The Interrupted Plan for Revenge

"Alright!" Old Xiao managed to squeeze out a word with difficulty. But immediately after, he added, "Wild Dog is progressing rapidly; he's already earned his first Crown of Thorns. Shouldn't the organization..."

"You needn't worry about that," Mu Mo interrupted. "At this moment, Wild Dog is not my target. His presence has caused some minor inconveniences, that's all. The organization wants me to assess whether he is worth keeping around; nothing is certain yet."

With Mu Mo's words, Old Xiao truly found himself unable to speak further. All he could do was silently pray, hoping that when Hou Rui encountered this perverse lunatic, Mu Mo, he might possess some qualities that would win Mu Mo's favor and thus spare his own life.

"Alright, I made you come all this way, my apologies. How about I treat you to a meal? There’s a sushi place not far from here with excellent reviews. Would you care to try it, Blade Demon?" Mu Mo's face changed abruptly, adopting the familiar demeanor of a neighborly old friend as he made the suggestion to Old Xiao.

Unfortunately, Old Xiao refused to play along. He resolutely stood up and cast a final glance at the pool, seeing that the only part of the man in the net that remained was a hand tightly gripping an iron plate. Everything below the wrist had long since been devoured by the violent corrosion of concentrated sulfuric acid.

"No need. I’m leaving. I can still catch a flight home." With those words, Old Xiao departed the house.

Once Old Xiao was gone, Mu Mo, left alone and bored, stood up as well. He picked up the water gun again and continued spraying the man’s remaining hand in the net until it, too, dropped into the acid pool. Only then did Mu Mo remove his plastic gloves and toss them into the pool. He picked up his briefcase and unhurriedly left the house.

The next morning, Hou Rui’s alarm had just started ringing when a message arrived on his phone. He scrambled up and grabbed his phone to read:

Zhou Xing, born 1986, graduate of Beijing University’s Department of Chinese Literature, double doctorate in Law and Economics from Princeton University. His father, Zhou Haize, is currently Minister of Energy; his mother, Zhao Li, serves as Secretary-General of the National Women’s Federation. The Zhou family is a third-generation red family in Beijing, with 75 immediate and extended members who control the real political, economic, and law enforcement power in Jiangsu-Zhejiang and Hubei. Zhou Xing himself is known for being sullen and narrow-minded, suspected of orchestrating numerous assaults and disappearances.

Thousands of words followed, not only detailing Zhou Xing’s background but also presenting an extensive gallery of photos and even charts mapping out the Zhou family’s entire genealogy and the range of their influence. The more Hou Rui read, the more stunned he became. No wonder Zhou Xing could so easily manipulate the police into targeting him; the Zhou family was a behemoth with tentacles spread all across Beijing.

But this also sparked another suspicion in Hou Rui’s mind. Had the organization been monitoring the Zhou family all along? Otherwise, how could they have compiled such a detailed report in just a few hours? If that was the case, then the organization’s intelligence capabilities were at least on par with a small nation.

"Whatever! My target is only Zhou Xing, not his entire family. As long as I can get ahold of his whereabouts and have just one minute alone with him, that will be enough for me to get even." Hou Rui muttered to himself as he began his morning routine and readied himself for the day’s classes.

When Hou Rui, his face covered in bruises, walked into the classroom, he immediately became the center of attention among the entire second photography class. Li Lei and Ma Siyuan seized the opportunity to spread rumors, insisting that Hou Rui had been beaten up by his girlfriend for cheating. This earned Hou Rui a barrage of disdainful looks from the girls.

Later, in French class, the same story repeated itself. Li Lei and Ma Siyuan, ever the mischief-makers, used the chance to further slander Hou Rui, undermining his image among the female students and reducing his odds of competing with them for their affections. In a corner of the classroom, however, Cheng Lin was consumed with guilt. She believed it was her misunderstanding that had led to Hou Rui’s injuries, and, feeling remorseful, decided to leave him alone for the moment instead of pursuing him further.

As a result, Hou Rui suddenly found himself with more free time. Besides his part-time job at Old Yang’s, he would drive his “40” all over Beijing, searching for an opportunity to catch Zhou Xing alone. The organization’s data indicated that Zhou Xing had three homes and two women in Beijing, making him a constant roamer. That dog of his, Xiao Bei, was almost always at his side, which left Hou Rui without a single chance.

To be honest, Hou Rui had no intention of killing Zhou Xing. If that were his goal, he could have simply gotten a gun and finished everything in a single second—there’d be no need for such elaborate planning. The reason he chose this difficult path, waiting for Zhou Xing to be alone, was so he could give him a proper beating. Hou Rui’s self-imposed minimum was to break all five of Zhou Xing’s limbs.

After a week, Hou Rui had thoroughly mapped out Zhou Xing’s movements, learned everything about his entourage, and familiarized himself with his nightly routines. On the day Hou Rui planned to act, he sat in a stolen black car, the trunk stocked with a sack, duct tape, and a club, waiting for Zhou Xing to emerge from his woman’s house. At that very moment, a mission notification from the organization suddenly arrived on Hou Rui’s phone.

"Solo mission. Codename: The Solitary. Arrive in Somalia within a week. Locate and eliminate General Garcia. Mission deadline: six months. Reward: two million dollars."

"Damn! Two million dollars and a six-month window? Who the hell is this General Garcia?" Hou Rui stared blankly at the organization’s orders. Even setting aside the challenge of securing a half-year leave from school, the two-million-dollar reward was twice the amount of a red-level mission. Was this a suicide job with a hundred percent fatality rate?

Hou Rui racked his brain, unable to make sense of it, so he surrendered and decided to ask someone for advice. His chosen advisor was, of course, Old Yang, the con artist.

"Old Yang, I’ve received a mission notice." Ditching the stolen car, Hou Rui headed straight to the ironworks, opening with blunt honesty.

"If you’ve got it, then go do it. Why tell an old man like me?" Old Yang was as usual, fiddling with keys and lock cylinders beneath his magnifying glass.

"But there’s something about the mission I don’t understand."

"Let’s hear it—I'm bored anyway!" Old Yang replied, switching on an old radio. Immediately, the wailing notes of Peking Opera filled the air.

"It’s a solo mission, but the reward is two million. Just how difficult must this be? Does this mean there’s almost no chance I’ll make it back alive?"

"Is that all? Any other details?"

"Right, the mission period is six months."

"Well, that makes it clear. This is a search-and-destroy mission. The two million reward is huge, but it doesn’t mean you’ll definitely get it. For these tasks, the organization assigns multiple people at once. Whoever completes it first gets the money." Old Yang didn’t even look up.

With that, Hou Rui understood: it was all down to luck. Whoever got to the target first would claim the massive reward. So perhaps this mission wasn’t as terrifying as he’d feared.

But then another worry struck him. "Old Yang, what if I’m not the one to finish the job? Will the organization treat me as a failure and dispose of me?" Hou Rui instinctively touched his neck.

"Heh heh, I was wondering when you’d realize that. Relax. Even if you don’t find the target, the chip in your neck won’t be triggered after six months. As punishment, the organization will probably transfer you to the Combat Unit. I don’t need to tell you what kind of place that is, do I?" Old Yang finally looked up at Hou Rui, his eyes brimming with malicious glee.

"Damn, how is that any different from killing me outright?"

"The difference is you don’t die right away," Old Yang said, looking even more pleased.

Hou Rui sat in silence for a while, then left Old Yang’s tin shack without another word. The old man, grinning wickedly, didn’t try to stop him but called out from a distance, "Six months is a long time. Settle your affairs first. The hours you owe me—make them up double when you get back, if you come back at all!"

An hour later, Hou Rui’s “40” was parked outside the gates of the Beijing Police Academy. As he was about to reach for his phone, it rang first. Glancing at the screen, Hou Rui burst out laughing, "Hey, wife, we really are on the same wavelength. I’m right outside your school."

"Hahahaha, Monkey, guess what? I’m rich! I’m a little tycoon now! Hahahaha!" Jin Shanshan’s excited laughter interrupted him before he could finish.

"What, did you win the lottery?" Her excitement even made Hou Rui a little giddy.

"Not quite, but I inherited a fortune—a windfall from the heavens! A full two hundred thousand dollars! Two hundred thousand! Hahahaha, hurry up and congratulate me!"

Only two hundred thousand! And she’s this happy? How petty. Look at me—two million on offer and I don’t feel like laughing, only crying! Hou Rui scoffed inwardly at Jin Shanshan, but then, a bit concerned, he added, "That’s some luck. Are you sure it’s not a scam? Did they ask you for a deposit before you claim your inheritance?"