Disposal

Eight o'clock in the evening, a private training hall in the south of the city. Gao Ming arrived ahead of their agreed time and met Chen Chuan upstairs. Once seated, he began his analysis. "Cousin, I've gone through quite a bit of information on the Yangzhi City Mutual Aid Society over the past few days, so I have a decent grasp of how they operate. "When dealing with matters like this, they usually try to win the person over or placate them first. If that fails, they resort to harsher measures. But you've already turned them down several times, Cousin, and now you pose an active threat to them. They probably won't bother trying to recruit you again. The odds are high that they'll jump straight to force or sabotage—framing you, planting evidence, or pinning a crime on your head. "The thing is, Cousin, you usually keep to yourself. You barely interact with outsiders, and you're from a constabulary family. That alone means they can't easily pin anything on you. As for fabricating baseless complaints to haul you before the Tribunal, that consumes too much time and energy, creates far too much noise, and opens the door to too many unpredictable complications. If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't choose that path either." At that point, he pushed up his spectacles and looked straight at Chen Chuan. "That leaves only one method—and by far the most cost-effective one: physically eliminating you." Chen Chuan agreed with that assessment. Compared to exerting political leverage from above to suppress him, getting rid of a person directly was both the cheapest and simplest approach. Once a person was dead, most issues simply vanished with them. Even if someone investigated after the fact, the orchestrators behind the scenes would have plenty of ways to slip away cleanly. What mattered was that their core objective was achieved. "So you need to be extremely careful from here on out, Cousin. It's the academy vacation right now, not the school term. If anyone plans to make a move, this break is when it's most likely to happen." A bright glint flickered in Chen Chuan's eyes, yet his tone remained completely steady. "Then I'll stay right here and wait for them to come." After parting ways with Gao Ming, Chen Chuan did not return to his aunt's home. Instead, he took up residence directly in the training hall. With the medicine he had brought back, he could spend all day engaged in combat training. Even so, he was conscious that if an attack occurred inside the hall, innocent bystanders might be dragged into the fray. He decided to create an opening for whoever might come after him. Apart from his essential conditioning routines within the facility, he made a point to head out around dusk every day to a nearby wetland park by the lake, where he practiced his boxing forms and saber techniques. During the day, the park saw a fair number of visitors, but after four or five in the afternoon, practically no one lingered. That was especially true under the current climate of escalating gang violence. Even the south of the city was no longer entirely safe, and no one wanted to wander aimlessly through such isolated grounds. Anyone aiming to dispose of him would naturally choose an uninhabited area like this to do the deed. Chen Chuan himself found the spot ideal—if a fight broke out, it wouldn't create much of a disturbance. In the days that followed, he came here on a strict schedule. Although five or six days passed without any sign of trouble, he knew they would not keep him waiting long. The vacation was their best window; once it ended and he returned to the academy, dealing with him would become vastly more difficult. On this particular day, seeing that the hour was drawing near, he prepared to head out as usual. Just before leaving, his telephone suddenly rang. It was Bureau Director Lei. "Liu Zhan called to inform me that someone under him in the Foreign Affairs Bureau leaked the departmental recommendation regarding you. He claimed it was a failure of discipline on his part and offered his deepest apologies to you." Chen Chuan asked, "Did he stage it himself?" Bureau Director Lei replied, "No. I looked into it. An evaluation dossier was taken by one of his clerks, who has already transferred out. It truly was an accident. "Of course, he didn't call out of the goodness of his heart either. He originally could have leveraged the matter himself, but now that it's been exposed prematurely, it's lost all value to him. If anything, it makes him look unreliable in certain people's eyes. Since he can no longer gain from it, he figured he might as well do us a favor in advance and keep a debt of goodwill on his ledger. "Xiao Chuan, watch your back. If you run into any trouble, come to me first. Your senior sister and I will arrange a safe place for you." Chen Chuan offered his sincere thanks. "Thank you, Director Lei, but that won't be necessary just yet." "Very well," Bureau Director Lei said. "Call me anytime you need anything." Ending the call, Chen Chuan glanced toward the outside, picked up his saber, and strode out of the training hall. The security guard by the entrance asked, "Brother Chen, off to practice saber by the lakeside park again?" Chen Chuan smiled and nodded. "That's right." The guards watched him walk out. They completely understood why he preferred heading outside over staying confined in the hall. Some people simply disliked being cooped up indoors to train. Besides, the open air was refreshing, and though that part of the park was somewhat secluded, the scenery was truly splendid. Once outside, Chen Chuan crossed three streets and walked for about thirty minutes before arriving at the park. Before him stretched a wetland lake, with a wide expanse of reeds swaying softly in the evening breeze. He gazed across the rippling water, submerged in the golden remnants of the setting sun. A few white egrets occasionally flew across, appearing like drifting white specks skimming the surface. No one else was around. He stood entirely alone between earth and sky. With a light, controlled jab, he planted the Xuejun Saber upright into the ground. Gripping the hilt, he drew it slowly. A brilliant glint flashed, accompanied by a crisp metallic chime as the blade cleared the scabbard. Stretching his posture, he turned his back to the setting sun and began running through his forms, move by move. Gulps of evening wind swept across the marsh, bending the emerald-green reeds in unison before sending wave after wave rolling through the thickets. Meanwhile, within a small grove to the southeast, over a dozen men were crouched behind trees and bushes, holding dead still as they scrutinized his every move. Every one of them was burly and battle-hardened, their expressions chillingly cold. They were seasoned operatives who knew that combatants were extraordinarily sensitive to foreign gazes, so they mostly swept their eyes past him without staring directly. "The kid's saber forms are pretty crisp. He's a tough customer." "He's a Wuyi student. That's their bread and butter. Looks fancy enough, but what good is it? When the guns bark, all that upbringing goes down the drain. No matter how fast his saber is, can it outrun our bullets?" They had carried out hits like this more than once, though their past targets had all been figures of rank and status. Coming out specifically to assassinate a student was a first. "The brat picked a fine spot for himself. Saves us the trouble of digging a pit for him later." "All right, cut the chatter. It's almost dark. Put him down and clear out fast. Yangzhi hasn't been peaceful lately." Among them, the leader was a crew-cut man with ruthless, icy eyes who spoke with virtually no change of expression. He turned his head and addressed a figure leaning against a tree trunk in the distance. "Lao Ma, keep an eye out." That person wore a black hood that exposed only his eyes. The others kept a wide berth around him. Hearing the call, his eyes shifted slightly, and he gave a minimal nod. The crew-cut man felt reassured. Lao Ma was— He then turned to the other side and spoke to a lean, wiry man in his twenties. "Pi Zi, get ready." The man grunted in acknowledgment, brought up his firearm, and carefully aligned Chen Chuan's silhouette in his crosshairs, his finger easing onto the trigger. Because Chen Chuan stood backlit by the dying sun, he couldn't help squinting. Although the angle wasn't ideal, this was the best vantage point for concealment in the area. In any case, he had always shot by instinct rather than fixed aim, so there was no need to maintain a continuous stare. Yet just as his finger was about to squeeze the trigger, a dazzling blade light flashed. He blinked instinctively. When his eyes snapped open again, the figure on the mudflat had completely vanished. Startled, he shut his eyes, shook his head, and peered outward once more. At that very moment, furious roars tore through the air alongside cracking gunfire. Immediately afterward, a violent gust of wind howled past, tearing grass stems from the ground, and something hot spattered across his face. He turned his head. A companion just a few paces away had already lost his head, leaving behind only a jagged stump spurting blood. Looking further back, several men who had been lying in ambush were severed limb from limb, their blood spraying across the ground in a crimson trail. One of the men stationed farther back saw the entire sequence clearly: the moment they prepared to strike, the saber-bearing figure had halted mid-stride, then surged toward them without the slightest warning. A distance of forty to fifty meters separated them, yet in what felt like a single heartbeat, he was right in their faces. Everywhere he passed, severed limbs and mangled flesh took flight. Panic-stricken, the man raised his gun and fired repeatedly at the oncoming blur. But his eyes couldn't even track the silhouette's speed, and every bullet struck empty air. By now, Chen Chuan had carved his way all the way to the rear. He had barely executed a formal technique; simply by holding his saber horizontally beside him and relying on his blistering velocity, he had cut down everyone in his path. Noticing someone shooting, Chen Chuan flicked his gaze toward him. Though still distant a moment ago, his frame seemed to shift, and in the next instant, he appeared directly in front of the gunman. He swept outward with the flat back of his saber. The man's arm snapped inward first, followed by his waist collapsing inward while his head and feet stayed pinned where they were—folding him entirely in half—before he went flying through the air. Right then, the hooded man burst from the shadows, darting forward like a venomous viper striking from concealment. The ambush was breathtakingly abrupt, timed precisely to the instant Chen Chuan finished swinging his saber. Yet Chen Chuan merely tapped the ground with his toe, his entire body shifting sideways. He opened his arms as though waiting for the man to throw himself into them. As the assassin hurtled past his flank, Chen Chuan brought his arm down, locking firmly around the man's ribcage, and exerted a measured burst of strength. *Crack, crack, crack...* Amid a rapid cascade of shattering bone, the entire torso caved inward. The man's eyes bulged grotesquely, blood gushing continuously from beneath his mask. Chen Chuan loosened his grip, letting the limp, crushed body drop to the ground. His peripheral gaze swept toward the few remaining scattered men. The crew-cut leader saw the slaughter unfold with absolute clarity. Despair and fury ripped from his throat: "Fuck! What kind of—" Chen Chuan reversed his blade and began striding toward them. The crew-cut leader roared hysterically, "Fire! Open fire! Don't even think about running, none of us can outrun him!" The remaining men frantically drew their guns and unleashed a barrage. Chen Chuan dipped his body low. With a single forward step, he was already right before the leader. He raised his hand lightly and shoved upward against the man's chin. A sharp snap—like a stalk of sugar cane breaking clean—echoed as the head snapped all the way backward. Chen Chuan then blurred toward the opposite flank. A few sharp cracks of gunfire rang out in brief succession before dying away entirely, leaving behind only the distant flutter of startled birds taking flight into the lingering glow of the twilight sky. Chen Chuan...