Unparalleled medical and martial arts skills, saving the CEO's fiancée at the start.

It was past midnight when I left Huitong Pawnshop.

Without delay, Ye Chen led four retired soldiers under Song Tiezhu straight to the Dachuan Teahouse in the South City.

Ghost Servant stayed at the pawnshop to watch over people, while Han Dong and Ding Wanshan were stuffed into the back seat of a van, their hands and feet bound, and their mouths taped shut, and were watched by two veterans from Iron Shield Logistics.

Before getting into the car, Ye Chen specifically instructed, "Don't hit anyone, don't hurt them, keep them alive, they might be useful later."

The two veterans grinned, and one of them patted his chest: "Minister Ye, don't worry, we are all civilized people."

Civilized people?

Ye Chen glanced in the rearview mirror, said nothing, and thought to himself that the way these two civilized people stuffed a rag into Han Dong's mouth just now was anything but civilized.

Da Chuan Tea House is located next to the old industrial area in the south of the city. It is a three-story old-style arcade building with two red lanterns in front of the door that are lit up until dawn. On the surface, it is a tea business, but secretly it is one of the most active contact points of the Black Waters in Jiangcheng.

Song Tiezhu's men had already investigated the area and said that every night after 11 p.m., several black vans without license plates would park in the back alley. Most of the people coming in and out had their heads down, bags tucked into their arms, and their eyes darting around. They were clearly not there for late-night tea.

Ye Chen had the car parked three blocks away and led his men there on foot.

The alley was dark, with only a few stray cats darting past the trash cans, their tails slapping against the metal lids with a clanging sound.

The night wind carried a smell of swill and diesel fuel, making one's throat tighten.

Four people followed behind Ye Chen, crouching low and moving very lightly, clearly indicating that they were all trained.

The teahouse's front door was tightly closed, while the back door was ajar, with a small patch of dim light leaking through the crack.

Ye Chen stood at the corner of the alley and observed for a while. He then made a gesture, and two veterans approached from the left and right. One pressed against the wall, and the other squatted down. Their movements were so precise that it looked like they were practicing street fighting.

Ye Chen followed and gently pushed open the back door. The door hinges must have been oiled, as they made no sound when turning.

Upon entering, there is a narrow and steep wooden staircase leading directly to the second floor.

The stair railings were worn shiny, and the wooden planks had been stepped on by countless people, with the paint in the middle completely worn away.

There was a sound on the second floor, very soft, like a teacup tapping against a wooden table, or like someone speaking in a low voice.

Ye Chen had two veterans guard the first floor and the back door, while he led the other two upstairs.

The second floor was a large open space with seven or eight square tables, where tea was still steaming.

There were six people in the room, one of whom was sitting by the window. He had a broad back and a briefcase beside him.

The other five were standing; two were leaning against the table smoking, two were looking at their phones, and one was squatting in the corner eating instant noodles.

Ye Chen didn't give them any time to react.

Ye Chen rushed in like a gust of wind. First, he slapped the phone out of the hand of the person closest to the door. Before the phone even hit the ground, he grabbed the back of another person's collar with his left hand and gently pushed him away. The person staggered and fell a distance of 10 feet, knocking over a square table and shattering teapots and teacups on the ground.

The one squatting in the corner eating instant noodles was the most unlucky. As soon as he raised his head, Ye Chen pushed him with his backhand, shoving his entire face into the bowl of instant noodles. Soup splashed all over him, and chili oil blurred his vision. He screamed in pain.

The remaining two then realized what was happening; one reached down to touch his lower back, while the other grabbed an empty bottle from the table and smashed it.

Ye Chen didn't even look. He raised his left leg and kicked the bottle away. The bottle flew past the scalp of the person who was touching his lower back, smashed against the wall, and shattered into pieces.

The man's legs went weak with fright, and before he could even pull the thing out of his lower back, Ye Chen slammed him onto the table with a close-range chokehold.

Another tried to run away, but Ye Chen grabbed him from behind by the collar, lifted him up like a chick, and gently threw him to the ground, where he fell and cried out in pain.

The person sitting by the window didn't move at all. Only when Ye Chen walked over did he slowly turn his head.

This man was forty-five or forty-six years old, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and deep-set eyes. Sure enough, there was an old scar across his right eyebrow bone, which was the behind-the-scenes accountant of Huitong Pawnshop that Ding Wanshan had mentioned.

Ding Wanshan was just the front man; the one in the Dachuan Teahouse was the one who actually connected with Heishui in the provincial capital.

The man spoke, his voice low and deep, without a trace of panic, but rather with a meaningful tone: "Ye Chen, you arrived faster than I expected. Ding Wanshan, that good-for-nothing, is too loose-lipped."

"He's ready to go to jail for you, and you're still cursing him." Ye Chen pulled over a square table, sat astride a bench, and pointed to the several subdued men by the window.

"You're talking nonsense, I haven't broken any laws."

"Tell your men to be quiet. I want to talk to you for a bit. If you cooperate, there won't be any bloodshed today. If you don't cooperate, I don't mind throwing these people out the window."

"This building isn't tall; at most, I'll break a few bones, but I won't die."

The man paused for a moment, then tapped the table lightly with his finger: "What do you want to know?"

"How many points does Blackwater still have in Jiangcheng? How many people did Qin Wuyi send over? What are you planning to do next?" Ye Chen placed the knife on the table, the hilt facing him, the blade gleaming coldly under the light.

"Hey Ye, I've fallen into your hands, so don't be too happy about it."

"If you've said it clearly, I'll turn around and leave. If not, I'll assume you've chosen to leave through the window."

The man stared at the knife for two seconds, then suddenly smiled, a smile carrying the shrewdness and helplessness of a seasoned江湖人 (jianghu person, a person from the martial arts world): "Minister Ye, it's not that I don't want to tell you, it's just that it's useless for me to tell you. When Qin Dujian does things, he never tells us subordinates the whole plan in advance. I only know that there are two backup safe houses in Jiangcheng. One is in a rental house behind the second-hand market in the west of the city, and the other is in the warehouse at the East Suburb Wharf. Tonight you arrested someone at Huitong Pawnshop and also found your way here. By tomorrow morning, those two places will be basically useless. Going there will be a waste of your time."

"Whether I'm useless or not is my business. Just tell me my position." Ye Chen's tone remained unchanged, but his eyes grew even colder.

The man sighed, lowered his voice and said two addresses, then added, "Han Dong and Ding Wanshan are both in your hands. If you want to use them against me, Supervisor Qin won't stand idly by. He hates it when people raid his hideout. You'd better make plans early. Qin Wuyi... I've been running errands for him for eight years and I've only seen him once. That time, in front of a whole room of people, he used the tip of his sword to cut off the wing of a fly that was perched on the windowsill. Quick, accurate, and ruthless. You can kill Wei Qing, but you might not be able to kill him."

Ye Chen stood up, sheathed his knife, took two steps back towards the door, and suddenly turned back to ask, "What's your name?"

"His surname is Fang, Fang Jiuzhi. This was chopped off by Qin Wuyi. He said that nine fingers are more reliable than ten fingers." The man slowly raised his right hand, which now only had four fingers left, with his little finger missing at the base.

"Oh, it's you!"

Ye Chen looked at the mutilated hand, said nothing more, and turned to go downstairs.

He stood in the darkness for a moment, then took out his phone and sent a message to Song Tiezhu: "Take over the secondhand market in the west of the city and the warehouse at the eastern suburbs wharf. Be quick, and don't make too much of a commotion. I'll be waiting for you in the south of the city."

After sending the message, he leaned against the gray wall at the entrance of the alley and looked up at the sky.

Tonight's battle only broke two of his legs. The real tough battle is yet to come.