Chapter Sixty-Three: Probing

Bang!

A tremendous explosion startled Qin Tian, Jiang Yingying, and the others out of their wits. The blast’s shockwave blasted the door, which had just been about to close, wide open again.

Qin Tian was flung out by the door panel, landing heavily atop Jiang Yingying. Shen Xiaoqing and Wade Griffin fared little better: one was thrown onto the sofa, the other slammed back-first into the coffee table.

“Can you… get up?” came Jiang Yingying’s feeble voice from beneath him.

Catching sight of Jiang Yingying’s flushed cheeks, Qin Tian sensed something was amiss—his hand, it seemed, had found its way to somewhere it most definitely shouldn’t be.

He jerked his hand away on reflex, sprang to his feet with a swoosh, and turned his embarrassed face toward the chaos outside the door.

The garden beyond was a total ruin. The meticulously tended flowerbeds were obliterated in an instant. Car fragments were scattered everywhere, some even embedded in the walls. It looked as though the whole house would need major repairs.

Many neighbors, alarmed by the commotion, rushed out. Upon seeing the devastation, some women shrieked in fright, while others whipped out their phones to call the police.

A few minutes later, Lin Jian arrived with several subordinates. When he saw the blown-up car, he too was stunned.

Not just an assassination attempt—now they were resorting to explosives?

“Are you all right?” Lin Jian asked with concern.

“No injuries,” Qin Tian replied, but he couldn’t hide his lingering fear. “But when did they plant the bomb in the car? I was just out driving it to buy groceries! If it had gone off while I was still in the car… I don’t even dare imagine the consequences!”

“For the next few days, stay home. I’ll assign people to protect you,” Lin Jian said gravely.

This case had just escalated to an extremely serious level.

“My father!” Jiang Yingying suddenly cried out.

“Captain Lin, could you please send someone to bring Jiang Tianxiang home?” Qin Tian requested.

Jiang Tianxiang should have recovered enough by now; the rest of his recuperation could be managed at home.

“Of course, no problem,” Lin Jian nodded. Jiang Tianxiang was still alone in the hospital at that moment.

If those in the shadows weren’t just targeting Qin Tian but the entire Jiang family, then Jiang Tianxiang was in danger as well!

***

In a nondescript rental apartment in the northern district of Wu City—

“So this is your so-called foolproof plan?” A figure in a black robe sat in an old bamboo chair, glaring at the skinny man standing before him, his voice sharp with reprimand.

This black-robed figure was the very same mysterious man who had appeared at Tang Yiliu’s company.

“It’s the bomb you gave me that was faulty! I pressed it forever and nothing happened! Only when I got to the door did it finally work!” the skinny man retorted.

“Fine, let’s say the bomb was my fault. But what about your throwing knives? Aren’t you the so-called successor to the Flying Dagger? Isn't it said that your blades never miss?” the black-robed man sneered.

“The target was much stronger than you said! He tore that iron box right off the wall with a single yank—do you know how much strength that takes?” the skinny man protested.

“And yet you’re ranked twenty-third on the assassin leaderboard?” the black-robed man scoffed in disdain.

This skinny man was, in fact, ranked twenty-third among all domestic assassins, famed as the Hundred Paces Flying Dagger—a single throw within a hundred steps, and a life would be forfeit.

“Hmph! Are you trying to cheat me? We agreed that even if the hit failed, you’d still pay me half!” The knife-thrower snorted coldly.

“Cheat you? Money’s just a number to me. If I weren’t worried about exposure, I’d have done it myself! Those watchdogs are far too sharp,” the black-robed man laughed.

“Twenty million. Here’s the account number. If you dare renege, don’t blame me for bringing hell to your entire family!” The knife-thrower read out an account.

“You threatening me?” A glint of cold steel flashed in the black-robed man’s eyes.

Suddenly, the knife-thrower felt a chill run down his spine—the air itself seemed to freeze.

“There’s nothing I hate more than being threatened. So—go to hell.”

The black-robed man struck. At some point, a longsword had appeared in his hand, and he thrust straight for the knife-thrower’s throat.

At that very moment, the door was shoved open and a middle-aged woman stormed in, cursing loudly.

“Playing dress-up in here? What a bunch of childish fools! Finally caught you, huh? Time to pay the rent—either cough up or get out!” Her mouth was filthy, her tone utterly unconcerned.

The tip of the black-robed man’s sword halted less than a centimeter from the knife-thrower’s throat.

The knife-thrower swallowed hard; he could feel his Adam’s apple graze the sword’s point, and a chill overtook him.

So fast—this black-robed man’s strength was terrifying!

***

The knife-thrower was dumbfounded. He thought to himself: With power like yours, you could have handled this yourself—why bother hiring me?

The black-robed man glanced at the middle-aged woman, then flicked his sword forward. A crimson line spurted from the knife-thrower’s throat.

The man clutched at his neck with both hands, but blood gushed through his fingers, unstoppable.

“Ah… ah…” he gasped and writhed in agony, his eyes rolling back.

Before long, he collapsed among the clutter, lifeless. He was dead beyond a doubt.

“Oh? Pretty realistic acting! Think you can skip out on rent by playing dead? Want me to give you another stab?” The middle-aged woman’s eyes were only for the money—she never imagined she was witnessing a real murder.

“You can die too,” the black-robed man said, turning on her. With a single stride, he was in front of her.

With a casual flick of his sword, the woman never even understood what was happening—suddenly, the world spun, and she saw her own body standing there, but her head was gone.

She had no time for further thought; darkness fell, and the world ceased to concern her.

“Cleanup crew, get in here.” The black-robed man pulled out his phone and made a call.

Soon, a group of men in black arrived. Methodically, they removed the two corpses and wiped every trace of the crime. Even the surveillance footage outside was dealt with, as if no death had ever occurred.

“Qin Tian, seems capturing you alive won’t work, and killing you won’t be easy either. Very well, I’ll play with you slowly. Don’t worry—until that old man shows himself, you’ll take his punishment in his stead,” the black-robed man murmured, eyes narrowing.

“If domestic assassins can’t get the job done, I’ll look abroad.” He pulled out a tablet, the specialized tool of their organization.

Entering the required information, a list of names appeared—each one a famed assassin of international renown.

“Firefly? A woman, is she? And from Huaxia as well, yet ranked ninth internationally. Seems she’s got real skills. I’ll have her organization test Qin Tian next,” the black-robed man mused to himself, nodding.