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Chapter 46

Yan Tuo walked far from the hotel before turning on his phone and calling Xiong Hei. He had been “missing” all day and night, so he expected Xiong Hei to answer urgently. However, Xiong Hei took a moment to pick up, and his voice was calm, not as excited as Yan Tuo anticipated.

 

“Yan Tuo?” came Xiong Hei’s voice.

 

“It’s me. Where should I go now?” Yan Tuo asked, trying to pick up on any background noise.

 

He could hear faint sounds in the background—barking dogs and some distant commotion, suggesting that Xiong Hei wasn’t indoors. The noise made it clear that Xiong Hei was preoccupied.

 

“Wait a moment… I’ll send you the address,” Xiong Hei replied, slightly distracted. “Go straight to Ah Peng’s place… Hey, get that dog out of here!”

 

The last sentence was clearly directed at someone nearby.

 

Yan Tuo felt uneasy. He had deliberately been vague, expecting Xiong Hei to ask for details or offer to pick him up. Instead, this indifferent response didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t make sense unless Xiong Hei was dealing with something more pressing.

 

“Where are you now?” Yan Tuo inquired, his suspicion growing.

 

Xiong Hei laughed twice. “I’m handling some business. It’s good that you’re back. Just wait for me. I’ll get back to you,” he said before abruptly hanging up.

 

Yan Tuo was left with more questions than answers.

 

The address Xiong Hei sent led Yan Tuo to a community near the edge of a county, where the buildings sat partially empty. To the west, the landscape quickly gave way to wilderness. The first phase of the project had been delivered less than a year ago, the second phase was newly finished, and the third phase was still under construction. Few residents had moved in, and most of the units were either still being decorated or hadn’t yet begun the process. The low occupancy meant only two or three apartments had lights on in a building of more than ten floors.

 

Yan Tuo followed the address deeper into the community, feeling like a ghost wandering through an empty garden. There were no people, not even a stray cat in sight.

 

After locating the building, he took the elevator to the third floor. The protective wooden boards in the elevator hadn’t even been removed, and a few small renovation ads were still plastered on them. When the elevator doors opened, Yan Tuo looked around. It was a layout with two apartments per floor. Both doors were covered in dust, and decoration materials were piled outside each one. The plastic protective film on the doors hadn’t even been torn off yet.

 

Xiong Hei hadn’t provided a specific room number, only mentioned the third floor. But which one?

 

Just as Yan Tuo was hesitating, the door to one of the apartments opened, and Lu Xian’s head popped out.

 

“As soon as I heard the elevator, I knew it was you,” Lu Xian said with a grin. “No one else lives here yet.”

 

With that, he opened the door wider, inviting Yan Tuo inside.

 

The room was a spacious, flat unit with four bedrooms and two living rooms. The contrast between the inside and outside was striking. From the exterior, it looked like no one lived there, but inside, the decoration was nearly complete. However, the place was chaotic, with lunch boxes and convenience food bags scattered around, and plastic shoe covers piled at the entrance, where more than a dozen pairs of shoes had been left.

 

Yan Tuo changed into indoor shoes. “Is it just you here? Where are the others?” he asked, noting the quiet atmosphere.

 

Lu Xian pointed to the door across the hall. “This whole floor is ours. Ah Peng, along with the fourth and seventh, are playing cards over there. They’re pretty noisy. The rest left earlier when Brother Xiong called them away.”

 

“Did they say what was going on?”

 

Lu Xian shrugged and spread his hands. “No idea. By the way, have you eaten? I can make you a bag of noodles. We’re avoiding takeout deliveries—too many people coming and going, and we can’t risk that.”

 

Yan Tuo raised an eyebrow. “Do you come here often?”

 

“Not really. This place was only built recently. I came last year in ** month, and then again this time.”

 

Last year, when Lin Xirou handled personal matters, Yan Tuo hadn’t been involved. On that occasion, he had been sent to the Qinba Mountains but only to run errands and pick up people. It seemed both times had involved Lu Xian, meaning this place had likely become a regular stronghold.

 

“Do you always stay here when you come?” Yan Tuo inquired.

 

Lu Xian snorted, amused.

 

“What about Aunt Lin? Does she stay here?”

 

Lu Xian shook his head. “This place? It’s not good enough for my goddess.” He paused, then added, “Oh, by the way, your luggage was brought over yesterday. It’s in the master bedroom.”

 

Nodding, Yan Tuo remarked, “The decoration is nice. Mind if I look around? There’s nothing sensitive I should avoid, right?”

 

Lu Xian waved his hand indifferently, gesturing for him to go ahead.

 

Although the house had many rooms suitable for living, it was clear its primary function wasn’t residential. Yan Tuo paused at the door of the largest room, his gaze lingering for a long time.

 

The setup inside was puzzling. Yan Tuo wasn’t well-versed in medical instruments, but he knew enough from his time with Lu Xian. He recognized an electric operating table, a shadowless lamp, ultraviolet disinfecting tubes, and various other pieces of medical equipment. It was clear that while the room wasn’t equipped for high-precision surgeries like bypasses or brain operations, it could handle everything from minor injuries to childbirth. This wasn’t just a living space—it was a fully functioning medical facility.

 

Yan Tuo swallowed lightly, feeling a subtle tension in the air. Although he was familiar with Lu Xian and they often shared casual conversation, there were certain boundaries between them—lines they never crossed, especially when it came to more sensitive matters. He couldn’t be too direct or too clear about his own stance.

 

“Lu Xian, you’ve been studying medicine for so long, and now you’re doing… this?” Yan Tuo asked, gesturing to the makeshift medical setup.

 

Lu Xian responded with a casual shrug, “Hey, it’s all the same to me. Whether here or in a hospital, I’m still healing people, saving lives. If someone’s bleeding in front of me, can I just stand by and do nothing? A doctor’s duty is to help, regardless of what that person has done, good or bad. Besides, if it weren’t for your father’s financial help, I wouldn’t have made it this far. And Lin Xirou has treated me well. I owe her.”

 

Yan Tuo pretended to take it all in stride. “So, you’re not that busy then? I mean, the people here—” he pointed to the operating table—”they don’t come in that often, right?”

 

Lu Xian shook his head. “No, not much. Just a minor injury, like a cut finger. But there was one… back at the start of September.”

 

He glanced towards the door, lowering his voice as if afraid of being overheard by those in the other room. “Someone almost died. Their rib was broken and nearly punctured their lung. Not one of ours though…”

 

Lu Xian paused, choosing his words carefully. “I know that things get messy in the business world, and it’s not rare for people to bleed. But you might want to talk to Sister Lin. She should rein in Xiong Hei and his crew. If something goes too far, it’ll be troublesome. You know, human lives are involved.”

 

Yan Tuo quickly processed the information. Early September. Someone almost died—someone who wasn’t part of their group, but was saved anyway. He recalled Lin Xirou’s previous mission to the Qinba Mountains, which hadn’t gone smoothly.

 

As he pondered, Lu Xian suddenly grinned, as if remembering something funny. “Oh, by the way, Brother Xiong came by last night. Someone stabbed him in the waist, but luckily, he’s built like a tank. Even injured, he was still walking around. The funny thing is, he told me to bandage him ‘severely.’ I didn’t get it at first.”

 

Yan Tuo frowned. “What does he mean by ‘severely’?”

 

“He wanted me to make it look like he was badly injured. No head injuries, but he insisted I wrap half his head in gauze! I thought to myself, what’s the point? Is he hoping for some kind of bonus at the end of the year?” Lu Xian chuckled at his own joke.

 

Yan Tuo began to piece it together. Xiong Hei, who feared nothing, probably feared Lin Xirou’s wrath. If he had botched something, he might have been trying to play up his injuries to win some sympathy—”Look, I messed up, but I’m also badly hurt, so go easy on me.”

 

“And then?” Yan Tuo asked.

 

“Then he rushed off,” Lu Xian replied.

 

“Rushed? Wasn’t he injured?”

 

“Yeah, but it seemed like he had made some kind of merit.”

 

Yan Tuo snorted, feeling that Lu Xian’s chatter was distracting him from his own thoughts. “Go on, make me some noodles. I’m starving.”

 

After sending Lu Xian to the kitchen, Yan Tuo sat down on the sofa, a strange feeling creeping over him. What kind of merit could Xiong Hei have made? And why was everything happening so quickly—leaving last night in a hurry, calling people away as soon as night fell again, even hanging up hastily when Yan Tuo had called earlier?

 

He checked the time. It was already past eight.

 

Thinking it over, Yan Tuo sent a message to Nie Jiuluo:

Be careful these next few days. Something might be happening on this end.

 

On the other side, Nie Jiuluo was in the middle of a relaxing bath. She hadn’t slept well the previous night and had been busy with work all day. This bath was her way of unwinding from the exhaustion.

 

Yan Tuo swallowed lightly, feeling the tension in the air. Although he had known Lu Xian for a while and their conversations were casual, there were boundaries they didn’t cross. Certain topics remained untouched, and Yan Tuo couldn’t afford to be too explicit in his stance. He asked carefully, “Lu Xian, you’ve been studying medicine for so long, and now you’re doing this?”

 

Lu Xian responded with a shrug, “Hey, just doing my part. In the end, it’s still about treating people. Blood is blood, no matter where it comes from. Could I just stand by and do nothing? Doctors are supposed to have compassion. And honestly, without your father’s support, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I owe him.”

 

Yan Tuo tried to play along, acting like he understood. “So, it’s not too busy, right? Our people… should be okay?”

 

He gestured toward the operating table. “It’s nothing too serious?”

 

Lu Xian shook his head, “No, just a small cut. But earlier in September, someone nearly died. Broken ribs, almost punctured the lungs. Not one of our people, though.”

 

He lowered his voice, glancing toward the door as if afraid someone might overhear. “I know that the business world is ruthless, but still, you should talk to Sister Lin. She needs to rein in Xiong Hei and his people. If things get out of hand, it’s too risky—lives are on the line.”

 

Yan Tuo quickly pieced together the information: in early September, someone nearly died—someone not from their own side. The last time Lin Xirou and her team went to Qinba Mountain, things hadn’t been peaceful.

 

As he mulled it over, Lu Xian suddenly remembered something and chuckled. “Oh, by the way, Brother Xiong came in last night, too. Someone got him good, a cut right on his waist. Lucky for him, he’s built like a tank, so he’s still walking around. He even asked me to bandage him up ‘seriously.'”

 

Yan Tuo was puzzled, “Bandage him seriously?”

 

“Yeah,” Lu Xian laughed, “He wanted me to make it look like he was really hurt. The cut was minor, but he asked me to wrap half his head in gauze—like that would somehow earn him extra points at the end of the year!”

 

Lu Xian found it hilarious and laughed heartily.

 

Yan Tuo guessed that Xiong Hei, notorious for his bravado, was actually afraid of Lin Xirou. He must have botched something and was trying to garner sympathy by making his injuries look worse than they really were, hoping Lin Xirou would go easy on him.

 

“And then?” Yan Tuo asked.

 

Lu Xian shrugged, “Then he hurried off, looking excited like he did something important.”

 

Yan Tuo couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Why would Xiong Hei be in such a rush after getting hurt? Even if he thought he had done something significant, this wasn’t the time to be reckless.

 

He dismissed Lu Xian to go cook him some noodles, using the moment alone to gather his thoughts. Something big was brewing, and Xiong Hei might have discovered something critical. It wasn’t just about an injury anymore.

 

Yan Tuo sent a quick message to Nie Jiuluo: “Be cautious in the next few days. There might be some movement on our side.”

 

Meanwhile, at her end, Nie Jiuluo was soaking in the bath, trying to relax after a hectic day. She saw Yan Tuo’s message but didn’t think much of it. Things had already been in motion for a while. She thought to herself, _Hasn’t the other side been active all along? They’re meeting with Nanba tomorrow—of course, there’s going to be action.

 

She set the phone aside and, feeling a sudden surge of boldness, dipped her head below the water. But as the water reached her jaw, panic set in, and she quickly sat back up, abandoning her brief attempt at underwater meditation.

 

***

 

In the countryside, it grew dark early, and Jiang Baichuan had gone to bed after a video call with Quecha. Quecha was still upset about being left behind, and Jiang Baichuan had tried to soothe him with little success.

 

Just as Jiang Baichuan was drifting into sleep, he had a vivid dream: his father, the lame man, was kneeling, a gun pressed to his head. “It’s the eighth, and your people haven’t come for you. There’s no use keeping you around.” The gun went off, and Jiang Baichuan woke in a cold sweat, unsure if the noise had been real or just part of his nightmare.

 

Before he could gather himself, Xing Shen was banging on the door, his voice urgent, “Uncle Jiang, are you awake? Don’t turn on the lights.”

 

Jiang Baichuan, still disoriented, stumbled to the door, and Xing Shen pulled him to the window, parting the curtain just slightly. “Look,” he said.

 

Jiang Baichuan peered into the darkness, but his eyes couldn’t make out anything. He knew Xing Shen’s night vision was sharp, though, better than any device.

 

“They’ve surrounded us,” Xing Shen said quietly. “Six to the south, three to the west, four to the east, and three to the north. Sixteen in total.”

 

Jiang Baichuan’s heart raced. “It’s them? Are you sure?”

 

Xing Shen nodded grimly. “No doubt.”

 

Sixteen against their remaining nine—it didn’t look good. Jiang Baichuan, feeling the sweat on his brow despite the cold, whispered, “Should we wake everyone? We’ve got some guns, maybe we can fight our way out.”

 

Before he could finish the thought, Xing Shen’s expression darkened. “They’re already inside.”

 

Just then, they heard the sound of a door being broken downstairs. The blitz had begun.

 

Xing Shen reacted quickly upon hearing the commotion. His instincts kicked in, and with a sharp breath, he bolted toward the darkness, disappearing from sight. Jiang Baichuan, still dangling from the window, could feel his heart pounding in his chest as two strong hands gripped his arms, pulling him upward.

 

“Come up, old man!” the voice barked again, filled with a mixture of impatience and mockery.

 

Jiang Baichuan struggled for a moment, adrenaline surging through his veins. He glanced down at the ground, calculating the height—if he could just let go and land properly, maybe he could make a run for it. But the grip on his arms was unrelenting.

 

“Stop resisting,” another voice chimed in. “We’ve got you.”

 

Just as Jiang Baichuan felt himself being hoisted back into the building, there was a sudden sharp noise—a gunshot echoed in the distance, cutting through the night air. The hands gripping him momentarily loosened, and in that brief second of hesitation, Jiang Baichuan twisted his body, kicked against the wall, and broke free from their grasp. His body swung outward, and he released his hold, falling toward the ground.

 

The landing wasn’t graceful—his legs buckled beneath him as he hit the dirt with a painful thud. Gritting his teeth against the sharp pain that shot through his knees and back, Jiang Baichuan scrambled to his feet, gasping for air. He turned just in time to see a figure emerge from the shadows.

 

It was Xing Shen, crouched low with the gun in his hand, scanning the surroundings with hawk-like precision. His eyes met Jiang Baichuan’s briefly, a silent communication passing between them.

 

“Move!” Xing Shen hissed, jerking his head toward the open field.

 

Jiang Baichuan limped after him, his breath ragged, as they both disappeared into the night, leaving behind the shouts and chaos from the building. The darkness enveloped them, and with every step, the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at Jiang Baichuan’s mind.

But one thing was certain—they had narrowly escaped, and now, they had to survive.

 

Thank you for reading!
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An Owl Rising From The Green Soil

An Owl Rising From The Green Soil

Love On The Turquoise Land (Drama)
Score 8.0
Status: Ongoing Type: , Author: , Artist: Released: 2020 Native Language: Chinese
Over two thousand years ago on a deep night, Xu Fu* set sail to the eastern seas in a treasure ship to search for immortality, but few people knew that at the same time, a group of black-turban soldiers secretly entered the vast and dense Nanbao forest… A millennium later, the dark legend continues to slowly grow in the shadows. Xú Fú: Qin dynasty court necromancer and was tasked by Qin Shi Huang to look for the elixir of life between 219 BC and 210 BC. He never returned after departing on his second mission in 210 BC.

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