At the beginning, he took his seven younger siblings to join Yi Zhonghai.

Everyone in the warehouse turned around at the same time and saw Yi Zhongding dressed in black and holding a razor blade, and there was an uproar.

The thugs instinctively raised the sticks in their hands.

The leader also suddenly stood up, his fat face jiggling.

"Who are you? Do you know whose territory this is? Which brat is so blind as to come here looking for death?"

The leader, trying to remain calm, shouted sternly.

He saw that Yi Zhongding had already gone deep into the warehouse, so he knew perfectly well that something must have happened to the people outside.

The person who could get him to accept so many items and still sneak into the warehouse must be quite capable.

So no unnecessary questions were asked.

Yi Zhongding did not answer. Instead, he flicked his wrist and sent a blade flying. The thug on the far left fell to the ground with a bloody gash between his eyebrows.

The factory was quiet for a moment, then erupted into chaos.

"Damn it! People here for a haircut, brothers, draw your guns!"

The leader immediately understood: this wasn't a trip to the kiln, nor was it to bleed people dry or smash the kiln; it was clearly a trip to "shave heads."

"Shaving heads" is a slang term in the martial arts world for someone like Yi Zhongding who kills without negotiation, warning, asking about background, giving no way out, or leaving any room for maneuver.

It's a metaphor for something as clean and tidy as if a razor had been used to shave the scalp, leaving it completely bare.

The remaining seven thugs didn't waste any words and reached for their waists.

But to Yi Zhongding, their movements were practically in slow motion.

Yi Zhongding flicked his wrist again, and five more blades flew out.

Puff, puff, puff, puff, puff...

After five muffled thuds, four thugs fell to the ground one after another, all hit between the eyebrows.

The remaining two thugs were terrified when they saw this and turned to run away.

Yi Zhongding initially thought they were minor leaders based on their positions, and that they might know something, so he wanted to keep them around.

But instead of surrendering, they tried to assassinate him. Well then, they should die.

Anyone who's ever been in a fight knows that.

An opponent turning around doesn't necessarily mean they're running for their life; it could be a counterattack.

So he flicked his wrist, and two more blades flew out, piercing through the back of their heads.

"Thump." *2

From the moment she appeared until the moment she left, it took no more than a minute.

All eight thugs were killed.

The factory was filled with a strong smell of blood.

The leader was so frightened that he slumped into his chair, his face ashen, his lips trembling as he couldn't utter a word.

He'd been in this line of work for so many years and had seen ruthless people, but he'd never seen anyone this ruthless.

One man, with a throwing knife, killed eight of his elite men in less than a minute, all without any expression, as if he were killing chickens.

Yi Zhongding walked up to him and looked down at him.

Then he pulled out a gun and pressed it against his forehead.

"Tell me, where did the grain come from? Who's the boss behind it? Where are the other warehouses?"

Yi Zhongding's voice was as calm as if he were asking for directions.

However, the murderous intent in his eyes made his head and mind dizzy.

"I'll tell you... I'll tell you and you won't kill me. You're blindfolded, I can't recognize you, please spare my life."

The leader's teeth chattered, and it took him a long time to finally manage to utter a single sentence.

He knew that threatening someone with their connections would be useless, so he wisely chose to save his own life first.

"That depends on whether you're telling the truth."

Yi Zhongding said softly.

The leader swallowed hard and spilled the beans.

It turns out that this batch of grain was smuggled into Beijing from Northeast China via railway, and the mastermind behind it was a big businessman in the west of the city named Zhao Decai.

I heard it involves several rich young men, with the nephew of a certain ministry leader at the top.

There was more than one warehouse; there were three branch warehouses in the east, north, and west of the city, each storing tens of thousands of kilograms of grain.

Yi Zhongding nodded after listening.

Then the butt of the gun slammed into the back of the leader's head, and the leader's eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

Yi Zhongding took out a rope from his spatial storage and tied the leader up tightly. He then tore off a piece of cloth and stuffed it into the leader's mouth before pressing his pressure points to ensure he wouldn't wake up until dawn.

Then they dragged it to a corner and hid it.

After doing all that, he checked the sacks in the factory.

It's all top-quality wheat flour and rice, roughly estimated to weigh at least five or six thousand catties.

In addition, there is a lot of corn, wheat flour and other coarse grains, so there are 20,000 to 30,000 jin of grain here alone.

Yi Zhongding sneered. Instead of storing the grain in his spatial storage, he took out another 50,000 jin of refined and coarse grains and placed them here as well.

Then Yi Zhongding turned and walked out of the factory, disappearing into the night.

For the next three hours.

Yi Zhongding swept through the three black market warehouses in the east, north, and west of the city in the same way.

The black market warehouse in the east of the city was located in an abandoned warehouse outside Dongzhimen, and it had the largest number of guards, as many as fifteen thugs.

Moreover, their equipment was top-notch, including even the Type 38 rifle and the Type 38 amphibious assault rifle.

But all of these appeared flashy and gimmicky under Yi Zhongding's divine sense.

Yi Zhongding also finished the battle in less than a minute, with fourteen dead and one unconscious. The leader was also knocked unconscious and tied up.

The black market in the north of the city was the smallest, with only four thugs and a leader, and it was dealt with the fastest, in less than two minutes.

The black market in the west of the city is Zhao Decai's stronghold, and it is the most heavily guarded.

They not only had thirty or forty thugs, but also countless guns and ammunition, and even two radios.

But these weapons were meaningless in front of Yi Zhongding.

He killed the thugs just like that, and then kicked open the door to Zhao Decai's office.

They dragged the boss, who was drinking with a woman, off his chair, knocked him unconscious with a punch, and tied him up along with the leader.

When he emerged from the black market in the west of the city, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

He stood on the deserted street. Although he was not stained with blood, one could still feel the intense malevolent aura surrounding him.

Four black markets, with a total of more than 80 thugs, were all killed except for the leaders.

A quantity of cash and gold and silver jewelry were seized, all of which were taken into custody.

He didn't touch the grain; in fact, he added nearly 200,000 jin (100 tons) more.

This scapegoat was slammed right onto their heads.

Yi Zhongding took off his gloves, took out a clean coat from his spatial storage and put it on, then put the blood-stained gloves and night clothes into his spatial storage.

Yi Zhongding walked to the Dongcheng District Public Security Bureau, took out the prepared note, and used his internal energy to knock it into the guard room.

Then he quietly left.

When he reappeared, he had already scaled the wall of the courtyard house and silently landed back in his own yard.

The courtyard was still quiet, just as it had been when he left.

Yi Zhongding pushed open the door and entered the room. Bai Yushu was still fast asleep, breathing steadily, with a faint smile on her lips.

Yi Zhongding took off his coat, sat down on the edge of the bed, and gently brushed the stray hairs from her forehead.

Then he lay down, stared at the ceiling, and closed his eyes.

It's almost dawn.

Some people's heads are about to fall off.

No one can stop this incident now; the sound of gunfire during target practice will likely be more frequent than the sound of firecrackers during the Lunar New Year.

As for who this incident will affect, that's not his concern.

A black market force capable of hoarding nearly 100,000 jin of grain during a famine should not exist, regardless of the reason, and it should certainly not exist under the very nose of the capital.