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

The atmosphere at the Chengnan branch was even more somber than in the morgue.

The meeting room was filled with smoke, and a dozen or so police officers were crammed together, their faces ashen. The clock on the wall had just struck 3:20 a.m., but no one was sleepy—nor could they fall asleep.

Deputy Director Li Weiguo stood before the conference table, pounding his fingers on the surface so hard that the enamel mug on it seemed to vibrate. "Explosion! A fucking explosion! The courtyard house is practically flattened! We don't know the casualties yet, but it's definitely serious! Extremely serious!"

His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were bloodshot. Two hours earlier, he had been sleeping at home, and when he was woken up by the duty phone call, he thought he had misheard—a courtyard house explosion? The whole courtyard was blown up? How could that be?

Now, he stands here, looking at the photos of the scene on the table—though they are in black and white, the hellish scene is still clear: houses collapsed, bricks and stones scattered everywhere, flames still burning, and thick smoke obscuring half the sky.

"We originally planned to ambush Chen Feng at the moat tonight," Li Weiguo continued, "but what happened? Chen Feng didn't go to the moat; instead, he blew up the courtyard house! What is this? This is provocation! Blatant provocation!"

The meeting room was deathly silent. The only sounds were the sounds of smoking and heavy breathing.

Veteran policeman Wang Zhenshan sat in a corner, a cigarette in his hand, not smoking, just watching the butt slowly burn. He had participated in the Liberation War and fought in the Huaihai Campaign, witnessing the carnage on the battlefield. But what he saw in the early hours of this morning still chilled him to the bone.

It wasn't just one courtyard that was bombed; it was a miniature hell on earth.

"Alright, everyone to the scene!" Li Weiguo finally gave the order. "Technical Section, Criminal Investigation Section, Public Security Section, everyone, go now! Turn the scene over inch by inch, look for clues, look for evidence, look for any trace that points to the murderer!"

The police officers stood up and filed out. No one spoke; only the sound of footsteps and doors opening and closing filled the air.

Wang Zhenshan stubbed out his cigarette and was the last to leave the meeting room. Seven or eight jeeps and a truck were already parked in the courtyard outside. The police officers were getting into the vehicles quickly, but their expressions were grim.

He got into a car and sat in the passenger seat. The driver was a young policeman whose hands were shaking slightly.

"Master Wang, how many people do you think will die?" the young policeman asked in a low voice.

Wang Zhenshan did not answer. He looked out the window. The night was still dark, but there was an eerie red light in the southern sky—the light from the fire scene.

The car started and drove towards the red light.

---

The courtyard at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang can no longer be called a courtyard.

Looking into the alley from the entrance, all that could be seen was ruins. One of the two black-lacquered gates had been blown off, while the other hung askew on the frame, its charred panel still smoking. A large portion of the courtyard wall had collapsed, with rubble and bricks scattered everywhere.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder, burnt smell, and... burnt meat.

The scene had been cordoned off, and police officers, militia members, and local street officials were all busy at work. Several fire trucks were parked at the entrance of the alley, and firefighters were dragging hoses to spray water onto the ruins—but the fire was too big, and the water jets only stirred up a puff of white smoke; the flames would swell up again very quickly once they were slightly subsided.

The ambulance from the hospital arrived, but the doctors and nurses stood outside the cordon, looking pale-faced at the sea of ​​fire—even if there were people inside, they couldn't be rescued now.

Wang Zhenshan got out of the car, stood outside the cordon, and looked at the scene before him.

The veteran policeman, who had fought in the war, shook his head, his voice hoarse: "This...this is like being bombed by a large-caliber artillery shell."

It certainly looked like it. The main buildings of the courtyard had almost completely collapsed; the bricks and stones were shattered, and the wooden beams were burned to charcoal. Only a deep crater remained where the east wing had been, with the surrounding walls collapsed outwards, as if they had been ripped open from the inside. The main building in the central courtyard had also collapsed, its roof completely falling and pressing down on the ruins.

The worst off was the front gatehouse—it used to be a small house, but now even the foundation has been blown up, leaving a huge crater in the ground, with smoke still rising from it.

A faint, intermittent groan could be heard from the ruins, like the last struggle of a dying person.

"Are there still people alive?" the young policeman asked, his voice trembling.

"Yes," Wang Zhenshan said, but didn't continue—being alive doesn't mean they can be rescued. With such a huge fire and such heavy ruins, even if the people inside weren't killed by the explosion, they would have been buried or burned to death.

He put on gloves, crossed the cordon, and entered the scene.

The ground was scorching hot rubble, and each step was taken with great care. The heat hit my face, making it burn. The thick smoke choked me, causing me to cough and my eyes to water.

Several police officers from the technical department were already conducting an on-site investigation. Wearing masks, they squatted in the ruins, gently brushing away the ashes with small brushes, searching for any possible traces.

"Master Wang," a technician looked up, his mask blackened by smoke, "our initial assessment indicates there were at least five explosion points, distributed across different locations throughout the facility. Judging from the size and depth of the craters, each point contained approximately three to five kilograms of explosives, using a mixture of ammonium nitrate and explosives."

"Ammonium nitrate?" Wang Zhenshan frowned. "Fertilizer?"

"Yes," the technician stood up, pointing to the crater in the east wing, "Look at this crater, it's over two meters in diameter and one and a half meters deep. Ordinary explosives can't produce this effect; only high-powered explosives like ammonium nitrate can. And..."

He paused, then lowered his voice: "We found remnants of fuses at several detonation points; they were industrial safety fuses. Judging from the burn marks, the five detonations occurred almost simultaneously."

"At the same time?" Wang Zhenshan's heart sank. "Are the fuses connected?"

"It should be," the technician nodded. "The killer was very professional and knew how to create the maximum destructive effect. Five explosion points were distributed throughout the yard, and the shockwaves combined, almost turning the entire yard upside down."

Wang Zhenshan looked around. Indeed, if the explosions had been scattered, they might have only collapsed a few houses. But with five points exploding simultaneously, the shockwaves overlapped, resulting in a geometric increase in power.

This was a massacre, not a simple explosion.

"Can you find any clues?" he asked.

The technician gave a wry smile: "It's difficult. The fire was too big, and most of the evidence was burned. We only found some fragments of the fuse and some residue from the burning ammonium nitrate—a white powder mixed in with the ashes. But these clues aren't very specific; ammonium nitrate can be obtained from many places, and so can the fuse."

Wang Zhenshan fell silent. Indeed, if the explosives were circulating on the black market, it would be very difficult to trace their origin.

"What about casualties?" he asked, changing the subject.

The technician's face darkened further: "Preliminary estimates suggest... there were at least twenty people in the compound at the time, all residents who hadn't moved out. Now... now it's possible that none of them will survive."

He pointed deep into the ruins: "The fire department said that when they arrived, the fire was already raging. They tried to go in to rescue people, but it collapsed as soon as they got in, and they were almost buried. The fire is not completely extinguished yet, and the temperature in the ruins is too high to go in for search and rescue."

Wang Zhenshan nodded. He understood; anyone who went into that kind of situation would be committing suicide.

He turned and walked back outside the cordon. Deputy Director Li Weiguo had already arrived and was standing in front of a jeep, talking to several people from the street office.

"Director Zhao," Li Weiguo's voice was loud and angry, "how is your street office doing its job? There are still more than twenty people in the compound who haven't moved out. Why haven't you forcibly evacuated them?"

Zhao Jianguo—Director Wang's husband, now the acting director of the subdistrict office—was pale and sweating profusely: "Director Li, we...we've been working hard, contacting landlords, arranging transportation, and we were supposed to move in the day after tomorrow. Who knew..."

"Who knew Chen Feng would make his move tonight?" Li Weiguo sneered. "You knew Chen Feng was looking for his sister, you knew he might do something desperate, so why didn't you increase security? There are only two policemen at the alley entrance, is that enough?"

Zhao Jianguo lowered his head, not daring to reply.

Wang Zhenshan walked over and tugged at Li Weiguo's arm: "Old Li, now is not the time to assign blame. The situation on site is complicated; we need to come up with a plan quickly."

Li Weiguo took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down: "Master Wang, what do you suggest we do?"

Wang Zhenshan gazed at the inferno, pondering for a few seconds: "First, call in more fire trucks and extinguish the fire as quickly as possible. Second, organize a suicide squad; once the temperature drops, they'll go in to search and rescue, saving as many as they can. Third, expand the search area; the perpetrator will definitely try to escape, and may leave clues along the way. Fourth…"

He paused for a moment: "Investigate the source of the ammonium nitrate. Such a large amount of ammonium nitrate is not a small quantity; it must have a source."

Li Weiguo nodded: "Okay, let's do it that way. The technical department will continue the on-site investigation, the public security department will expand the search area, and the criminal investigation department will come with me to investigate the source of the ammonium nitrate."

Once the order was given, the scene became busy again.

Wang Zhenshan didn't leave; he stood outside the cordon, watching the firefighters extinguish the fire. Water jets shot into the inferno, hissing as white smoke rose and mingled with black smoke, swirling in the night sky.

He recalled that two months earlier, on a similar night, Chen Feng's parents had been burned to death in their courtyard house. At that time, he was still working at the Chengbei branch of the Public Security Bureau and was not involved in the case, but he had heard about it—an elderly couple had been burned alive in their home, their daughter was missing, and their son was in a labor camp.

Now, the son has returned for revenge. He used an even more brutal method: he blew up the entire yard.

When will this cycle of revenge end?

Wang Zhenshan sighed. He didn't sympathize with Chen Feng; Chen Feng had killed so many people and deserved to die. But this tragedy could have been avoided.

If the neighborhood committee had handled the matter impartially, if the people in the compound hadn't given false testimony, if only...

There are no "what ifs." The blood debt has already been incurred, and it can only be repaid with more blood.

The sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was approaching, but this nightmare was far from over.

---

In the courtyard of Tofu Alley, Chen Feng sat motionless in the darkness.

He had been back for over an hour. He was on his way to evacuate when the explosions occurred. He heard the five loud bangs and saw the flames shooting into the sky. He knew the plan had succeeded.

Now, he sits here, waiting.

We'll wait for the news to spread, for the police to react, and for the next steps.

The wound on his right shoulder reopened, and blood seeped out, staining the gauze red. But he ignored it, simply sitting there, listening to the sounds outside.

Voices began to rise from the streets. The explosion had awakened half of Beijing; the news should have spread by now. He heard the sound of cars in the distance, and people shouting something.

But his little courtyard was very quiet, like it was isolated from the world.

Chen Feng stood up, walked to the window, and looked out through the hole in the window paper. There was no one in the alley yet; it was just getting light, and most people were still asleep, or had been awakened by the explosion and had retreated back into their blankets, too afraid to come out.

He returned to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and began to treat his wound. When the gauze was removed, the wound had indeed reopened, the skin and flesh turned inside out, a bloody mess. He cleaned it with alcohol, sweat beading on his forehead from the pain, but he didn't utter a sound.

After cleaning, sprinkle Yunnan Baiyao on it and wrap it with new gauze.

After doing all that, he lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed) and closed his eyes.

I started reviewing the events in my mind.

The explosion was a success, exceeding expectations in power. The entire courtyard house was probably leveled; no one inside survived.

The first aunt, the second aunt, the third aunt, and all the other enemies are now dead.

The great revenge for my parents has finally been taken.

But Chen Feng felt no joy as he had imagined; only a chill ran through him.

He killed so many people, his hands stained with blood, he became a true monster. But he still hadn't found his sister, he was still on the run, and endless darkness still lay ahead.

He recalled what his father said when he was a child, when he was teaching him to read: "Xiaofeng, you must be an upright person and not go astray."

He asked, "What if someone bullies us?"

The father patted his head: "That still needs to be reasonable."

Now, his father is dead, his mother is dead, and his sister is missing. He has no choice but to rely on himself and seek justice in the most extreme way.

There's no turning back on this path.

Chen Feng opened his eyes and looked at the dimly lit ceiling. The kerosene lamp was not lit; only the morning light shone through the window, barely enough to make out the outline of the room.

What to do next?

The courtyard house was blown up, and all the enemies were killed, but the police won't let it go. With such a large explosion and so many deaths and injuries, the police will definitely mobilize all their forces for a city-wide manhunt.

He needs to find another place; he can't stay here any longer.

But where to go?

Leaving the city? The city is definitely under martial law now, with checkpoints at every intersection.

Go to another city? No ticket, no letter of introduction, I can't go.

We can only keep hiding until things calm down, or... find Xiaoyu and then figure out a way to leave together.

Chen Feng sat up and took out Xiaoyu's portrait from his pocket. It was roughly drawn, but you could make out her general appearance. He looked at the portrait, his eyes softening.

"Xiaoyu, where are you?"

They couldn't find it by the moat, the courtyard house was destroyed, and the trail went cold again.

Is Xiaoyu really gone?

The thought, like a venomous snake, burrowed into his mind again.

No, that can't be. Old Sun said he let her go, so she must still be alive, waiting for him somewhere.

Chen Feng put away the portrait and began packing his things.

There's still over 800 yuan left, enough to last for a while. There's still medicine and food. The weapons are all there, and ammunition is plentiful.

He needs a new hiding place, one that is more secluded and safer than this one.

Wang Scarface may have other residences, or his men may know where it is safe.

Yes, go find Skinny Monkey. He's now "Wang Dagang," Scarface Wang's older brother. He has men and resources that we can use.

Chen Feng stood up and changed his clothes—still the same tattered cotton-padded jacket and old felt hat. He smeared coal ash on his face to make himself look more ordinary.

Then he slung a canvas bag over his shoulder—it contained some necessities, while he left everything else in the courtyard so that his identity wouldn't be immediately exposed if the police found his way there.

Everything is ready.

He pushed the door open, then locked it behind him. He hid the key in the gap above the door frame—just in case he needed to come back.

The alley remained quiet. He strode out and disappeared into the morning mist.

The streets were quieter than usual. News of the explosion must have spread by now; people were afraid to go out, shops were closed, and only a few pedestrians walked by quickly with their heads down.

Chen Feng walked steadily, neither too fast nor too slow, like an ordinary early riser going to work.

When he got near the flea market, he turned into that familiar alley. The grocery store wasn't open yet, so he knocked on the door, three times long and two times short.

After a while, the door opened. The skinny monkey poked his head out, saw it was him, and quickly let him in.

"Big Steel," Skinny Monkey said in a low voice, "you've arrived. The explosion..."

"Understood," Chen Feng interrupted him, "How's the situation outside?"

"It's chaos, complete chaos," said Skinny Monkey. "The police have been mobilized, setting up roadblocks and conducting searches everywhere. The black market has also shut down; nobody dares to trade. I heard... I heard that more than twenty people died at the courtyard house; the entire courtyard was blown up."

Chen Feng asked expressionlessly, "What action has the police taken?"

"We're investigating the source of the ammonium nitrate," Skinny Monkey said. "We've already checked several chemical plants and warehouses. But our batch of goods changed hands several times on the black market, so we can't trace it back to us."

"That's good," Chen Feng said. "I can't stay here any longer; I need to find somewhere else. Do you have a safe place?"

Skinny Monkey thought for a moment: "Yes. Scarface used to have a warehouse in the east of the city, where he stored miscellaneous goods. Nobody went there usually. It was a remote place, but the conditions were poor."

"Take me to see it."

Skinny Monkey nodded, called another subordinate, and the three of them went out through the back door and took a shortcut to the east of the city.

They walked very carefully, avoiding all the main streets and intersections. When they encountered police patrols, they would hide in alleys and wait for them to pass.

After walking for about forty minutes, we arrived at an industrial area in the east of the city. This used to be a textile factory, but the factory moved away, leaving behind a dilapidated factory building and warehouse.

Skinny Monkey led Chen Feng to the innermost warehouse. The warehouse was large, with a rusty iron door and windows boarded up.

"This is it," Skinny Monkey said, pulling out his keys to open the door. "It's a bit run-down inside, but habitable. There's a well in the backyard where you can draw water. You'll have to bring your own food."

The door opened, revealing a dark interior filled with broken machines, scrap metal, and old furniture, reeking of mold and rust.

Chen Feng went inside and looked around. It was indeed very dilapidated, but very well hidden. The warehouse was deep inside, with a small cubicle at the very back, which might have been an office before. There was a broken table, a few stools, and a broken sofa.

"This is it," Chen Feng said. "You guys go back now, and don't come looking for me anytime soon. I'll contact you."

"Brother Da Gang, you're all alone here..." Skinny Monkey said with some concern.

"It's alright," Chen Feng waved his hand. "I need some peace and quiet. When you get back, continue to inquire about Chen Xiaoyu, and also keep an eye on the police's movements."

"clear."

Skinny Monkey and his men left, leaving Chen Feng alone in the warehouse.

He went into the small cubicle, dusted off the tattered sofa, and sat down.

This place is more dilapidated than the courtyard in Tofu Alley, but it's safer. The police won't be able to find it anytime soon.

Now, he can focus on recovering from his injuries while continuing his search for Xiaoyu.

But there is still one problem—Zhao Jianguo.

The person who plotted against him is still alive. Director Wang's husband is the acting director of the neighborhood committee.

This person knows too much and hates him to the core; he'll be a threat sooner or later.

We need to find an opportunity to get rid of him.

Chen Feng closed his eyes and began to plan.

Outside the window, it was already broad daylight.

A new day begins.

The sky over Beijing was still shrouded in the shadow of the explosion.

The blood debt has been repaid, but the chain of hatred continues to extend.

Not a single one can be left alive.

Chen Feng did just that.

But the price was that he could never turn back.