and sparks spread rapidly forward along the fuse.

Three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds.

Chen Feng stood up, slung his canvas bag over his shoulder, and quickly ran to the backyard wall. He grabbed a locust tree branch, swiftly climbed over the wall, and jumped down.

After landing, he didn't linger. He slipped into the alley opposite and quickly evacuated along the planned route.

The footsteps sounded exceptionally clear in the silent night, but he couldn't care less. Time was life—his own life.

He ran very fast, the wound on his right shoulder aggravated, making him wince in pain, but he didn't stop. He went through alleys, crossed lanes, and avoided main roads.

After running about 500 meters, he stopped, hid behind a wall, and looked back towards the courtyard house.

In the darkness of night, the courtyard stood silently, like a sleeping monster.

How much longer? Chen Feng glanced at his pocket watch—about two minutes had passed since it was lit.

He kept running. He couldn't stop; the force of the explosion might affect the surrounding area.

He ran another 200 meters and then stopped again.

This time, he heard it.

First came a slight hissing sound, the sound of the fuse burning out. Then, there was deathly silence.

Immediately afterwards—

boom!!!

The first explosion rang out, deafeningly loud. Flames shot into the sky, illuminating half the night.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Four explosions followed in quick succession, almost one after another. A huge fireball rose from the courtyard house, sending bricks and stones flying and billowing smoke and dust. The shockwave, like an invisible giant hand, toppled the courtyard walls, shattered the windows, and ripped off the roof.

Chen Feng saw that the east wing had completely collapsed, and flames were rising from the ruins. The main building in the middle courtyard was also blown to pieces, with wooden beams and tiles flying into the sky and then falling down like raindrops.

The gatehouse in the front yard collapsed, and the ruins of the Jia family in the back yard were blown up again. The old locust tree in the center of the yard was blown in half, and its crown fell down and crashed onto the ruins.

The entire courtyard house was engulfed in flames.

Cries and screams came from the sea of ​​fire, but were quickly drowned out by the louder explosions and roars of flames.

Someone crawled out of the rubble, engulfed in flames, screaming as they ran forward, but collapsed after only a few steps.

Some people were trapped under the bricks and stones, with only one hand sticking out, waving weakly, and then remaining still.

The firelight illuminated the night sky, and thick smoke billowed up like a giant black pillar piercing the heavens.

Chen Feng stood at a distance, watching coldly.

The firelight danced in his pupils, like two clusters of cold flames.

When your parents were burned to death, was it the same kind of fire? Were their screams the same kind of heart-wrenching agony?

Now, it's their turn.

He turned and disappeared into the night.