Chapter 23: The Fall

“Are you from Country Y?”

Only at this moment did the Old Master finally deduce her true identity—she was here to avenge the Y Country detective. The person he had trusted most, Gong Shenxi, the heiress of the W Group who had always been by his side, had long since been replaced by another. She had hidden herself so well.

Her sole purpose had always been to find evidence of W Group’s crimes and a point of breakthrough, so that one day she could avenge those who had died in the Falcon Operation in the East Continent. She wanted to kill him.

“When did it happen?”

“When did Axi—when did she die at your hands?”

His gaze grew deep and shadowed as he spoke, his voice hoarse, revealing that he did, after all, care about his granddaughter Gong Shenxi—she was, after all, his only remaining blood. Both his children had died at the hands of his enemies; if Gong Shenxi was gone too, he would be left utterly alone in this world.

“You want revenge for that Y Country detective.”

The Old Master was a shrewd man. Now that he knew the girl before him was from Y Country, everything became clear. Most likely, from three years ago, the so-called heiress of W Group, Gong Shenxi, had perished in that car accident. In her place was this mysterious young woman, who had put on a meticulous act under his very nose, inside his group, for three whole years. Only now did he finally learn of Gong Shenxi’s death.

“Shouldn’t I?” Shen Zhaoxi replied coldly.

She looked at the Old Master with icy eyes, her hatred laid bare. This made him recall the Falcon Operation three years ago, when they had caught that Y Country detective—was his name Zhou Xu? They had captured him and locked him for three days and nights in a water dungeon filled with venomous snakes. He had thought the young man would die in that dark, poisonous cell, but he survived. In the end, he decided to keep him barely alive, throwing him into the underground black cell with his tendons severed. They injected him with drugs, his body covered in blood until his black police uniform turned dark red. The marks of soaked blood were everywhere. Every day, he was tortured with electric shocks, his spirit and body utterly broken, reduced to a ghostly figure.

Yet, even so, he clung to life with dogged determination.

The Old Master remembered him because during that Falcon Operation, W Group had suffered heavy losses. This young detective Zhou Xu, after half a month of such torment, had covered the walls with words scrawled in blood—densely packed, all written in blood. The Old Master had never before seen such courage and conviction in a young man. It was a pity, though, that it was also their actions that had caused so much death and destruction within the W Group, costing him more than half his men.

Thinking of this, the Old Master fingered his prayer beads. The wrinkled skin of his aged hand rested on the armrest, then he gestured.

“Kill her.”

“Yes—”

Dozens of black-clad bodyguards immediately stepped forward, shielding the Old Master. Amin, dressed in tight leather, her eyes fierce and wild as a wolf’s, glared at Shen Zhaoxi. To her, her previous respect had only been because Gong Shenxi was the Old Master’s granddaughter, the heiress of W Group. Now, the girl before her was nothing at all.

Amin stepped forward.

Seated in the chair, the Old Master’s expression was cold and unmoved, as unyielding as a mountain. He fingered his prayer beads, closing his eyes. The kindly face of the past had vanished—he exuded a chilling, murderous air, letting his bodyguards fight the girl in front of him.

Shen Zhaoxi moved swiftly.

Amin advanced to intercept her, having received the Old Master’s direct command—she must kill Shen Zhaoxi. As the Old Master’s confidante, Amin’s skills were formidable and her reflexes sharp. The moment Shen Zhaoxi closed in, she felt a chill sweep over her—a dagger grazed her face. Fortunately, she dodged quickly, suffering only a shallow scratch that drew a thin line of blood.

Amin’s shock mingled with the fierce, wild look in her eyes—like a wolf’s. Yet what astonished her most was the girl’s extraordinary speed. The Old Master sat unmoving, eyes closed, even as the two fought not far before him. He had given the order—Amin must kill Shen Zhaoxi; he would see her die here. He would allow no one to challenge his authority.

The two figures tangled together, arms locking, each trying to restrict the other. Shen Zhaoxi’s dagger was gripped tightly in Amin’s hand, held inches from her eyes. Blood dripped from Amin’s palm.

Shen Zhaoxi pressed harder; Amin stubbornly resisted, the blade almost touching her eye. At such close quarters, under the harsh light, the girl’s face and the faint discoloration on her neck came into view. The way Shen Zhaoxi wielded the dagger reminded Amin of military knife techniques. Amin’s face changed, suspicion dawning—“Are you a soldier?!”

“You realize it too late—” Shen Zhaoxi sneered.

Seeing the blade could advance no further, she bent her knee and, with a sudden burst of strength, forced Amin back two steps, her gaze as cold as shattered ice.

In a flash, Shen Zhaoxi switched the dagger from her right to her left hand, slicing toward Amin’s face—a spray of blood erupted. Amin’s cheek was slashed open, a long, narrow wound. But her throat was spared—she spun away in time, narrowly evading a fatal blow.

If not for the injury to her chest, her wounds not yet healed, Shen Zhaoxi would never have been so evenly matched with Amin. Even with Amin’s skill and ruthless attacks, she would not have struggled this much. Both searched for the other’s weakness.

Shen Zhaoxi’s was obvious—her injuries. Sweat beaded her pale brow, and under the lights, her wan complexion was clear to Amin, who saw her chance. Every move she made now targeted Shen Zhaoxi’s wounded side, and Shen Zhaoxi could not keep up. Soon, she was hurt again, blood at the corner of her lips, her face growing paler as she looked at Amin, exhausted.

Amin’s gaze was venomous in return. She was badly wounded too—in this fight, perhaps even more so. Her arm and abdomen bore multiple knife wounds, all delivered by Shen Zhaoxi. Clutching her abdomen to staunch the bleeding, she watched Shen Zhaoxi like a wolf.

Shen Zhaoxi’s defeat lay in her original wounds—fighting before they healed was pushing herself to the brink.

With a heavy thud, she was kicked in the abdomen, slamming into the glass door behind. As Amin’s fist swung toward her, she twisted away just in time.

Amin, in both look and movement, was every inch a wild wolf. No wonder she had survived so long at the Old Master’s side, as his personal bodyguard—her skills would place her among the elite in any mercenary corps.

Otherwise, how could the Old Master remain so fearless? As the head of the W Group, master of both the underworld and legitimate enterprises in the East Continent, he had countless enemies. Yet none had ever come close to him, all thanks to her.

The two women drew back, putting distance between them. Blood dripped from Shen Zhaoxi’s wrist, her chest wound torn open anew, blood flowing down her right hand to stain her fingertips.

In that moment, Amin frowned as she watched the blood drip from Shen Zhaoxi’s fingers, then looked down at her own chest. She realized—Shen Zhaoxi had had the opportunity to kill her, so why hadn’t she?

A wicked, mocking smile curled Shen Zhaoxi’s lips, as if recalling some secret.

Amin’s face changed abruptly, panic flickering in her eyes as she glanced at the Old Master seated afar. He sat there, seemingly unperturbed, but his pupils were clearly contracted. And in his chest—a military knife was plunged deep, swift and sure, straight into his heart. The wound gushed blood.

That was why, even when Shen Zhaoxi had had the chance to kill Amin, she had left her unharmed—because her true target had always been the Old Master.

Amin was utterly stunned. When had Shen Zhaoxi acquired a military knife? She had only ever wielded a dagger—how had this happened?

In that instant, Amin’s eyes flashed with bloody fury as she looked at Shen Zhaoxi. Her expression turned icy.

Shen Zhaoxi realized what she meant to do—avenge the Old Master, and, with the building set to explode in three minutes, drag Shen Zhaoxi with her to die in mutual destruction.

But just outside the study on the top floor, standing before a vast pane of gray glass that merged seamlessly with the skyscraper’s transparent design, Shen Zhaoxi seized her chance. As Amin lunged at her, she wrapped her arms around Amin, and together they hurled themselves at the glass.

Crash!

The massive pane shattered instantly as they crashed through it. One woman pinned the other’s shoulders tight, leaving her unable to move, while the other’s eyes burned with murderous resolve—though Amin wanted to resist, it was far too late.

Together, they plunged from the heights of the building.

From the rooftop, they fell, smashing through layers of glass, shards swirling around them, slashing their bodies, the fragments clattering as they struck the lower floors. Down, down they tumbled.

Suddenly—

A resounding crash echoed through the building, the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground. The world fell silent.

The heavy, abrupt sound of bodies striking the floor reverberated through the W Group’s tower. Shards of glass, sparkling like snow, rained down, splattered with fresh blood.

Amin lay beneath, her eyes wide with pain and malice as she stared at Shen Zhaoxi. Then blood welled up from her throat, spilling endlessly.