Chapter 128: Murder, and Silencing the Witnesses

The speed of the police cars was undeniable. The dozens of pairs of eyes on the scene were the best proof; to say it took the blink of an eye from the first wail of sirens to the arrival of the vehicles was no exaggeration.

Eighteen cars—eighteen police vehicles in total. It was no overstatement to call this the most luxurious police lineup in Jinhai City.

As the crowd turned their gazes toward the commotion, the police cars sped in, forming four neat lines. With sharp braking and disciplined movements, no fewer than fifty officers swarmed out in a matter of seconds. Each held a standard-issue pistol, quickly sealing off the area in a combat stance.

It was a cold, hard fact that the weaponry of these police cars was quite basic. Compared not only to the armed forces but even to the decimated subordinates of the Fang family, the disparity was like heaven and earth.

The last person to emerge from the lead car was a man of about forty-five. While he lacked the terrifying physique of a Japanese sumo wrestler, he was definitely on the heavy side. Standing no taller than 1.65 meters and weighing in at two hundred pounds, he looked like a round, fleshy ball.

Yet, looks can be deceiving. The man, who appeared simple and honest, swept his gaze over the scene. A flicker of murderous intent flashed across his brow, sharpening significantly when his eyes landed on Fang Ming, who was struggling to stand with a bloodied right hand. However, the man quickly masked this expression.

"How are they here so soon? That old fox still showed up."

Seeing the man, Secretary Zhu’s face tightened. A trace of displeasure flickered in his eyes, and he muttered to himself, his voice no louder than a mosquito’s hum.

Though the voice was low, Lin Yang, who had just been escorted over by the armed officers, heard it clearly. He stared intently at the most prominent middle-aged man walking from the back of the police formation, his eyes filled with curiosity. From Secretary Zhu’s words, he could tell that the two men were well acquainted.

The middle-aged man, having stepped forward, shot a cold, fleeting glance at Secretary Zhu before his face transformed into a beaming, sycophantic smile—a transition as swift as flipping a book page. A hearty, boisterous laugh followed: "Hahaha, Brother Zhu, why didn't you call for me with such a grand formation? If anything were to happen to you, how would I answer to the higher-ups?"

The words sounded intimate, yet the underlying tone was far from welcoming.

"Hypocrite. A beast in human clothing." The one whispering wasn't Secretary Zhu, but Zhu Yunyun, who stood beside him. Clearly detesting the rotund man, she gave him a sharp, disdainful glare, her lips curling in cold mockery.

Perhaps out of caution, her voice was very low—truly talking to herself.

Hearing her tiny, buzzing murmur, Lin Yang couldn't help but grin. He turned to look at Zhu Yunyun, who looked even more captivating with her flushed cheeks and pouting expression. One look was enough to leave him momentarily mesmerized, and his gaze wandered—rather lecherously—down toward her chin, lingering along the way.

Hastily shifting his eyes away from her pretty face, Lin Yang offered a hypocritical prayer in his heart, though it sounded more like a monk chanting sutras: "Sin, oh, what a sin."

A monk chanting is a duty, a professional obligation. But when Lin Yang "chanted," it was nothing more than self-deception. He had seen what he had seen; no one was blaming him, yet he shamelessly claimed it was a sin.

He had merely glanced a few too many times at the girl’s well-endowed bosom, and perhaps entertained a few inappropriate, adult-themed fantasies. At that moment, Lin Yang found himself thinking of Tang Yixue—longing for her virtues, and even more so for her alluring physique, imagining them locked in unrestrained, passionate combat in bed.

As Lin Yang’s thoughts veered into prohibited territory, Secretary Zhu responded. His voice remained quiet, yet it was resonant and firm—the practiced, formal tone of someone who had spent years navigating the political arena.

"What do you mean, Director Fang? I only just arrived myself. The reports said there were outlaws here, heavily armed and numerous. I was afraid the police force might not be able to handle them alone, so I rushed here first. But didn't I send someone to notify you? It seems you’ve already received the news. How can you say I didn't call you?"

*An old fox.* Upon hearing Secretary Zhu’s words, Lin Yang—who had only met the man once—slapped that label on him without hesitation. He shifted his gaze to linger on the Secretary’s face for a few seconds, eager to see what kind of double act this top official of Jinhai City would perform.

After hearing the Secretary’s reply, the middle-aged man—Fang Muren, the Chief of the Jinhai City Police Bureau—paused in his tracks. The muscles in his face twitched violently, and the handlebar mustache at the corners of his mouth twitched, creating a comical effect. His face cycled between shades of green and white; one could easily tell how much fury he was suppressing.

Fang Muren truly wanted to kill someone, but that someone was the incompetent Fang Ming. *Failure in success, excess in failure*—that was Fang Muren’s assessment of him.

However, despite his inner rage at the Secretary’s cold sarcasm, he showed no outward sign of it. He cursed inwardly: *Notify me? Notify your mother! If my own eyes hadn't spotted you mobilizing the armed forces, I wouldn't have known about this until who knows when. If I’d waited for your people to tell me, everyone in our Fang family would be dead by now.*

Though his heart was boiling with fury, Fang Muren could not explode. The current situation was highly disadvantageous for the Fang family. Even if it reached the higher-ups, they would gain nothing, or worse, make fools of themselves.

The firearms and ammunition in the hands of his subordinates were hard evidence. China strictly prohibited the private possession of such weapons, and the fact that a group of men was currently engaged in a firefight with the armed forces meant that even if Fang Muren had ten thousand mouths, he couldn't explain it away. Unless...

Unless... At this thought, Fang Muren’s gaze shifted toward the nearby Fang Ming, whose right hand was injured. As the chief of the Western District, he was the third-ranking member of the Fang family in Jinhai. A flicker of sharp, lethal intent vanished from Fang Muren’s eyes.

Fang Ming, biting his lip against the pain of his wound, shuddered involuntarily under that glance. The fear in his eyes revealed the overwhelming pressure of that cold, silent threat.

The most sensitive person present was Lin Yang, whose mental strength, honed by the *Thirteen Blades of Heavenly Spirit*, was far beyond that of an ordinary man. He clearly perceived that seemingly insignificant look from Fang Muren.

It was killing intent. Lin Yang was certain of it. But since it had nothing to do with him, he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"Hahaha, Brother, you really are something else! To find such a hidden place—you truly live up to being sent by the superiors! I am in total awe. But who exactly are these people? Have you managed to investigate that, Brother?" After a round of unreliable flattery, he moved to probe, playing the fool while pretending to be clever. Fang Muren was indeed a master of such tactics.

Unfortunately, this time he faced Secretary Zhu, who was just as cunning and immune to flattery.

Secretary Zhu offered no explanation, but instead asked with a cold, mocking smile: "Oh? Does Director Fang really not know who they are? That’s truly interesting."

His voice was low, but the sarcasm was naked. Anyone present could hear it. Clearly, however, the Secretary had underestimated the thickness of Fang Muren’s skin. Playing dumb was exactly what Fang Muren—the second-in-command who had long coveted the top spot—did best.

"Hahaha, Brother, what are you saying? I’m no prophet. How could I possibly know who these people are? Oh, you mean these outlaws?" His skin was so thick it was terrifying. It was clear Fang Muren had reached the highest level of shamelessness.

Upon hearing Fang Muren’s words, the person most affected was Fang Ming, who had pinned his final hope on him. As a member of the Fang family, he realized he was about to become a tragic sacrifice. But for him to die alone was better than the whole family going down.

A man with a wife and child cannot afford to be soft. If there were a medicine for regret, Fang Ming would have bought it without hesitation.

Fang Muren’s heartless words were effectively a death sentence for Fang Ming. As a member of the clan, he understood the Fang family’s arithmetic all too well.

*Kill to silence.* Not only did Fang Ming understand his situation, but Secretary Zhu also vaguely sensed Fang Muren’s ruthless plan. However, a normal person would never imagine that one's own kin could be so cold-blooded, and that realization left the Secretary one step too slow.

Fang Muren had made his decision, and he acted with cold efficiency. Under the guise of apprehending criminals, he intended to execute them all to cover his tracks.

When Fang Muren’s final, warning gaze met his, Fang Ming knew what he had to do. For the sake of his wife and son, he had no choice.

He bent down, his numb left hand reaching for the gun on the ground. He had only one goal: to provoke the enemy into turning him into a sieve.

*Bang.* The first shot came from Fang Muren. As Fang Ming bent to pick up the gun, the Director pulled the trigger first, not forgetting to shout his orders: "Watch out! The holdouts are resisting! They’re going to counterattack!"

The subordinates who had followed him for years understood the hidden meaning behind their Director’s words. After Fang Muren shot Fang Ming, they followed suit, pulling their triggers at the remaining outlaws.

Kill them all, and silence them forever. That was the ruthless choice Fang Muren made after seeing the situation.

"Stop! Stop!" The gunfire was frantic, and Secretary Zhu’s desperate cries were just as frantic.