After finishing their briefing, Xiao Feng and Qin Tian hoisted the Black Angel and silently slipped into the bandit camp like prowling beasts under the cover of night.
Following a few of the gang members, they arrived behind a brightly lit hall. Xiao Feng leaned against the window sill, straining to catch the sounds within.
"Boss! Boss! We've got trouble this time."
"What kind of trouble? Where's Old Three?"
"They took three shots to the head—dead on the spot."
A crashing sound followed—the unmistakable clatter of a smashed cup.
Inside, four or five figures sat around a table. The gang members who had led Xiao Feng here trembled nervously before them.
One man, wearing a single eyepatch, fixed the dim light with his remaining fierce eye. Lean and gaunt, his black hair hung over his face, casting an aura of brutal menace. Shirtless, his scarred torso bore two heavy pistols on his belt, each equipped with a long magazine holding no fewer than fifty rounds.
This was the feared leader of the gang, the Ghost Demon—"Gui Yao."
His name suited him well, the man embodying the very essence of his ominous title.
Around him sat companions—two burly, muscular men with fierce countenances, each clutching a cigarette and a bottle of liquor. Alongside them were three identical women—triplets—dressed provocatively. Their features, though not striking, were rendered irresistible by their sultry attire, the curves of their bodies demanding more than a passing glance. The allure of Asian beauty was subtler than that of their European counterparts, yet no less captivating.
Apart from these five, another figure caught Xiao Feng's attention, prompting a frown. This individual wore a mask—a mask Xiao Feng would never forget: the mark of the Wicked Dragon Sect. This man was unmistakably a count of that sect.
Xiao Feng's glare hardened. Damn it, he thought. How did these bastards from the Wicked Dragon Sect end up here? Their reach spreads too far—encompassing all of Asia.
He finally understood why the Ghost Demon gang had expanded so rapidly—it was because of the Wicked Dragon Sect's influence. Memories of the temple war flickered through his mind; he had failed to slay the Black Dragon, the true root of all evil. Until that beast was destroyed, the Wicked Dragon Sect would endure.
Bitter regret filled Xiao Feng's heart. Next time he faced the Black Dragon, he vowed, death was the only option—lest endless trouble follow.
Inside the room, Gui Yao rose, storming toward his trembling subordinates. With venomous fury, he snarled, "You say Old Three was killed? Damn it! What the hell are you doing? Ten vehicles, dozens of men—just to deal with a measly protection zone's handful of alliance soldiers, and you can't even manage that? Damn—" His foot crashed into a subordinate's stomach, sending the man sprawling, followed by a slap that knocked another to the ground. "What use are you worthless wastes?"
His rage betrayed deep affection for Old Three despite his harsh words.
The count of the Wicked Dragon Sect stood and interrupted, "Enough. Stop beating them."
Xiao Feng was taken aback—the man spoke not in English but in a low, reserved Mandarin, which piqued his curiosity.
Gui Yao, gasping, shot the count a glare. "Stop beating them? I don't even have the heart to kill them myself…"
"They sent so many and still failed to take the protection zone. There must be a reason. Let them explain."
Gui Yao kicked a gang member hard. "Get up and tell me everything properly."
Rubbing his chest, the man coughed and recounted the events in detail—particularly his vivid description of the local militia.
The count's eyes narrowed coldly. "If what you say is true, then we truly face a grave problem…"
He called over a laptop, placing it on the table. His fingers danced over the keys, and an image of a mecha warrior appeared on the screen.
Turning the monitor toward the gang member, he asked, "Is this the mech warrior you saw?"
The man approached, scrutinized the screen, and hesitated. "Yes, yes… No, not exactly…"
Gui Yao kicked him again. "Is that the one who fell?"
The man protested, "Looks similar, but that guy carried many weapons… This mech doesn't seem that powerful…"
Beneath the count's mask, his brow furrowed deeply. His gaze sharpened. "If that's the case, then we have a serious issue. The appearance of a mech warrior in such a small protection zone is already alarming. If there's an even stronger mech, that's beyond strange…"
Gui Yao's arrogant scowl softened slightly. "Count, I don't quite understand. Is it really that formidable?"
The count nodded gravely. "If it's a mech stronger than the mech warrior, it must belong to the Victoria Corporation. Even the Alliance Army lacks such machines. That means Victoria's influence has spread here. But why would their company send forces to such a backwater?"
Suddenly, the count's expression shifted. He summoned a series of portraits on the screen and grabbed the gang member. "Do you recognize anyone here?"
Trembling, the man leaned in, carefully studying the images. When his eyes landed on one, he froze. Pointing, he said in shock, "He—he's here…"
Gui Yao and the count both turned to look. The portrait was unmistakably Xiao Feng, with his long hair.
The count was stunned. "You're not mistaken?"
"No, no—it has to be him…"
Cursing under his breath, the count growled, "Damn it! How did that madman end up here?"