“Scared? Scared stiff yet? Keep hiring Southeast Asians— I drop one, I drop another. Think mercs will save you? Where’s your sniper? Tell him to shoot. Dare he?”

Changqing roared, the pistol sweeping over the three like a black lantern in a storm. One twitch and he’d turn them into a sieve. The madness and that iron tool pinned them in place.

In the end, Young Master Li didn’t have the guts to burn his boats.

He wanted to use savage payback on Changqing to needle An Ruyi, yet feared blood on his hands. He pinned hopes on a sniper and that Southeast Asian. Naive. He chose Central City Hospital, betting Changqing would flinch. He never imagined Changqing would torch the brakes.

For Changqing, there was nothing left to weigh. He’d swallowed his pride for years, serving big shots so his sister could keep living. Kneeling meant nothing if she breathed.

But today was different. This bastard had a blade at his family’s throat.

When Changqing squeezed the trigger, the weight in his chest fell away like chains in water. Only one thought stayed: clear the wolves before him and get his sister and benefactor out whole. He wasn’t some silk‑suited elite like Young Master Li. He was a rat from the sewer.

Even a rat will bite off a chunk when cornered.

“Changqing! You dare fire? You shoot, I’ll kill your sister!”

Li spat poison, but his body slid behind his two musclemen like a shadow at dusk. That black muzzle felt like a cave swallowing him. He froze.

He wanted to kill Changqing’s sister, sure— but only with a sniper and that Southeast Asian as twin insurance. He craved to make a martial artist taste helplessness, to remind him he was lower caste.

And now? The sniper might not pin Changqing. The Southeast Asian lay dead at Changqing’s feet. They had knives. Race him on speed? Maybe those musclemen could try. Li himself couldn’t outrun a bullet.

“Go on then. Kill one. Try me.”

Changqing flicked the pistol. The dark mouth said all he needed. If Li moved, he’d punch holes through him and then some.

After, he knew he’d have to vanish into a no‑man’s‑land. Better to rip out the thorns now and buy the An family’s trust. Li wasn’t the only one holding hostages. Changqing didn’t mind visiting names on the Li family list later.

With a fighter’s training and the An family’s quiet help, he could finish a string of kills and slip away before the police net closed. That was a “lower‑class” man’s capital. He didn’t have a fancy degree. Strip away the brutal skill, and he was just a lone college kid. How do you fight great clans like that?

Crude methods? Maybe. But they clamped a hand on throats.

“Now. Right now. Let them go. Or I’ll visit Young Master Li’s kin— then yours. He broke the rules, so why should a barefoot man fear those in shoes? Those muscles won’t stop a few rounds.”

Li still mouthed bravado, so Changqing turned the blade toward the two thugs. He kicked the ward door shut. A wooden chair skidded and jammed it like a wedge.

Security outside had heard the shot. They’d want to break in and soothe the storm. If they rushed in now, his plan would drown. He’d just clawed back the reins from Young Master Li. Let security in, and he might lose his sister and his skin.

Under the black cave of the muzzle, the two men holding his sister and Dr. Lin wavered. They worked for money. They were meant to be meat shields, not do the dark work. If Li hadn’t sent his true gunhands elsewhere for today’s hit, these two wouldn’t be here at all.

They didn’t want their families dragged into it. But Li had already broken the rules, using kin as leverage. If they let go now, they’d get “handled” in shadows. With his small heart, he wouldn’t let their families live.

They’d taken Li’s money. There was no road back. Li’s eyes bulged, knife white‑knuckled in his grip.

The two thugs clenched tighter. Li’s terror eased a shade. But Changqing’s muzzle stayed, a moonless hole.

Changqing’s gaze turned cold. He’d given them a chance. He wasn’t a saint. Later, the flood would run red. One life on his hands? He didn’t mind a second. But firing now might rip his sister. That was the one fear still burning.

Then— footsteps, sharp and urgent, ran the corridor. Not security. The police wouldn’t be that fast. This smelled like Li’s last ambush. The sudden relief on Li’s and the musclemen’s faces said it all.

That flicker of slack was the gap Changqing waited for.

“Sis, I’m sorry.”

He whipped the pistol like a thrown iron, smashing the thug’s wrist. He burst forward like a gust through reeds. His aim couldn’t spare his sister and Dr. Lin here. So the gun became a brick.

Words misled. Motion veered. Their taut minds snapped. When Changqing said “sorry” with that bleak face, Li panicked and scuttled behind his men, too rattled to keep threatening.

It was a textbook feint.

The pistol hit like a hidden dart. Changqing was already there. He twisted the hand choking his sister; bone cracked like dry twigs. The thug hadn’t even blinked before Changqing’s elbow hammered his jaw. Teeth flew. Targeted strikes stripped away fight in a heartbeat.

The brute on Dr. Lin jerked in shock. He never thought his partner would fold in under three breaths. He tightened on Dr. Lin— and she sank her teeth into his hand, hard.

“Nice one, Doc!”

Changqing lunged, clamped the knife hand, and wrenched. Bone snapped, clean and bright. He shoved the man off Dr. Lin, shielded both women behind him, scooped his pistol, and leveled it at the three.

The stalemate shattered like glass.

They tried to rush the women again. The muzzle stopped them cold. Hands rose. They edged back toward the window, faces ash‑gray. This twist blindsided Li. His neat plan was tinder now.

“Dr. Lin, please take my sister out. Just move the chair. Get medical staff to guard you. Don’t trust the police.”

He stared at the two pale brutes and Young Master Li, whose face was flushing red like a kettle. His voice came out winter‑hard. The more he saw, the less he believed in the “institutions” that should carry trust.

It wasn’t that he refused to trust. He’d just seen too much night behind their windows.

Like today. The police didn’t arrive at first; fine— maybe their manpower was tied up in a “drill.” But after the noise, the hospital would’ve called. Still no one came. Maybe the An family opened doors for him. Or maybe some An‑side people were already in the Li camp. Who knows?

No institution is a single, solid board.

He wouldn’t let his sister and benefactor slip from a wolf’s jaws into a tiger’s maw. He couldn’t guarantee he’d survive a room full of guns firing at once.

And he’d already fired. He was a “criminal” now, door or not. Once police investigated, the Li family would burn resources to shield their young master. Why would the An family pay the same price to pull him from the net?

Talent? Don’t joke. If talent fed gold, he’d be in a corporate lab or a state institute, not licking blades for a living. His sister might even get better care.

Strength? He remembered the women who came to escort An Ruyi. Murder hid under gentle masks. Their killing aura chilled his spine. Maybe their fists weren’t forged like his over ten harsh years. Their art of killing was deadlier.

That’s real clan capital. By comparison, he was small‑time. Up against pros like that, he was at best a useful piece to spend. He’d seen his horizon since he stepped into this trade.

“Young Master Li, you’re a big man. Why stoop to wrangle with small ones like me?”

He sighed with a bitter twist, but the pistol didn’t lower. He kept the sights on them, steady as frost. In Li’s view, now that the two women were out, they should call it even. Prolonging this hurt both sides.

Too naive. In business, people freeze when they see the weight behind you. Changqing wasn’t a businessman. He wouldn’t allow anyone to grind their heel on his line.

For years, people called his temper good. Not with enemies— with everything else. He yielded. Arguments ended with smiles. Few he ever pushed to a cliff. He stayed low‑key. Those who wanted trouble couldn’t find him. Those who could didn’t bother.

Men like Li, who break the rules, were rare.

“Changqing, your sister and benefactor are already gone. We’re square, right?”

Keep going like this and you'll be chewing bitter fruit, I'm telling you! You don't want your sister grabbed again—put the gun down, we can still bargain!

Even now, Young Master Li stared through fog, blind to the shape of the situation.

He still believed the banner of his grand clan could cow a small fry like Changqing; pedigree would be his shield.

But Changqing lived by one rule: when a mountain looms and casts a killing shadow, you answer with a knife—quick, crude, and final.

Young Master Li, you're still waving threats like paper swords. Do you really think I'd worry about trash like this?

He said the last line with a frost-cold laugh. His finger, hooked on the trigger, jerked hard.