Meanwhile, deep into the night, in a small city, an inconspicuous cafe welcomed a short Black man with exceptionally sharp eyes.

In his hand was a 1958 copper-colored 10-franc coin that he seemed to produce out of thin air at the counter. He spoke to an elderly white man in his seventies or eighties who was polishing wine glasses. "Give me a Tequila, make it crimson," he requested in broken Chinese.

"Oh?"

The elderly man with the faltering teeth raised his head slowly, taking a long look at him with his cloudy blue eyes before suddenly breaking into a smile. "Not bad. It seems the youngsters these days are quite good," he said in Italian.

At these words, the Black man frowned slightly, but by then, the old man had already stood up shakily and walked through a nondescript door behind the counter.

"A patron left this for you," he said as he returned a moment later, trembling as he handed over a white envelope.

"...Who are you?"

The Black man quietly pocketed the envelope without a word and turned to leave.

However, just as he was about to exit the cafe, he couldn't help but turn his head back and ask with furrowed brows. Normally, he wasn't one to ask questions, but there was something inexplicably threatening about the old man that made him unable to restrain his curiosity.

After all, he was a Silver Badge Assassin from Italy's strongest assassin organization—the Crimson Fang. How many people in this world could give him a sense of danger with just one glance?

"Me? For people in our line of business, being so talkative isn't a good thing... You can call me Old Peter, or... Shark," the old man rambled, shaking his head slightly. Then, a sharp glint suddenly emerged from the corner of his cloudy, squinted eye.

The temperature in the cafe seemed to plummet instantly, sending a shiver through the normally composed Black man as his pupils contracted. "You're Shark?"

As a Silver Badge Assassin from Italy's Crimson Fang, he was naturally familiar with the moniker 'Shark'—it belonged to one of the three most terrifying aces in his organization. He only knew that Shark had disappeared mysteriously years ago; some speculated he had grown tired of the life and chosen to retire. He never expected to encounter the man here, twenty years later.

His lips trembling, he left the cafe without another word.

"Heh, tough luck, kid."

The elderly white man watched the Black man exit the cafe and disappear into the darkness of the night before he looked away, locked the door, and closed up for the night. He then murmured something thought-provoking.

It seems the old guards have truly aged and gone senile, forgetting just how terrifying this ancient and mysterious country can be.

Elsewhere, the Black man returned to his hotel room and took off his clothes. His tight shirt had concealed a formidable physique, now revealed. The ghastly scars that adorned his body were a testament to his extraordinary life.

I wonder what kind of target this is. To think someone from Huaxia would fork out two hundred million for a hit. He licked his lips with a sinister excitement as he tore open the envelope and extracted a note filled with numbers. He then pulled out the microcomputer he always carried, logged onto a certain website, and entered the numbers from the note.

Chen Fei, 26, from Northern Mountain City in Jiangnan Province, has certain connections with Chen Zhenjun from the Chen Family of Capital City. He is an Ancient Martial Artist from Huaxia with a combat power rating of four and a half stars and a danger level of four stars.

Upon seeing the target's details on the website, the Black man finally understood why the client was willing to pay two hundred million for this person's head. The target turned out to be an Ancient Martial Artist from Huaxia with a high danger level of four stars; that made things slightly troublesome.

"Heh."

Nevertheless, the corners of his mouth twitched, and his rugged face showed a hint of disdain. "So what if he's an Ancient Martial Artist?" he muttered. "God is on the side of our Western Dark World. We Ability Users are the most powerful!"

He snorted, his eyes gleaming with a chilling coldness as a cruel arc formed on his lips. A sharp, crackling sound emanated from his hand, where a ball of white light was writhing restlessly.

Clearly, this man was no ordinary character; he was a Light Attribute Supernatural Being. Among the many elemental abilities in the Western Dark World, the light and dark attributes are considered the rarest and most powerful.

Therefore, he naturally had the right to be arrogant.

He had entered the world of assassins at the age of eleven, apprenticed to one of his organization's four most powerful aces today—Jack the Blade. The name Jack the Blade alone was a legend in the Assassin World; he had never once failed a mission. His fearsome reputation was whispered even in the werewolf castles of the northern Russian snowfields and in the farthest corners of the vast Mafia world. No one did not fear his master.

Yet his master had never stepped foot on Huaxia soil for a mission. No one knew why, and of course, no one dared to ask. It was a fact he had always looked down upon with great disdain.

Is it because of those Ancient Martial Artists of Huaxia? But even if it is, what can they do? Surely they can't be more magnificent than us Ability Users, can they? Please, don't be ridiculous. God is on our side.

That was why he had broken the rules this time to privately take on this job from Huaxia. He had been spending lavishly recently and was quite short on cash. Two hundred million would be enough to fund his lifestyle for a very long time.

…

The next day, as Chen Fei was buying a high-speed train ticket back to Northern Mountain City, Wang Dashan, one of the Five Deputy Instructors of the Flying Leopard special department of the Three Provinces of Lingnan, had already arrived in the office of Dong Wencheng, the Party Secretary of Tongzhou City.

Ever since he successfully became an Innate Expert, his position had naturally risen with him. He had been given an exceptional promotion to 'Director,' making him second only to Chen Fei, the nominal Chief Instructor of Flying Leopard.

"Director Wang, your visit is an honor. Please forgive me for not greeting you at the door," Dong Wencheng said with a smile as he personally brewed a cup of tea for Wang Dashan, handing it to him with both hands.

Unlike his interactions with Chen Fei, this was his first time meeting Wang Dashan. Furthermore, the man was a director-level 'big shot' from a special department like Flying Leopard, possessing an extraordinary background. Thus, even though Dong Wencheng was the Party Secretary of Tongzhou City and one of the provincial committee's heavyweights, he dared not show the slightest negligence.

After all, if one were to assign a formal rank to a director-level position like his, it would be at least equivalent to a provincial governor—a full ministerial level! That was considerably higher than his own current rank.

"Secretary Dong, you're too kind. But as you know, I don't pay visits without a purpose," Wang Dashan said with a smile like that of the Maitreya Buddha, not putting on any particular airs. He had an inkling that this Dong Wencheng had a decent relationship with Chief Instructor Chen, which naturally made him one of their own.

"Director Wang, you're being too polite. Please, tell me what you need," Dong Wencheng replied, his expression turning solemn.

"Alright. This is what Chief Instructor Chen asked me to investigate last night. Secretary Dong, please take a look," Wang Dashan said with a squinting smile, handing a dossier to Dong Wencheng.

"...As expected."

Hearing this, Dong Wencheng's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression growing serious. He had noticed the title Director Wang used… Chief Instructor Chen? He instantly knew who that referred to.

Even though he was mentally prepared, actually hearing the title still filled him with awe. As expected of Chen Fei, Mr. Chen, a man who could personally slay an Innate Expert. To think his status within Flying Leopard was so high.

While these thoughts ran through his mind, he swiftly took the file, pulled out the documents inside, and began to read through them carefully in front of Wang Dashan.

The more he read, however, the more anger he felt, along with an uncontrollable sliver of fear.

It was no wonder. Being in his position, how could he fail to see the foul play involved when Niuniu, despite scoring first on the written civil service exam, was not selected? Yet the information in the documents before him was so detailed that it made even him break out in a cold sweat.

How much time had passed? Barely a single night, yet they had already investigated the entire matter with absolute clarity and thoroughness. How could that not send a chill down the spine of an official like him?

What was even more terrifying was that the file didn't just expose the scheme; it detailed every single person involved, along with a long list of their dirty laundry—infuriating and utterly damning things that were sickening to even read.

The dossier was especially detailed regarding the key figure in the manipulation of the civil service exam: Liu Tianping, the Deputy Director of the Finance Bureau. The text about him alone was densely packed, spanning at least seven or eight lines.

It covered everything from when he first entered officialdom to his various actions over the years, along with all the incriminating evidence against him. It was so exhaustive, not a single detail missing, that cold sweat almost broke out on Dong Wencheng's forehead.

He knew with absolute certainty that if this information got out, Liu Tianping was finished. Not even powerful backers could save him; the dirt was simply too damning.

"Director Wang, may I know what Mr. Chen's intentions are regarding this matter?" he asked after a long silence.

"Very simple," Director Wang replied, his smile widening. Suddenly, his tone turned grave, laced with a chilling coldness. "Wrong no one, but let none go."

Wrong no one, but let none go!

At those words, Dong Wencheng's heart lurched, and he could no longer stop the beads of cold sweat from trickling down his forehead. His expression grew stern as he said, "Very well, Director Wang. Please rest assured, I understand what needs to be done."

"Excellent. In that case, I won't disturb you any longer. I'll take my leave. Oh, right, feel free to contact me if you need anything."

Wang Dashan left a slip of paper with his phone number on it, then stood up and departed.

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