Chapter Forty-Four: The Mercenaries' Forbidden Land

“Arrest me?” Yang Jiekai shrugged helplessly. “On what grounds? Are you a soldier or a police officer?”

“Neither,” the woman replied succinctly. “What matters is that you must come with me today.”

“If it’s to get a room together, I might consider it,” Yang Jiekai quipped with a relaxed smile. Yet his arms, hanging naturally at his sides, trembled ever so slightly. Every cell in his body was now alert, channeling his strength in preparation for the imminent danger.

The woman’s weapons were a pair of exquisite sleeve blades. Though a pistol was strapped to her long, slender thigh, she seemed far more at ease wielding the cold gleam of her melee weapons.

A mountain gust swept through once more.

One of her blades shot forward like a meteor, swift and sharp, piercing the air; the other moved like a winding stream through a mountain valley, gentle yet probing, leaving no gap unexploited.

One fast, one slow; one hard, one soft; one still, one in motion.

These twelve words encapsulated the essence and highest mastery of any dual weapon technique.

As the woman darted through the air, a fleeting trace of confidence flashed across her face. She had seen no reaction from her target. She trusted her sleeve blades, which by now were as nimble as her own hands. She was certain that unless her opponent responded with a countermeasure at the very instant she struck, there was no way to evade her attack—especially since he was unarmed.

But in the next instant, that confidence vanished without a trace, replaced by shock and disbelief. She could hardly trust her eyes: he had used nothing but his bare hands to deflect an attack she had honed to perfection!

One fast, one slow; one hard, one soft; one still, one in motion.

Yang Jiekai, too, wielded a pair of weapons: his hands. What could be more natural, more thoroughly mastered, than one’s own body?

When skill in combat reaches a certain height, so does one’s state of mind. Had the woman chosen to continue fighting out of pride, she would never have been selected for China’s most covert special unit.

After narrowly dodging Yang Jiekai’s ensuing knee strike, she leapt backward into the air and fired a bright signal flare.

“Oh, come on!” Yang Jiekai shouted, halting his attack and turning to flee. He couldn’t resist calling back, “We agreed on a fair fight—what’s with the signal flare? That’s not playing by the rules...”

With those words, his figure melted into the silent darkness, as if nothing had happened.

Yang Jiekai moved swiftly through the night forest, like a panther in the shadows. Though the woman’s skills were top-tier, he estimated he had more than a fair chance of besting her if he went all out. But if more adversaries like her appeared, even escape would become impossible.

A jet-black, heavy Jeep Wrangler roared to life, its engine’s deep notes slicing through the night as it sped toward the city.

On the mountain summit, the troops were already preparing to withdraw; their objective achieved, there was no reason to linger.

Colonel Jiang gazed at the white jiangshi now contained in a transparent vessel made of special materials. For the first time, a smile broke through his grave expression. “No matter what, the monster is in my hands at last. The credit for this will belong to us, the military!”

As for that man—whether apprehended or not—Colonel Jiang no longer cared. Since those arrogant, high-handed people had intervened, he’d let them take the blame if things went awry. If they caught the man, they could have the credit; if not, the responsibility was not his.

The military worked efficiently. In less than half an hour, the site was cleaned up so thoroughly it was as if nothing had happened. Then, one by one, the military vehicles quietly withdrew from Anhai City.

But on the mountaintop behind Anhai City, there were still people lingering.

It was a group of five young men and women, each with distinct features and expressions, all young yet exuding a self-assured, even arrogant air—the bearing of those long accustomed to command.

“Shuijing, how much effort did you just use?” The speaker was a fair-skinned, handsome young man whose face bore confidence and a hint of imperiousness. His eyebrows, sharp as swords, swept up into his hairline, marking him as the group’s leader.

“All my strength,” answered the woman who had just fought Yang Jiekai. “From the very beginning, I used everything I had.”

“If you meet that man again, one on one, what are your chances?” the young man pressed.

Shuijing’s voice was calm and clear, like a gently flowing stream, always unhurried and serene. “Twenty percent.”

“Twenty?” For the first time, a ripple crossed the young man’s confident face. He did not doubt her word; he knew that, besides her water-like, subtle movement, Shuijing possessed another trait—she never lied.

She nodded and said no more.

“Heh, my fists are getting itchy,” said a man with flaming red hair braided into small plaits down his back. Hearing Shuijing’s assessment, he cracked his knuckles with a snap. “Goldblade, leave that guy to me. It’s been ages since I’ve had a good, satisfying fight!”

“You?” scoffed another woman from the group. In stark contrast to gentle Shuijing, she wore a riot of mismatched colors and a round, waxy yellow face, the very picture of rural kitsch—if there was a standard for gaudiness, she’d surpass it.

She rolled her eyes at the red-haired man, whose chatter always outweighed his sense. “Huoyun, I don’t mean to look down on you, but if even Shuijing can’t handle him, you’ll only embarrass us all.”

Huoyun retorted, undaunted, “Tuyue Niang, how many times do I have to tell you not to use that tone with me? When have I ever embarrassed the team?”

The woman, called Tuyue Niang, flushed with anger. “Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t use my full name? Call me Yue Niang! If you dare call me by my full name again, I’ll yank every red hair off your head!”

“Enough! Silence!” Goldblade, clearly in no mood for bickering, barked at them. Only then did Huoyun and Tuyue Niang fall quiet, though their eyes continued to glare daggers at each other.

“This time, we underestimated them. That damned Jiang got the spoils!” Goldblade spat bitterly. From the start, he’d seen through Colonel Jiang’s little schemes, but kept silent because he was convinced no one could escape Shuijing’s grasp. Now, the man had slipped away, the white jiangshi had gone to the military, and his mood soured.

At this moment, the giant at the edge of the group, at least six foot three and all bulging muscle, his honest face radiating rustic simplicity, finally spoke. “The military may be celebrating too soon.”

“Muzi, what have you found?” Goldblade turned sharply, as did the others. They all knew that, while Muzi looked slow and simple, his IQ was a staggering 160.

“The one the military took isn’t the target we’re after. That white jiangshi was too weak.”

Muzi’s words struck like a bomb, stunning Goldblade and the others. As China’s most mysterious special force, answering only to the highest authority, belonging neither to the military nor the police, their existence was above the law. They never surfaced unless the situation was truly dire.

They knew exactly how formidable a white jiangshi could be—any of them could take one down alone. But for Muzi to call it “too weak” was shocking.

Muzi was smart, but as honest as his appearance suggested; he never exaggerated.

If he could dismiss such a powerful creature as “too weak,” their true quarry must be unimaginable.

“From the traces left last time,” Muzi continued in a deep voice, “we’re dealing with something at least above the level of a purple jiangshi, maybe even a green one. Only that could leave those marks.”

Goldblade’s striking eyebrows were deeply furrowed, a rare expression for him. He pondered for a moment, then sighed. “Let’s head back. If Muzi is right, our peaceful days are over. A green jiangshi? Heh, that’ll keep us busy for a while. Withdraw!”

In the blink of an eye, the five figures melted into the night.

Yang Jiekai sped through the city in his Wrangler, his thoughts in turmoil. Returning to Shizhu Manor, he slipped into his room and opened his laptop, fingers flying over the keys, searching for something.

After a long search, he found nothing and could only mock himself and give up. As if that legendary Chinese force would be so easy to find online—that would be the real miracle!

During his mercenary years, Yang Jiekai had become intimately familiar with the world’s special forces, having even crossed paths with several of the world’s most renowned units.

But he knew that those visible forces were just the tip of each nation’s true power. No country would ever reveal its trump cards to the public.

China, one of the world’s oldest and most enigmatic civilizations, naturally kept its strengths shrouded in even deeper mystery. There were countless rumors, but no one had ever claimed to have seen this force. Those who had, perhaps, were no longer around to talk about it.

Yang Jiekai’s old instructor had once mentioned the subject in passing, only to warn him gravely: there are three powers in this world you must never truly provoke, or the consequences would be unthinkable.

Two were the world’s greatest military powers; the third was China.

Ancient, mysterious, filled with hidden talents and wonders, China’s attitude toward foreign mercenaries was more uncompromising than that of any other nation: absolute zero tolerance, at any cost.

Once, several well-known mercenary groups, enticed by rich rewards, had secretly slipped into China—only to vanish completely, never to be seen again.

Since then, a saying spread among mercenaries worldwide: “Better to meet the King of Hell than go to China!” That alone spoke volumes about how forbidden a place China was to their kind.