Chapter 371: Information Gap Has Strategic Value

Wan Ze tilted his head and, for once, spoke.

“He’s a real man.”

There was no condescension in his tone, just a flat, objective assessment.

Zhang Chong’s face was covered in blood. He stared daggers at Wan Ze and let out a beast-like roar from deep in his chest, “Don’t touch her!”

Just then, the car door was pushed open from the inside.

The door swung outward with a soft CLICK, opening slowly.

Xiao Ya got out of the car.

Her movements were elegant. Her left foot emerged first. The hem of her moon-white qipao was lifted by the river wind, revealing a slender ankle and a pair of black high heels.

Then she emerged from the car, stood up straight, and readjusted her shawl.

She looked much younger than Wan Ze had imagined.

In her photo, she looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but in person, she seemed even younger, perhaps only twenty-three or twenty-five.

Her figure was slender. Standing in the dense fog, with the river wind blowing her hair and shawl, she had an air of simple, refined elegance, as if untouched by the dust of the mortal world.

A light gray cashmere shawl was draped over her shoulders, one end hanging in front of her chest and the other behind her back, fluttering gently in the wind.

Xiao Ya’s face wasn’t the kind of stunning beauty that dazzles you at first sight, but rather a kind of beauty that grows on you.

Her eyes held a deep calm that belied her delicate appearance—a composure that couldn’t be faked, but was born from weathering many storms.

Xiao Ya glanced at the injured Zhang Chong.

Her gaze lingered on the bloody gashes on his face for a second, then on his twisted leg for half a second before she looked away, her eyes finally landing on Wan Ze’s face.

There was no trace of fear on her exquisite face.

The cold wind blew her hair, and a few strands drifted across her face. She didn’t brush them away, simply letting them flutter against her skin.

Staring at the masked man before her, she asked, “Old Zhao sent you, didn’t he?”

It was as if she’d known all along.

Wan Ze looked up at her.

“In that case… the fire at the wharf warehouse should be burning by now,” Xiao Ya murmured, as if talking to herself, yet also to Wan Ze.

She looked toward the other end of the bridge, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. It was hard to tell if it was a smile or some other expression.

Then she brought her gaze back to Wan Ze. Her eyes were captivating—not intentionally, but naturally so.

This was a very confident woman.

“Did Old Zhao tell you that he would handle the warehouse, and you would handle things on the Hengjiang River?”

Before Wan Ze could answer, Xiao Ya continued with a self-mocking laugh, “Well, did he also tell you that the warehouse at the wharf was transferred to his little mistress a month ago? So tonight, he’s just burning his own goods.”

Wan Ze remained unmoved.

His expression didn’t change as he stepped forward, each stride closing the distance between him and Xiao Ya.

His left hand, hanging naturally at his side, opened slightly.

He was preparing to twist this woman’s head off.

Xiao Ya watched Wan Ze approach, the distance shrinking from five meters to four, then from four to three. Her eyelashes trembled slightly, but she didn’t retreat, nor did she show any sign of preparing to back away.

She spoke again, her voice a little colder than before. “That Zhao has quite a scheme. Burning his own warehouse to frame me. At the same time, arranging for someone to kill me on the Hengjiang River. When the higher-ups investigate, they’ll just assume he and I were both attacked in the Holy City. It’s all perfectly logical and plausible. Then Zhao Henian will be the victim, and Xiao Ya will also be the victim. The only difference is that I’ll be dead, and he’ll still be alive.”

At that moment, Zhang Chong charged again.

His left leg was almost useless, so he could only hop forward on his right. His speed was much slower than before, but he still swung his fist toward Wan Ze’s back.

Wan Ze didn’t even turn around.

He reached back with his right hand, fingers splayed, and clamped down on Zhang Chong’s wrist with the precision of an iron pincer.

Zhang Chong’s fist stopped less than ten centimeters from Wan Ze’s back, unable to advance another millimeter.

Wan Ze’s fingers dug into Zhang Chong’s wrist joint. His thumb pressed on the base of the palm while his index and middle fingers locked between the radius and ulna—precisely over the pulse gate.

In that instant, Zhang Chong’s entire right arm lost its Power, as if someone had unplugged it.

His fingers uncurled from a fist, his hand hanging limply. The grip threw off his center of gravity, causing him to stumble forward.

Wan Ze’s thumb pressed against the base of Zhang Chong’s palm, his other four fingers tightening around the man’s wrist, as he prepared to break his neck.

Just then…

“Wait!”

A hint of panic finally entered Xiao Ya’s voice.

“You might not understand the game being played here,” Xiao Ya said hurriedly. “That Zhao wants you here so you can be his scapegoat! You don’t have to believe me, but don’t underestimate my intelligence network!”

Wan Ze kept his grip on Zhang Chong’s neck, tilting his head to look at Xiao Ya.

His hand didn’t loosen, but he didn’t apply any more pressure.

With his throat in Wan Ze’s grasp, Zhang Chong’s face was turning blue. His mouth was wide open, but he couldn’t make a sound.

Wan Ze wore a mask, but his eyes were sharp.

He watched Xiao Ya, saying nothing.

In that moment, the only sounds were the river wind, the water lapping against the bridge’s piers, and the dying gasps from Zhang Chong’s throat.

Finally, Wan Ze spoke. “You know a lot.”

Xiao Ya took a deep breath, forcing her breathing to steady. Her chest rose and fell once, then settled. “And I know much more.”

She looked into Wan Ze’s eyes and spoke in a rapid-fire burst, as if afraid she would lose her chance if she spoke too slowly. “Zhao Henian has been getting very close to people from Dragon Eagle recently… Besides me, no one on the outside knows about this. I also know that the Dragon Eagle disciple he’s in contact with has the surname Wan. I hear he’s an excellent fighter, and that Zhao Henian paid a deposit of two million just to hire him.”

Wan Ze’s heart skipped a beat. It all clicked into place.

‘That idiot Old Zhao!’

‘She’s figured out everything!’

‘He, Zhao Henian, the dignified head of a Secret Palace, is this careless with his affairs?’

‘She even knows the exact amount of the two-million deposit.’

‘How am I supposed to work with him after this?’

‘He’s going to get me sold out any minute now.’

“Don’t be in a hurry to deny it,” Xiao Ya said in a low voice. Her gaze swept over the surrounding darkness before returning to him. She lowered her voice even further. “If you really are from Dragon Eagle, this will be much easier.”

Wan Ze looked at her.

His mind was racing.

Xiao Ya knew Zhao Henian’s plan, knew he’d been in contact with Dragon Eagle, and even knew that a “Wan Ze” existed.

But he was wearing a mask, and she hadn’t connected him to the name “Wan Ze.” She seemed to have mistaken him for some other Martial Artist sent by the Dragon Eagle Sect.

This was an information gap.

In his mind, Wan Ze quickly calculated the value of this information gap.