In the soft pink light, two slender bodies entwined in the most primal movements. Eighty Electronic Book "Umm… use… use… I'm about to soar into the sky… ah…" The woman's voice sounded strange, as though she were speaking with a slight wheeze. Upon receiving the signal, the man redoubled his efforts, lifting his wife to the peak of ecstasy. A few minutes later, with a deep groan from the man, their movements ceased abruptly, leaving only heavy, labored breathing in the room. The woman looked utterly satisfied, tossing her hair aside to reveal her face—she was none other than Cheng Mei, who had been slapped twice by Qin Feng. That explains the wheezing—her three front teeth had fallen out. The man was in his early forties, with a square face and thick lips. "Husband, did you manage to settle that young man?" Cheng Mei asked. The man took several deep breaths before opening his eyes: "Rest assured, my people will handle anything." Cheng Mei clung to him like an octopus, saying, "That young man is quite capable—this morning, he took on twelve bodyguards and bested them all. Those bodyguards were all introduced by you, weren't they? All of them seem like complete failures." "Even if he's strong, can he take a rifle?" the man scoffed, smiling. "To avenge you, I sent five riflemen—Ma Gao personally led the charge. If things go as planned, he's already been reduced to a pile of fragments." Cheng Mei beamed and gave a clap. "That's good! By the way, will you not tell him that I'm the one who wants to kill him?" The man narrowed his eyes. "I'm not new to this game—I should know such basic courtesies, right? Besides, even if I tell him, what then? Will he actually rise from the afterlife and come find you to settle the score?" Cheng Mei nodded in agreement—after all, a dead man could know all the details, but what could he do with them? ... In the southern outskirts of the city, five men with handguns were aiming at Qin Feng, seven others were carrying axes beside him, plus six vehicles. For most people, such a scene would have sent them trembling with fear. Qin Feng, however, maintained a calm, gentle smile. When he was twelve, he had undergone similar training—back then, seven military-style handguns were pointed directly at him. Now, looking at the weapons in these people's hands, most were replicas, produced in small workshops. Their accuracy and firepower were limited; they could handle two shots at close range, but beyond twenty meters, their precision would deteriorate to a point that was truly frustrating. "Looks like you've truly come to take my life," he said calmly. The tall, slender man standing at the periphery, playing with his axe, chuckled. "You're the most composed person I've ever seen. I truly admire you. Don't worry—I'll burn paper money for you by this time next year." "Then keep it for yourself!" As Qin Feng spoke, his body moved as well. At the beginning, the five gunners had agreed in advance: only the two at the front would fire, while the others would serve as a protective screen. After all, their guns were simply too unreliable—having five of them fire simultaneously would inevitably result in mutual casualties. None of them had anticipated the sudden loss of their target. In the very moment they blinked, Qin Feng had already stepped away from his original position, moving diagonally to stand beside the closest gunner. With a swift motion of his right hand, he used the sharp edge of his knife to sever the man’s throat. The gunner only registered a flash of movement before feeling a sudden coolness at his neck, then his consciousness began to fade, and he collapsed. "Fire at him!" the tall, slender one shouted, his voice strained. Thump, thump... The two who reacted quickly pressed the triggers, and flames erupted from their guns, sending bullets whistling through the air. Yet in this situation, they simply didn't have time to aim, and with Qin Feng's movements so swift, even if they did aim, it was all in vain. The bullets fired all missed their targets. Qin Feng slid smoothly to the back of the second gunner and, with a simple stretch and a grasp, wrapped the noose around his neck. Thud... thud... This time, the bullets did hit bodies—though they struck precisely their own companions, leaving the main targets hidden behind untouched. Qin Feng simply snatched the gun from the unfortunate man, didn't need to aim, and fired two shots with a flick of his wrist, then tossed the pistol like a throwing weapon. Two fell instantly, the third was knocked unconscious by the flying pistol. The entire sequence unfolded in the span of a flash—less than three seconds—and within that time, five gunners were either dead or wounded, while Qin Feng remained unharmed. "Kill him!" the tall, slender one charged forward first, raising his axe high. The gun couldn't kill him—let alone this more primitive weapon. Go back and slice the watermelon instead. If you want to slice someone, you're not qualified yet. With hands empty, he disengaged from the white blade, only to be kicked to the ground by a single foot. As he watched, Qin Feng casually pierced the chest of a second man with his sword. He fought again, struck again—six men fell without a single survivor. Just as the slender, tall man managed to lift his upper body off the ground, Qin Feng stepped back and planted a firm foot on his shoulder, bringing his face into close contact with the hard asphalt. "Answer honestly," Qin Feng said, pressing down with force, "if your answers satisfy me, I'll consider sparing your life. Remember, I'm not negotiating. First question—what's your name?" He no longer carried the previous air of confidence. He answered quickly: "My name is Ma Gao." "Who sent you to kill me?" Qin Feng's second question. The bamboo pole was full of dirt, his lips chapped and bleeding steadily, gritting his teeth as he pleaded, "It's Ku brother, Hero—please, let me go. I'm just a common man handling business for a fee; you don't have to kill me." The shift in his demeanor had been too sudden—he had only moments ago been demanding battle or death, now he was begging for mercy. "Ku brother? I've never heard of him. Why would he want to kill me?" Qin Feng asked. "He's avenging the death of Chen Hu from the Tiger Clan," the bamboo pole replied. "You injured dozens of their people yesterday, and Ku brother can't bear that." "Nonsense!" Qin Feng interrupted, driving his blade straight through the bamboo pole's shoulder blade, pinning him firmly to the ground. The bamboo pole screamed like a pig being slaughtered, thinking how ruthless this man was—how could he possibly know he had been lying, and how could he not be given a chance to clarify? Qin Feng picked up another knife, tapped his face, and coldly said, "Qu gave Chen Hu justice. Do you think I'm a three-year-old child? Chen Hu himself is too afraid to come—how could anyone else be foolish enough to step forward on his behalf? You still have one chance. If you lie again, it'll be your last." After all, this morning, it was a leader from the Ministry of Public Security who called the police station. Ma Fatang couldn't hide Chen Hu's involvement in this matter. Even if Chen Hu couldn't bear the indignity, Ma Fatang wouldn't let him get out of hand. Ma Gao quickly replied, "It was Cheng Mei—the woman. In the afternoon, she came to Qu to ask him to have you killed." Qin Feng believed this answer immediately.