Chapter 367: He’s Here, Who Can Stop Him?

Chapter 367 -197: He’s Here, Who Can Stop Him?

He put down the bamboo skewer, picked up his beer, and took a sip. The cold liquid slid down his throat, making him shiver slightly.

“So we have to take it slow. Wear him down first, soften up his psychological defenses, then pry it open bit by bit. We can’t rush this.”

Zhai Yu was silent for two seconds, then nodded. He looked up and asked, “Shouldn’t we get Ah Ze?”

“Let him focus on recovering.” Zhai Jia shook his head and threw the used skewers into the wastebasket. “We’ll call him in a couple of days. That kid trains like his life depends on it. The wound on his hand has reopened several times, and he won’t listen to me. Let him rest for a couple of days. We shouldn’t pile everything on him.”

Zhai Yu hummed in assent and didn’t object.

The night outside the window grew deeper.

In the distance, the last few houses with lights on turned them off one by one, and the city sank into slumber, bit by bit.

After they finished the grilled skewers, Zhai Jia gathered the bones and skewers and wiped the table with a rag.

The two of them washed their hands. Zhai Jia dug an unopened bottle of baijiu out of a cabinet. He held it up, looked at the label, nodded, and put it in a plastic bag.

“Let’s go,” Zhai Jia said.

Zhai Yu put his jacket back on, zipping it halfway but leaving the bottom unfastened. “What if there really is something up with this guy?”

Carrying the liquor, Zhai Jia walked ahead without looking back. “Then we’ll interrogate him slowly. Until he comes clean.”

Zhai Yu didn’t ask any more questions and followed him.

The voice-activated lights in the hallway flickered on, casting their two shadows on the gray walls.

At the end of the hallway, there was a door.

On the other side of the door, Xiao Yunkai was sitting on the cot. His hands were on his knees, his back was ramrod straight, and his eyes were open, staring at the off-white wall opposite him. His lips were moving slightly, as if he were silently reciting something, but no sound came out.

The footsteps outside the door grew closer.

Xiao Yunkai’s head snapped toward the door.

The footsteps stopped at the door.

Xiao Yunkai took a deep breath.

The door opened.

…

「9:46 PM.」

「Hengjiang Bridge.」

The river fog was thick.

Hengjiang Bridge spanned the narrowest part of the river. Its reinforced concrete structure had been built forty years ago. After so many years of wind and rain, the paint on the railings had long since peeled away. The bridge wasn’t wide—just two lanes, one in each direction, flanked by narrow sidewalks.

The two ends of the bridge connected to two provincial highways, but ever since the new bridge was completed, fewer and fewer people used this route.

During the day, a few cargo trucks would occasionally pass by. At night, the entire bridge was like a forgotten link, lying desolate across the river, at the mercy of the blowing wind.

At this moment, fog was slowly rising from the water’s surface.

It crept over the bridge deck, swallowing the entire structure in a chaotic haze. Visibility was less than thirty meters; you couldn’t see one end of the bridge from the other.

The streetlights were a blurry haze in the fog.

Three cars sped past.

Xiao Ya was in the middle car, in the seat by the left window. She was leaning back slightly against the leather seat in a relaxed posture, one hand resting on the center armrest, the other holding a communicator to her ear.

Her voice was light and soft, with a hint of delicate charm. “…Zhou Nushan wants to work with us. Is he representing the Zhou Family or the Divine Martial Society?”

A man’s voice came from the other end of the communicator. “He said he’s representing the Zhou Family.”

Xiao Ya raised an eyebrow slightly. Her gaze sharpened abruptly, but her tone remained unchanged. “Just the Zhou Family? They don’t have the qualifications. The Zhou Family doesn’t even rank in Jiangnan; they’re second-rate at best. They have no real assets, so on what basis can they cooperate with us? On the basis of their handful of textile factories that are about to go bankrupt?”

She paused and lifted a hand. The nails were neatly trimmed, unpolished, and looked impeccably clean.

“But if it’s the Divine Martial Society… now that would be a little more interesting.”

Xiao Ya tilted her head slightly, her gaze falling on the thick fog outside the car window.

Her own face was reflected in the windowpane.

The person on the communicator said something else. Xiao Ya’s brow furrowed slightly, and she suddenly sounded a bit impatient. “Zhou Nushan’s nephew went missing in the Holy City? As I recall, his nephew is a disciple of Grandmaster Li from the Divine Martial Society. If he’s missing, why don’t they just send their own people to investigate? The Divine Martial Society has just as many people in the Holy City as we do. Why would they need me to do them this favor?”

The person on the other end spoke again, and Xiao Ya’s eyebrows shot up. “So you’re guessing it was Dragon Eagle’s handiwork? Now that’s interesting. Zhou Nushan’s nephew was captured by Dragon Eagle, but the Divine Martial Society doesn’t dare to confront them directly and has to investigate on the sly instead? It seems the Divine Martial Society is truly no match for Dragon Eagle.”

She let out a cold laugh, her contempt undisguised. “I understand the situation. Wait for my word.”

Xiao Ya ended the call and placed the communicator on her lap.

She looked down, swiped her thumb across the screen a few times, and brought up several unread messages. After a quick scan, she locked the screen and clipped the communicator to the armrest.

She raised her head and looked toward the front windshield.

The beams of the headlights struggled to pierce the dense fog. Visibility was getting worse. The driver was leaning forward slightly, hands gripping the steering wheel, his eyes nearly pressed against the windshield.

She reached up and adjusted her shawl, the light gray cashmere wrapping around her shoulders.

Just then.

SCREECH!

The lead car suddenly slammed on its brakes.

The red glare of the brake lights exploded in the thick fog, looking especially harsh.

Xiao Ya’s body was thrown forward. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders as her hands instinctively braced against the back of the front seat. An insulated cup rolled off the armrest, tumbled twice on the floor mat, and came to a stop under the seat.

The rear car also braked hard, its front bumper stopping just inches from the middle car’s.