Chapter 228: Such a Massive Screw-Over
"Bang!" "Bang!" Two muffled gunshots rang out in the empty alley at the same time.
A burst of blood exploded in midair, like red dye scattering everywhere, falling swiftly with a shocking stench…
Half a second earlier, the short gunman pointing at him fell to the ground like a sandbag, his head like a split watermelon—red and white fluids gushing out in a disgusting swirl…
The grotesque sight made Zhang Yang's stomach churn. The tall guy's fate was the same—his large body collapsed face-first, blood pooling and bubbling out through his thick black hair…
Just moments ago, the two men were standing here, blocking Zhang Yang's way, pointing guns at him, ready to send him to hell.
And half a second later—they were both shot in the head.
Judging by where they fell and where they were hit, the two bullets came from different directions—meaning two people helped him kill the assassins and saved his life.
Zhang Yang looked toward both ends of the alley—but it was empty. Not a sound, not a shadow.
"Friends who helped Zhang Yang—could you show yourselves?" Whoever they were, they clearly didn't want to appear, but Zhang Yang still spoke.
His voice echoed through the alley, but no one responded.
Zhang Yang smiled bitterly. If they didn't want to show themselves, he could only shrug. But looking at the corpses all over the ground… how was he supposed to explain this to the police?
"Right. Dantong and Danying." Zhang Yang suddenly remembered what the short guy said—he had already sent people to the PSH Commerce Center to find them.
He ignored everything else and rushed toward the alley entrance. Just as he moved, a sound came from ahead.
A metal door creaked open, shattering the eerie silence.
A young man in a brown jacket and black jeans—
With long hair like a decadent rock singer, carrying a case shaped like it held a violin—slowly stepped out, then turned his head.
He glanced at Zhang Yang leisurely.
He had a thin face, decent features, about 175cm tall, looking ordinary—but his half-hidden eyes under his long hair had no spirit, like an addict craving another fix.
"No need to go." Before Zhang Yang could speak, the man spoke first. "What do you mean?" Zhang Yang tensed—this sudden stranger could very well be another assassin.
Zhang Yang grew wary—there could still be killers left.
"Your two sisters-in-law—my colleague went to protect them. They'll be fine." He spoke casually while walking toward Zhang Yang.
"Were you the one who fired the shots?" Zhang Yang asked suspiciously.
The long-haired young man—
Walked to the tall killer's corpse, nudged his head with his toe, examined it, then took a picture.
He nodded. "Yes."
"This one is Qin Wuchai, ranked fifth in Spade Eight. Former special forces sniper. A pity he chose the wrong path."
Without waiting for Zhang Yang to ask, he went to Scarface's corpse, flipped his neck to check, then looked at Zhang Yang, then went back to searching Scarface while muttering, "Clean work. Looks like special forces technique. How many years have you trained?"
Zhang Yang knew he was asking him. He didn't want to answer, but since this guy saved his life, he answered politely.
"About four months."
"Four months?" The long-haired man paused, glanced at Zhang Yang again, then shrugged with a strange smile—uncertain if he believed him. He continued checking the corpse. "Wang Liuhu—ranked sixth in Spade Eight. Former provincial Sanda champion. If you fought him normally, you might not win. A pity."
He stood up and walked toward the unconscious female assassin. He glanced at her, then at the short man. He walked over, grabbed the short guy's broken skull, straightened it, looked, and said, "Xu Siying, former provincial shooting team member. Before joining the national team, he killed his father-in-law's entire family—five people. High-level fugitive."
Then he stood again, looked at the female assassin, and said calmly, "Tang Qiqi, ranked seventh in Spade Eight. Rumored to be the adopted daughter of Spade Eight's founder, Tang Duan. But Tang Duan is already dead. Really can't understand—shouldn't she be in university at her age?"
"How do you know so much?" Zhang Yang couldn't help it—this mysterious long-haired man listed their identities like reading from a file.
"Of course I know. I must know." The young man stood, walked to Zhang Yang, reached into his pocket, didn't find anything, looked disappointed, and asked, "Got a cigarette?"
"No, I don't smoke."
"Not smoking—how is that being a man?" The long-haired man glared, annoyed, then performed a ridiculous action—he searched Scarface's corpse like feeling up a woman, without hesitation, and actually found a pack of cigarettes. His face lit up in triumph.
Like someone who spent two yuan and won the lottery jackpot, he pulled out his lighter, waved the cigarette pack taken off the corpse at Zhang Yang, and asked, "Want one?"
Zhang Yang shook his head. "What do you do? Why help me?"
"Ah yes, I'm curious about that too." The long-haired man lit a cigarette, holding it between two fingers.
Like a starving addict, he inhaled deeply. "You don't need to know. Knowing too much is bad for you."
"You're a cop?"
He laughed, shaking his long hair. "Can cops grow hair this long?"
"Maybe you transitioned."
The long-haired guy winced, glaring. "Do cops fight as well as I do?"
"Special police—I've seen many." Zhang Yang hadn't seen a single one. But he had seen the Blue Sword Assault Team when they came for him and Qiao Xier.
"Ever watched 007?" The long-haired man finally couldn't help himself and took another drag.
"A spy?" Zhang Yang asked.
"Do I not look like one?"
"Barely."
The man looked offended, stomped out the cigarette. "Shouldn't have saved you."
Zhang Yang ignored the insult. "Why were you here? It can't be a coincidence."
"Of course not. Your Land Rover already has our tracker. Anywhere you go—we know." The long-haired man sighed.
"To protect you, the team even sent me, the gold-medal agent. You should feel honored."
Zhang Yang didn't feel honored at all. "You installed a tracker in my car? When?"
"Less than a week ago. We learned Spade Eight sent their strongest team to ambush you. So HQ formed an emergency team." He paused. "There are too many people. We couldn't find them—so we had to use you as bait. Their target is you. We just needed to follow secretly."
"Use me as bait?" Zhang Yang nearly exploded.
"Alright, alright, I know you're upset. But hey—you're alive, right? And now Spade Eight has only three left. Isn't that an achievement?"
"Achievement?" Zhang Yang was speechless. Being chased and rolling in the dirt didn't feel like an achievement. But hearing only three were left from their group—he brightened. "So only three want to kill me now?"
"Yes. But they have five groups—Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue—each with eight assassins. The ones you killed were the Orange group."
"Fuck!" Zhang Yang spat. Five groups, eight per group—forty killers!?
No wonder the system required insane points to wipe out Spade Eight.
The road ahead was long.
"I'm leaving." The long-haired man glanced at the corpses. "Someone's coming. I notified the local police already. Handle the rest yourself."
He patted the dust off his pants and prepared to leave.
"Wait." Zhang Yang called after him.
"No need to thank me—I'm Lei Feng…"
"Who's thanking you? I'm asking—when will you remove the tracker from my car?"
The long-haired man nearly fell over. "Aren't you afraid of being hunted?"
"I am!"
"Then why remove it?" He stared at Zhang Yang, then seemed to understand. "Relax. That tracker can't record sound or video. So anything ambiguous… any car-sex… we know nothing."
Zhang Yang finally sighed in relief. "Good."
"I'm off." The long-haired man, carrying his heavy case like a street performer, strolled toward the alley exit.
"Hey! What's your name?"
"Ao Tian!"
"Ao Tian?" Zhang Yang repeated. What a cliché name. "Your surname isn't Long, right? Long Aotian?"
The long-haired man stumbled, almost falling.
But he didn't answer—he vanished.
Zhang Yang sighed helplessly and turned to the only survivor—the cherry-lipped female assassin.
He walked over and stared at her. She really was stunning. But keeping her alive meant danger. His heart chilled—he walked toward her to kill her.
Halfway there, he realized something serious. He looked at his watch—it was time for the system refresh.
Damn it. What a massive fucking坑 from this damned system.