Chapter 27: Scarface

9:30 p.m.

Jinhaodu—the most prestigious residential complex in Ning County.

Monitored entrances, countless cameras scattered throughout. Shen Ye paced along the outer perimeter of the complex. The wall surrounding the neighborhood stood over three meters high.

Fortunately, Shen Ye had come prepared. The first essential item was, of course, a mask. In a place crawling with surveillance, letting his true identity slip would only invite a police investigation. The safest way was to wear a mask.

Last time, facing Ma Guosheng’s black syndicate, he’d made do with a random Guan Yu mask he’d picked up. Tonight, however, he wore one that he’d crafted meticulously: lifelike, with a phoenix-shaped face and silkworm brows, exquisitely detailed. When the mask settled over his features, Shen Ye’s demeanor shifted instantly—a chilling aura, as though the peerless general from over a thousand years ago had returned to life and stood on the battlefield once more.

He also carried a long rope, a sturdy iron hook fixed to its end. With a deft swing, the hook soared, catching the top of the three-meter wall. He pulled himself up with practiced ease, slipping inside the barrier without a sound.

Once inside, he retrieved the hook and rope, then vanished into the night, moving stealthily toward Building Eight.

This building housed three apartments per floor. As he took the elevator, he bumped into someone—a man who eyed Shen Ye curiously.

“Never seen cosplay before?” Shen Ye retorted.

The man nodded in sudden understanding. “So you’re cosplaying Guan Yu, right?” He glanced up and down, then added, “You’re just missing the Green Dragon Crescent Blade.”

“I left it with my cosplay group,” Shen Ye said offhandedly.

The man nodded, and as they reached the sixteenth floor, he exited.

Shen Ye rode the elevator to the thirty-first floor. There, in the stairwell, two thugs loitered, leaning against the wall. These were guards set by Lu Youwei; should any strangers appear, they were to investigate immediately. Lu Youwei, deathly afraid, had fortified his headquarters with every precaution—breaking in would be no simple task.

The two men smoked and chatted idly.

“The woman Scarface brought back today—damn, she’s fine. Short, maybe, but that chest… Hell, just thinking about it makes me hard,” one of them sneered.

“Heard she’s some guy’s wife who owed a loan shark. What a prize—never had a woman like that before. Scarface is in for a treat,” the other replied, grinning lasciviously. “Maybe, when Scarface’s had his turn, we’ll get a taste too.”

They laughed crudely. Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open. The two thugs assumed it was one of their own. They couldn’t have known—a masked figure, Guan Yu’s visage staring back at them, stood inside. Before they could question him, or even react, the man lunged forward at a speed almost too swift to follow, closing the distance in a heartbeat.

Both hands shot out, seizing each thug by the throat. They choked, faces flushing, unable to breathe. Then, with a sudden release, they gasped for air—only for a vicious blow to strike the base of their skulls, sending them crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

Shen Ye dragged the bodies aside, silent and swift, to avoid raising any alarm.

His target: Apartment 3101.

He slipped toward it; the door stood half-open.

—

Apartment 3101.

A space of about a hundred square meters. Within, eight women were imprisoned—victims, all, of Lu Youwei’s gang. Each had already been brutalized by Scarface and his men, locked up inside.

Wen Xiuting, captured just that day, was bound to the sofa. Whoever tied her up was clearly an expert; her generous curves were cinched even more tightly, shockingly accentuated. Fear etched her face. She struggled, twisting, desperate to retreat, desperate to escape. But her strength was no match for her bonds.

“Don’t come near me! Please, just give me a month. I’ll borrow the money from friends or relatives and pay you back. Let me go. Please, let me go!” Wen Xiuting pleaded, struggling.

“Let you go?” Scarface, her captor, laughed cruelly. “You think I’d let a prize like this slip away? I’ve had plenty of women, but only two or three as fine as you. Can’t wait to get my hands on those and feel how they bounce. I’ll squeeze you until you break.”

He swallowed hard. “If that debtor hadn’t tried to run this afternoon—made me chase him down—I’d have had you already. Hell, even if I needed a blue pill, I’d have gone seven rounds with you. A treasure like this—wouldn’t waste a single shot.”

Wen Xiuting’s face was ashen. “You’ll pay for this. Karma will come for you.”

“Karma?” He laughed, mocking. “I’ve been running with gangs since I was a teenager. I’ve forced hundreds of good women, killed more men than I can count. Has karma ever caught up to me? That’s just a ghost story for fools.”

He grinned, voice low and obscene. “Build bridges, die in ditches; kill and pillage, wear a golden belt. Ha!”

His hand shot out, grabbing for her chest, intent on crushing her with brute force.

Wen Xiuting screamed.

—

Scarface thrilled at her cries. This was what he loved most—the despair and agony of decent women, just before they were violated. That helplessness, that terror, sent a rush of pleasure through his bones.

So lost in his excitement, he never noticed the figure behind him. Suddenly, a hand clamped onto the back of his neck.

And then—

A tremendous force drove him downward. His head slammed into the tiled floor with the force of a meteor striking earth.

Crack!

Blood gushed from his ruined nose; his face a mask of red.

The hand yanked him up again. Before he could curse, before he could even gasp, his head was smashed down once more.

Crack!

A second brutal blow. His body went limp, consciousness flickering out.

Again, the hand lifted his head—and for a third time, smashed it against the tiles, merciless and final.

Scarface was dead, beyond any hope of revival. Blood pooled across the floor, splattering even onto Wen Xiuting where she sat, bound and trembling.

(Begging for your recommendations this Monday, as we vie for the new book rankings.)