He Zhuguo.
The number one killer in Guandong.
Eighteen years ago, this person had massacred three families and sixteen people because of a quarrel. Since then, he had been listed as an A-level wanted criminal. It was still an unsolved case.
He didn't expect that he had been hiding in Yan Jin for the past eighteen years, doing such a dirty business. He was familiar with it and made the best use of it.
Xiao Zheng had not only heard of this person's name, but he also knew that the police had lost no less than twenty frontline officers in order to arrest this person. It was an answer that caused a stir in the country back then.
Who would have thought that today, he would actually encounter this famous homicidal maniac at this moment? And listening to what he said, it seemed that he had gone through some storms in the past eighteen years and had gained some enlightenment.
"Let's go somewhere else," Xiao Zheng said and turned to walk to an alley not far away.
It was late at night. But it was still the entrance of the hospital and there were cars and pedestrians coming and going. It was inevitable that he would be affected when he fought.
If he picked a quiet and remote corner, he could clean up the mess and leave even if he fought until the sky was dark and the blood flowed like a river.
He Zhuguo, who was still listed as an A-level wanted criminal, didn't object to this thought of Xiao Zheng. Even though no one dared to investigate him with his new identity, the alley was a dead end.
The alley was a dead end. The further in he went, the dirtier the garbage bins became. Dirty water flowed out from broken sewer pipes. The mottled walls were covered with green moss. Even in a city like Yan Jin where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, there were still dark corners under the bright light.
Clang.
Xiao Zheng stopped in his tracks. The moment he turned around, He Zhu Guo, who was following behind him, pulled out a sharp awl with a blood groove. Even if it wasn't a fatal part of the body, a large amount of blood would spurt out in an instant and the person would die from excessive blood loss.
It was handy, easy to use, and it wasn't a controlled product. It could be carried around.
Xiao Zheng stared coldly at He Zhuguo, who couldn't wait to pull out the weapon. He knew that He Zhuguo wasn't impatient, but he was just numb from killing people. If he simply treated it as a routine for an old couple, there would be no novelty, no excitement, and it would not be able to stimulate the beastly nature inside him.
Facing He Zhuguo, who was filled with killing intent, Xiao Zheng was indifferent. He stood there like a statue, not moving an inch.
He wasn't angry, but he was furious. There was too much anger in his heart. It caused the berserk nature in his body to stir.
He had been schemed against and framed countless times. He didn't give a reasonable or even a straightforward counterattack.
When he was schemed against by Yen Teng-kuei, he had Ye Yuhua to mediate.
Now, he had been framed by Yan Shang and set up a Feast at Hongmen. Although he had vented the depression in his heart, his hands and feet were still tied, and he didn't dare to go too far. Even though in the eyes of others, his reaction was already too extreme. In Ye Canghua's opinion, he shouldn't have done that. He should have used gentler methods to deal with this matter.
Perhaps, whether it was in the eyes of Ye Canghua, or in the eyes of those high and mighty people, he was really a piece of trash? A good-for-nothing who wouldn't bite even if he was cornered?
He endured it.
He endured it again and again.
Even when his brother was almost assassinated, he only retaliated slightly and didn't kill him. After that, he was forced to join the Long Formation, like a grandson, and let a woman stand up for him, suffering humiliation and grievance.
Was he a pile of mud in the eyes of everyone in Yan Jin? They would let him go if they were in a good mood, but if they were in a bad mood, they would kill him?
Xiao Zheng had enough.
Even if Lin Huayin let him go. His heart ached for him, and he endured it again and again. He didn't act presumptuously.
But this time, he was really angry. He was on fire.
He went berserk!
Whoosh!
August in Yan Jin was still cold. The chilly wind in the alley was like an ice knife, cutting through flesh and bones. It was cruel and merciless.
Xiao Zheng stared coldly at He Zhuguo, staring at the countless blood stains on his spikes. He didn't move at all.
He Zhuguo moved.
Just like how he had attacked ten times, fifty times, or a hundred times. Out of habit, he took a step with his left foot, then puffed out his chest and leaped toward Xiao Zheng. When he was only two steps away from the target, he stabbed the spikes in his right hand like lightning.
In the previous hundred times, he had hit the target with one strike 99 times. He stabbed the target to death on the spot. The only time he did it, he would spend some effort nailing the target to the wall. His death was as ugly as it could be, as tragic as it could be.
This time, he didn't have any psychological baggage.
In his opinion, Xiao Zheng, who had been a soldier for two years and had some skills, might be able to avoid his first attack, or even the second. But the third and fourth time — Xiao Zheng would definitely die.
This was a battle with only one answer. If he won, Xiao Zheng would die.
Swoosh!
He Zhuguo's body was like a flash of lightning, wrapped in a strong wind, like a ghost rushing over.
The spikes were slightly raised, flashing with a cold light. With a whistling sound, it stabbed toward Xiao Zheng's throat!
Seeing the spikes approaching, Xiao Zheng, who was standing in place, finally moved.
His movement wasn't too fast, but it was heavy and stable enough, and the explosive power was earth-shattering.
Puchi!
The blade appeared.
Hum!
Crossing his arm, the blade came out. Xiao Zheng didn't even use his eyes to look. Just out of habit, he split He Zhuguo's spikes with his blade. In the dark night sky, the collision created fierce sparks. When it sprayed on people's skin, it was even a little hot.
After the strike, Xiao Zheng still didn't take a step back. His arm sank, tightened, and suddenly raised the blade, slashing toward He Zhuguo from the front.
Without any fancy skills, he just slashed toward He Zhuguo as if he was cutting melons and vegetables. Just one strike. One strike that contained all the strength in his body. It sent He Zhuguo, who was originally surging with murderous intent, flying. His heels rubbed against the ground three or four times before he could stand firm. The spikes in his hand, made of pure steel, were also buzzing. The vibration made his wrist hurt, and the web between his thumb and forefinger actually tore open a trace of blood.
In a short fight, He Zhuguo realized a problem that he had never seen before.
He was not Xiao Zheng's opponent!
Yes.
He Zhuguo, who had left the level of an assassin and stepped into a higher realm, was not Xiao Zheng's opponent at all!
In the past eighteen years, his master had asked him to step into a higher realm. He wanted him to become a powerhouse not just limited to an assassin. He wanted him to become the sharpest trump card under his command. He had been doing this all the time. In order to practice his ultimate skill, he didn't go out for as long as a year and closed himself in the house to practice. Every day, he would stab five hundred times, a thousand times. It was all so that every muscle in his body could perfectly fuse with the force exerted by the awl.
He had been doing very well. He was also entrusted with important tasks. He was even treated with courtesy by his master.
He had thought that he was already a powerhouse standing at the peak, no longer the bloody murderer who only knew how to kill.
But he was wrong.
Very wrong!
How could a real powerhouse be forced back by the opponent's strike? Instantly destroy the fighting spirit?
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