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

Xiaoyu paused for a moment, looked at the clothes that were clearly boys' clothes, and then at Chen Feng's serious and urgent expression. Without asking any more questions, she immediately threw off the covers, picked up the clothes, and put them on.

Chen Feng then quickly began inspecting the room.

He first went to the floor tiles where the submachine guns and remaining explosives were hidden, pried open the tiles, and took out the weapons.

With the Type 56 submachine gun still having one full drum magazine left, plus the one that was empty, he quickly filled the empty drum magazine with bullets (the remaining pistol bullets and submachine gun bullets were shared).

Only two small pieces of "palm-sized explosives" remained, which he carefully stored away.

Then, he began to sort out his most important possessions.

He took out the remaining seven small yellow croakers wrapped in oil paper and more than a thousand yuan in cash from deep inside the pillow.

He wrapped three of the gold bars separately (this was the final payment to be made later), and wrapped the other four bars and most of the cash again in a waterproof cloth and stuffed them into the bottom of his tool bag.

He only had a small amount of cash, two Type 54 pistols, and spare magazines on him.

Xiaoyu has already changed her clothes.

The dark blue jacket and gray pants were still a bit too big on her petite frame, but with the baseball cap pulled low, covering most of her face and short hair, coupled with her already thin figure and deliberately lowered gaze, she did indeed look like a quiet, malnourished teenage boy at first glance.

Chen Feng walked over, straightened her collar, and pulled her hat brim down further to cover her overly clear and attention-grabbing eyes.

"Remember, from now on, you are my younger brother, and your name is Wang Xiaoyun. Speak less, keep your head down, and follow me," Chen Feng whispered, his tone more solemn than ever before.

Xiaoyu nodded vigorously, her hands unconsciously clenching the hem of her clothes.

Chen Feng carried a tool bag full of tools on his back, with a Type 54 pistol tucked into the most convenient position on his waist, and another one as a spare.

One last look at the shabby room where I had stayed for less than two days, yet it felt like an eternity, to make sure no obvious personal belongings were left behind.

"Let's go." He took Xiaoyu's hand.

Xiaoyu's hands were cold and trembling slightly, but when he grasped them, she immediately squeezed them back tightly, as if they were her only support.

Chen Feng opened the door, led Xiao Yu out of the room quickly, and gently closed the door behind him.

The corridor remained quiet, and the young man at the front desk seemed to have fallen asleep again.

They descended the creaking stairs, left the guesthouse, and re-emerged into the afternoon sunlight.

Chen Feng's goal was clear—to find a relatively safe place where he could observe berth number 9 at the dock, wait for it to get dark, and wait for 11:30 p.m.

On the way, his gaze swept over the wanted posters with blurry photos of him and Xiaoyu posted on the street corner, and over the increasing number of patrolling police officers. His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand.

Time is running out.

He had originally thought that before leaving, he should try to send a message to Skinny Monkey and the others, or at least... find out about their current situation.

After all, during those final, bloody days in Beijing, Skinny Monkey and his men did a lot for him and took enormous risks.

But at that moment, the thought only flashed through his mind before being swept away by the cold tide of reality.

They can barely protect themselves.

He doesn't even know if he and his sister can get on the ship safely, so how can he have the energy to worry about anything else?

The fact that Skinny Monkey and his gang were able to survive and make a name for themselves in the environment of Beijing must mean they had their own way of surviving.

My departure might actually sever my ties with them, which would be better for them.

The journey through life is long, take care of yourselves.

Chen Feng pulled himself out of his thoughts, gripped his sister's hand tightly, and gazed firmly at the twilight that was gradually enveloping them.

We have to go.

I must leave tonight.

Whether the road ahead is a turbulent sea or an even more unpredictable path.

He had no other choice.

Night, like spilled ink, completely engulfed Tianjin Port.

The bustling, chaotic, and vibrant scene of the port during the day has vanished, replaced by a deeper, weary roar, belonging to machinery and steel.

The massive cargo ships, like lurking black beasts, lay quietly in their berths, with only a few scattered cabin lights and deck work lights cutting out irregular patches of light in the thick darkness.

The waves relentlessly pounded against the embankment and the hulls of ships, producing a dull, rhythmic crashing sound that mingled with the faint distant whistles and the sound of the wind, creating a unique, slightly desolate symphony of the harbor at night.

Berth No. 9 is located at the relatively remote western end of the port area.

The goods piled up here seemed more messy and old, the huge containers were rusty, the wood piled in the open smelled damp and musty, and several abandoned gantry cranes, like stiff steel skeletons, silently pointed to the night sky.

At the westernmost end of the berth, almost right next to the breakwater, there was indeed a huge, long-abandoned old ship—the "Bohai".

The ship was listing, the paint had peeled off completely, revealing large patches of dark red rust, and thick layers of bird droppings and garbage were piled up on the gunwales and deck. Like the skeleton of a whale that had been stranded and dead for many years, it exuded an aura of decay and oblivion in the darkness.

There were no lights here, only the faint reflections from other berths in the distance and the sparse starlight in the sky, barely outlining the massive and menacing silhouette of the wrecked ship.

The sea breeze seemed even fiercer here, carrying a salty, fishy, ​​and rusty smell, making people's clothes flutter loudly.

The uneven cement road surface resembled a trap in the darkness.

Chen Feng held Xiao Yu's hand, taking each step with extreme care.

His eyes, long since adapted to the darkness, sharply scanned every shadow and every corner where someone might be hiding. His ears were perked up, filtering the sounds of the waves and the wind, catching any unusual noises.

Xiaoyu stayed close to his side, her little hands aching from his grip, but she didn't utter a sound.

Her baseball cap was pulled low, covering most of her face, revealing only her tightly pursed lips and sharp chin.

The oversized boys' clothes made her look even thinner and more frail, but her steps were steady, closely following her brother's rhythm.

Her right hand, always through her clothes, rested gently on her waist—where the revolver Chen Feng had left her was tucked.

The cool, metallic touch became, in this moment, the only tangible thing she could grasp to combat the boundless darkness and fear.

Chen Feng's heart did not relax as he was about to board the ship; on the contrary, it beat faster, like a muffled drum being constantly struck.

Feeling extremely uneasy.

This feeling was even stronger than when facing a hail of bullets and setting up a trap to fight back in Beijing.

At that time, the enemy was either in the open or in the shadows, but their objectives were clear. It was a life-or-death struggle, a contest of reaction, ruthlessness, and cunning.

Now, they are like walking on a single-plank bridge suspended over an abyss.

On one side of the bridge lies the unknown sea and a glimmer of hope; on this side lies relentless pursuit and the ever-present threat of annihilation.

Darkness lay beneath my feet, and silence surrounded me, with only the tireless crashing of the waves against the embankment, as if urging me on, or perhaps mocking me.

He can't be wrong.

One wrong step could lead to utter ruin.