Chapter Sixty-Two: Storm Approaching

In the end, Liu Jingye never got the chance to “work hard.” However, he did end up talking with Yuan Xiaoying on the phone until midnight, flirting and bantering freely. What’s more, their romantic relationship was firmly established—somewhat sudden, yet entirely natural.

Liu Jingye, of course, had no intention of interfering with her career prospects. In fact, ever since her father arranged for her to meet Huang Xing, it had been clear that this was a golden opportunity for her to distinguish herself; her family had paved the way long before.

“I never imagined Yuan Xiaoying’s family background would be so deep,” Liu Jingye muttered to himself as he lay in bed. “Her great-grandfather was a founding elder who fought alongside the Great Leader, her grandfather was a hero of the new era under the Second Leader, and her father’s generation all hold important posts in various major departments. How did a family like that raise someone as guileless as Yuan Xiaoying?”

The next day, as expected, the incident caused a nationwide sensation. The Imperial Television Station immediately dispatched reporters for exclusive interviews.

After an intensive interrogation, Huang Xing confessed everything. Under his leadership, the Emperor’s Dynasty had always engaged in illegal activities: smuggling, drug trafficking, arms dealing, corrupting officials to act as their shields—all heinous crimes, enough for him to be executed a thousand times over.

As for the previous day, he had originally planned to escape. The man who assisted him—posing as a school bus driver—was a hired assassin. Huang Xing had no idea what specific organization the killer belonged to; he’d simply contacted him through a special phone number, and as long as the money was good, they would take the job.

Their plan was flawless: the assassin would impersonate the bus driver, quietly pick up Huang Xing without alarming the children, and drive out of the city. Once beyond the municipal boundaries, an accomplice would be waiting on the road.

But they never anticipated that a child would quietly slip off the bus, communicate secretly with the other children, and then be discovered by Liu Jingye.

“That bastard Huang Xing, he’s even more composed than I am,” Yuan Xiaoying called to complain, furious. “He doesn’t seem to be affected at all. In prison, he still acts like a boss, and he has plenty of his men inside with him.”

“He’s doomed anyway; let him strut while he can,” Liu Jingye replied indifferently.

“But there’s bad news,” Yuan Xiaoying said. “According to Huang Xing’s confession, we’ve already found his accomplices waiting in another city. But they were absolute thugs—several of our colleagues were killed or wounded before we managed to eliminate them all. From the items they left behind, we learned they belonged to an organization called ‘Black Sun,’ a notorious assassin group operating throughout Asia. They’re an extreme terrorist outfit and are notorious for always seeking revenge. Today, they’ve already declared war on us via an overseas site, swearing to avenge their slain comrades.”

“Black Sun?” Liu Jingye frowned. The name rang a bell, but he laughed it off. “Is there a White Sun?”

“Dream on!” Yuan Xiaoying retorted. “Only an idiot would think of a White Sun.”

“I’d work for them too, if they paid well,” Liu Jingye replied cheerfully.

“Less nonsense,” Yuan Xiaoying chided. “I called to warn you to be careful. The ‘Black Sun’ organization knows your name; you’re likely to become a target for their revenge.”

Liu Jingye wasn’t surprised. Given how much Huang Xing hated him, it was only natural that he’d hire assassins to deal with him.

Nevertheless, Liu Jingye was unconcerned. At worst, he’d kill them as they came—a public service, really.

“Don’t be complacent,” Yuan Xiaoying warned, sensing his indifference. “That’s not the only bad news. Apart from this assassin organization, we’ve received reports that a group of Vietnamese have also snuck into our city, likely from the Golden Triangle. Huang Xing admitted he owes them for a shipment. They’re here to collect, and who knows what those insane drug traffickers might do if they don’t get their money.

“Oh, and another thing—Huang Xing’s father, Huang Guangzong, is returning from Japan soon. Outwardly, he’s long since washed his hands of crime and has lived overseas for years. But sources say he’s actually still connected with the Yakuza—the Sanpuku-gumi and the Inada-kai. He still has shady dealings, and this time he’s coming back for Huang Xing, to reclaim leadership of the Emperor’s Dynasty.”

“Heh… just one Huang Xing has managed to draw out so many monsters and demons,” Liu Jingye sneered. “A few Japanese thugs and jungle savages—what’s there to be afraid of? Let them come. I just hope they don’t cross me, or I’ll kill them without mercy.”

“Don’t be overconfident. Their forces are formidable,” Yuan Xiaoying cautioned.

“Don’t worry. They’re big shots—why would they bother with me? If anyone, you’re their real target: Huang Xing’s former fiancée, the hero who personally captured him, honored and awarded, making public reports. Who else would they go after?”

“You’re right!” Yuan Xiaoying suddenly realized, her voice growing anxious, though she tried to sound tough. “Let them come. I’m not afraid! I have the mighty People’s Police behind me, and the support of a billion citizens. What have I to fear?”

“That’s good…” Liu Jingye said.

“And if it comes to the worst, I still have you, don’t I?” Yuan Xiaoying didn’t finish before Liu Jingye replied.

“Exactly, you can count on me,” he said. “Anything related to you, I’ll do my best!”

“Scoundrel!” Yuan Xiaoying snapped playfully. “You rascal, my shoulder still hurts because of you. The doctor says it’ll scar. What if I end up ugly?”

Liu Jingye spread his hands helplessly. “If you’re ugly, what’s a scar matter?”

“You—!” Yuan Xiaoying exploded. “Just wait, I’ll get you for this.”

Knowing Liu Jingye would never say anything nice, she hung up before he could speak again.

All of Yuan Xiaoying’s honors, commendations, reports of heroism, and advanced training in the capital were canceled. No one expected that the incident would trigger such a chain reaction, or that her life might be at risk. For now, staying at the bureau was safest.

Lying on his bed, Liu Jingye lit a cigarette and mused, “So both Japanese and jungle tribesmen have come, plus a notorious Asian assassin group. It seems there’s more hidden drama behind this peaceful facade than anyone realizes.”

Liu Jingye felt his long-dormant blood start to boil again. Who said only the battlefield had enemies? There were enemies here too, and he could defend his home and protect his people just as well.

“Let’s get to work!” he declared, jumping out of bed shirtless, wearing only beach shorts. He strolled into the front yard and muttered, “I’ve been idle too long—my body’s stiff. I need tougher training to restore my agility and strength.”

He looked around; unfortunately, there was no proper equipment at home. Glancing up, he saw the clothesline—a steel rod set between two wooden posts, quite sturdy.

He leaped up, gripped the bar with one hand, and did more than thirty pull-ups with ease, then switched hands. After that, he swung his legs over the bar, hung upside down, and began doing high-difficulty sit-ups.

Just then, the front gate opened. A long-haired woman in a suit skirt entered. She froze at the sight before her.

A shirtless man hung upside down in the yard, dawn sunlight glinting off his sweat-slicked body, his broad, muscular torso sharply defined, eight-pack abs radiating explosive power.

He looked wild—like a dragon-slaying warrior of ancient times.

What shocked the woman even more was the myriad scars crisscrossing his powerful body—bullet wounds, knife wounds—as if a shattered man had been stitched back together.

Yet his back was perfectly unblemished.

For a warrior, an unscarred back was a badge of honor; it meant he’d always faced forward, never retreated.

“Greetings, madam. Are you here for a meal or lodging?” Liu Jingye flipped down and landed directly in front of her. She wore sunglasses, but looked somewhat familiar.

The woman stared blankly at his physique, and when his voice snapped her out of her reverie, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

It was the first time she’d ever stared at a man in such fascination, even letting her mind wander. How could she not feel shy?

“Shouldn’t a gentleman dress properly when speaking to a lady?” she said, regaining her composure.

Liu Jingye grinned sheepishly, hurried inside to dress, and returned to find the woman had removed her sunglasses. Now, it was his turn to be stunned.

He pointed at her lovely face, lost for words. “You…aren’t you…”

The woman smiled slightly, her delicate features glowing with a calm, gentle grace, exuding confidence and tranquility from deep within.

“Allow me to introduce myself briefly,” she said coolly. “A few days ago, you were dragged into an alley by two men who tried to rob you, but you broke their bones instead. That was actually a hidden camera TV program testing people’s courage and wit—I was the producer.

“Not long ago, someone reported on Weibo that Deputy Director Liang Hong of the city’s police was corrupt and abused his power. During the investigation, Liang jumped to his death. The whistleblower was Liang’s mistress, Huang Weiwei. I interviewed her face-to-face. She admitted she came forward because she’d been threatened. Of the three threatening calls she received, one was from a number registered to Liu Jingye.”

Liu Jingye’s brow furrowed—he remembered now. He’d called Huang Weiwei from his own phone, not the space card Hu Ming had bought. But he didn’t care; people like Huang Weiwei meant nothing to him.

Seeing his slight frown, as if she’d gauged his reaction, the woman continued, “Yesterday, you carried a little boy who was running across the street, dodged two speeding cars, and I was a witness. Later, you took a black cab with a violin case to the eastern ring road—I was that driver.

“Then, during the school bus incident on the ring road, a mysterious sniper in the woods resolved the crisis with two precise shots. The authorities have been evasive and never revealed the identity of the real hero…”

The woman recounted everything in detail, as if she knew all the cards in play. Finally, she asked, “Who are you, really?”