Chapter Nine: Executioner on Behalf of Heaven, Part Three

At this moment, the only one still conscious was Director Zhang.

Shen Ye casually picked a long bench and sat down, gazing at the director lying on the ground. “Director Zhang, now you’re the only one left.”

Director Zhang’s body kept retreating until he reached the corner of the room. Gone was the commanding presence he’d had before, the arrogance when he ordered others to beat Shen Ye. Now, his face betrayed a plea for mercy. “Please, let me go. All the money I’ve made, I’ll give it to you. Just spare me.”

“Spare you?” Shen Ye arched his brow and smiled. “If you were only running a pyramid scheme, your crime wouldn’t warrant death. It wouldn’t be difficult to let you go. But you’ve killed people. And not just one. On top of that, you’ve violated women. The evil you’ve done is countless.”

Director Zhang’s face turned ghastly pale, disbelief etched across it, but he quickly shook his head. “No, I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t killed you. You’re mistaken.”

Shen Ye reached for a pack of Hongtashan cigarettes on the table, picked up a cheap lighter, lit one, and took a drag. “I don’t like arguing with people, but once I’m convinced of something, I won’t change my mind. So, you deserve to die.”

“I can give you money. Just let me go. Officials travel a thousand miles for wealth—nowadays, it’s all about money. I’ll give you a million, just spare me. A million! That’s a million!” Director Zhang shouted.

“A million is a huge amount. Honestly, I don’t even have a hundred yuan on me right now. I’m short on cash. But I still have to kill you, because I’m carrying out justice on behalf of heaven,” Shen Ye laughed, taking several more puffs.

He flicked the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor.

Stepping on it, he extinguished the stub.

He then grabbed a pair of unused disposable chopsticks nearby and slowly tore them open.

It was a mundane gesture, but for some reason, it seemed deeply sinister.

Director Zhang, seeing this action, was utterly terrified.

He suddenly darted to the right, trying to skirt around Shen Ye and escape through the door.

But—

In that instant, Shen Ye moved like lightning!

“Help—” Director Zhang’s cry hadn’t even finished when the pair of disposable chopsticks had already pierced his throat.

Director Zhang struggled feebly, clutching at his neck, trying to make a sound, but ultimately collapsed powerlessly to the floor, eyes wide open, staring unwillingly at Shen Ye.

Moments later, he was dead.

Shen Ye methodically did the same to the other thugs, killing them all.

These thugs each had a crime value of four or five, having indirectly helped Director Zhang commit murder. They deserved to die. Having witnessed Shen Ye kill, they could not be allowed to live.

Shen Ye lit another cigarette and checked his experience bar.

His level was still one, and the experience was only about a third of the way through the first level.

Only those with a crime value above ten could provide him with experience. He’d killed five villains in this battle, but only Director Zhang contributed to his experience.

For a crime value of eighteen, did it really give that much experience? It seemed leveling from one to two would be difficult. He needed to kill many more high-crime individuals.

But wasn’t this line of work thrilling?

After all, as a child, he’d watched martial arts novels every day and dreamed of being a hero—championing justice, helping those in need.

But as he’d grown up, the soaring prices, housing costs, and job pressures had all weighed him down. In the torrent of modern urban life, he’d become an ordinary person, working like an ant, earning money just to survive. Looking at the unreachable property prices, he could only sigh.

His childhood dreams had long been worn away by life, withered almost to nothing.

Now, let those childhood dreams bloom again, brightly as ever.

He would become a great hero!

Between the skyscrapers of the modern city, he would walk the rooftops, seeing injustice and cutting down the wicked.

His heart shone bright!

His will grew ever more resolute.

Shen Ye’s gaze grew deeper, as a common man’s soul transformed into that of an extraordinary hero.

After finishing his cigarette, he wiped away his fingerprints and traces, and, smoking, left through the window.

…

Director Zhang actually had a name both grand and imposing: Zhang Jianguo.

The owner of Fast Fisher Restaurant was named Zhang Jianjun. The two brothers’ names bore the deep imprint of their era.

It was past two in the afternoon, with few customers around. Zhang Jianjun and a few chefs from the kitchen had gathered around a table, playing mahjong.

Zhang Jianjun looked about seventy percent like his brother, Zhang Jianguo.

The stakes were twenty yuan per tile, nothing too big—wins and losses for the afternoon would be only a few hundred yuan.

“Bang!”

A loud crash echoed from the private room upstairs.

“What’s your brother doing up there, making such a racket? Should we go check?” Zhang Jianjun’s wife, Li Chunlan, asked. She was an average-looking, dark-skinned middle-aged woman.

“My brother has a few men—thugs. They like to mess around, probably drunk and acting crazy. What’s there to look at? Kong!” Zhang Jianjun watched someone play a seven-wan tile, laughed, and revealed three seven-wan tiles from his hand.

“Damn, boss, your luck’s too good.” Chef Xiao Qin, who’d been konged, complained.

They kept playing, when another loud crash sounded from upstairs.

Li Chunlan couldn’t sit still any longer. She stood up, “I’ll go upstairs and check if they want another case of beer.”

Actually, she worried that if they kept fighting, they’d break the tables and chairs in the restaurant, and that pained her.

She went up to the second floor and opened the door.

Then—

“Ah—!” A sharp scream pierced through the floor, echoing to the four people playing mahjong downstairs.

Zhang Jianjun, annoyed, grumbled, “Damn woman, what are you yelling about?”

“There’s been a murder! A murder! Your brother and his men are all dead. The floor’s covered in blood. Someone, quick!” Li Chunlan muttered.

“What!” Hearing this, Zhang Jianjun forgot all about mahjong, jumped to his feet, and rushed upstairs. When he reached the private room and saw the sprawled bodies, he was utterly stunned. After several minutes, he suddenly snapped out of it. “Call the police, quick!”

Seeing the others still in shock, Zhang Jianjun grabbed his phone and dialed 110. “We’re at Ningxing Road, LC District, Fast Fisher Restaurant. Five people have been killed. Please come quickly.”

After making the call, his eyes still looked dazed.