Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Mighty Lu Youwei

The remaining thugs who were still conscious all looked at Shen Ye with a trace of fear in their eyes. None of them could guess what this strange man would do next. After all, they had just seen the corpse of Scarface. In these times, anyone who could kill without so much as a change in expression was a truly terrifying figure.

Shen Ye activated the Eye of Justice.

"Lin Zhilong, gangster, theft, murder, rape of decent women, forced women into prostitution. Sin value: twelve."

"Fat Qiang, gangster, murder, rape of decent women, forced women into prostitution. Sin value: eleven."

"Liu Dao, gangster, murder, rape of decent women, and has even raped his own sister-in-law. Sin value: twelve."

With the Eye of Justice, Shen Ye scanned the twenty men. Anyone whose sin value exceeded five met with the same fate—a single chopstick driven through the throat. In a matter of moments, he had killed four men; the others all had a sin value below five, not enough to warrant death.

The stench of blood now permeated the entire floor.

"As for the rest of you, I won't kill you. Hand over all your phones and place them on the floor in front of me; I don't want any of you calling the police," Shen Ye said with a faint smile.

The survivors, having witnessed his methods, were already terrified. They obediently handed over their phones.

Shen Ye raised his foot and stomped down—boom!

Crackling sounds filled the air as all the phones were smashed, some emitting a faint sizzling from their circuits.

He brushed his hands off lightly and ascended the staircase.

...

He reached the thirty-third floor.

The door was unlocked. He pushed it open gently.

Inside, the décor was strikingly luxurious. The floor was paved with microcrystalline tiles, more expensive even than high-end hardwood. The woodwork throughout was all premium solid wood. The television in the living room was colossal—one hundred and twenty inches—worth well over a hundred thousand yuan. There had once been posts online mocking how such an expensive television could ever be sold, but those posters never considered that, in this world, there are people for whom money means nothing.

On the sofa sat a thin, middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses.

Those accustomed to power always possessed an extraordinary aura, and this man’s presence was immense. Simply by sitting there, he seemed to demand that all others look up to him.

Shen Ye smiled faintly, betraying not the slightest anxiety. He drew a Red Double Happiness cigarette from the pack, lit it, took a long drag, and then spoke unhurriedly: "You must be the famous 'Northern Deer' of the legendary quartet—Southern Horse, Northern Deer, Eastern Bear, Western Wolf. Mr. Lu Youwei, boss Lu."

In fact, the Eye of Justice had already confirmed the man’s identity—he was indeed Lu Youwei.

The Eye’s description of him was shocking: "Lu Youwei, professional loan shark, has killed several people, forced countless women into prostitution, ruined many families and left them destitute. Sin value: thirty-three. His crimes are so great that he must not be allowed to live."

Even Ma Guosheng, back in the day, had only a sin value of thirty. Yet Lu Youwei’s was even higher—thirty-three.

Such a man deserved to be cast down to the eighteenth level of hell.

"Yes, that’s me," Lu Youwei replied, taking a cigar from a special case. He clipped the end, lit it with a ZIPPO lighter, and took a deep drag. "And who are you? Some kind of masked freak? This isn't a cosplay convention."

"Who am I?" Shen Ye smiled faintly and began to clap, the sound echoing through the room. "You and Ma Guosheng were equally renowned, but when Ma Guosheng died, he wasn’t nearly as composed as you are now. He was utterly panicked."

"Oh, so you were the one who killed Ma Guosheng," Lu Youwei’s brow furrowed slightly. "You’re the infamous Chopstick Fiend with a criminal record at the police bureau. A pleasure to meet you at last."

At his level, Lu Youwei naturally had access to plenty of information.

He puffed on his cigar. "Still, I didn’t expect the Chopstick Fiend to be such a formidable martial artist—you took on more than twenty men single-handed and defeated them all. If I’d known someone with your skills was available, I’d have tried to recruit a man like you."

"You won’t have that chance. You’re about to die by my hand," Shen Ye replied coolly. "I'll give you three choices: first, die with a chopstick through your throat; second, I kill you with a chokehold; third, since we’re on the thirty-third floor, you could jump. Frankly, I think the third option is best. After all, you’re a well-known boss in the underworld—shouldn’t you die with dignity, rather than at the hands of an unknown like myself? Leaping to your death would be quite poetic, don’t you think?"

Lu Youwei shook his head. "I won’t choose any of those. Because the one who will die here is you."

"Oh? I’m curious—what makes you so confident? Do you have some ace up your sleeve? Another fierce fighter like Du Wenfeng?" Shen Ye asked.

"No, no, don’t misunderstand. This isn’t ancient times—this is an age of advanced technology. There’s one thing in this era that can utterly neutralize martial artists, which is why there are fewer and fewer of them." Lu Youwei slowly set down his cigar. Then, with a sudden movement too fast for Shen Ye to react, a jet-black pistol appeared in his hand.

The gun exuded a chilling, soul-stealing aura.

He aimed it straight at Shen Ye, the threat palpable.

"This is an American Colt M1911A1 pistol. It fires 11.43mm rounds, measures 216mm in length, weighs 1.13kg, has a 127mm barrel, uses a seven-round magazine, and is accurate up to fifty meters. It’s famous for its formidable power and served in the US military and police for seventy years, only retired from police service a decade ago. I managed to acquire one seven years back. It’s not easy to get a gun in our country. In all these years, I’ve used it twice, each time to kill someone who threatened my life."

"Every three days, I make sure to clean and maintain it—this is my ultimate tool for survival."

"Humans surpass tools because they know how to use them."

"Right now, you are a powerful beast—"

"And I am the man who wields the tool."

"No matter how skilled a martial artist is, once a gun is involved, he’s finished. This was already proven more than a hundred years ago, during the Eight-Nation Alliance’s invasion of the Qing Dynasty."

"With a mere squeeze of the trigger, decades of your training become meaningless. Isn’t it ironic?"

"That’s why I’m so calm."

"The one who will die here is you," Lu Youwei sneered.

He didn’t hesitate.

Bang!

He pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to freeze in that instant.

Although Shen Ye’s physical abilities were three or four times that of an ordinary person, this was his first time facing a firearm—such a deadly weapon. Besides, as a martial artist, his focus was primarily on strength, and his agility was only just above average, barely at 2.3. Caught off guard, he tried to dodge, but even as Lu Youwei fired, the very next moment Shen Ye felt the bullet strike him.

It hurt! But the pain was still within the limits of endurance.

Bang!

Lu Youwei was ruthless by nature.

He didn’t pause for a second.

He pulled the trigger again.

He was the sort who finished what he started.

The second shot struck Shen Ye directly in the chest.

At this moment, Shen Ye was keenly aware that his defense, three times that of a normal man, had saved him. Otherwise, that bullet would have pierced his heart.

And Lu Youwei fired a third time.

He was determined to kill Shen Ye!