With the Thunderbirds no longer a threat, Qin's young lord could resume his previous routine. Eight Zero E-book Just as he arrived at Qin Group's headquarters, he headed straight for the top floor, the CEO's office. Standing behind the beautiful CEO, his hands, always sneaky, slipped unconsciously into her blouse. "Ugh! You left me in such a state last night—now you're making a fuss again!" Mei Hui scolded, grabbing his hands that were causing trouble, saying, "This is an office—no misconduct allowed!" Qin Feng chuckled, "Actually, our very first misdeed happened right here—in my office. How about we go back and relive that moment?" "Ugh!" the beautiful CEO gave him a withering look, her breath growing soft and delicate under the persistent magic of his hands. "I'm still busy—don't... oh... well, if you insist, you can do whatever you like all night. I'll listen to you completely!" Mei Hui is a girl with traditional thinking. Every time Qin Dashi asks her to try a new pose, she always refuses, leaving Qin deeply disappointed. Hearing this, he brightened up and smiled, saying, "That's what you said—no going back on it." At that moment, his phone rang—it was He Muqing, the beautiful executive, who gave him a specific location and urged him to head there immediately. After bidding farewell to the beautiful CEO, he playfully teased his assistant before giving a sly smile and leaving the building. His destination was a high-end hotel in the city center. On the way, he kept speculating—could it be that He Muqing also wanted to take the initiative and offer to share a room with him? Indeed, that seems very likely! Qin Dashi, though not the most accomplished, is still the formidable Feng Mo, renowned throughout the assassin world. He has personally completed three SSS-level assignments—something many of his peers, despite their fame, manage to achieve only once in a lifetime, let alone three. In the world of assassins, SSS-level missions are considered impossible—completing one can instantly establish a legend. The security protocol for the U.S. Secretary of State ranks just below that of the President, the UK's MI6 head is protected by dozens of special agents, and the underboss of the Mafia has more bodyguards than a full regiment. Yet, in the end, all three still fell victim to Feng Mo's deadly precision. Feng Mo's name has long since become a legend within the assassin community. Therefore, Qin Feng had no doubt that he possessed something special that could attract He Muqing. It was only natural, then, that He, the elegant woman, would proactively extend an invitation to share a room. As he reflected on these points, Qin, the young noble, couldn't help but smile—his signature, slightly condescending, smug expression. But wait—such a grand gesture for a simple room reservation? Not only were police officers on duty at the entrance, but a perimeter barrier had also been erected. After parking, he still found it odd. Wasn't He, after all, known for her high-profile, flamboyant style? With suspicion, he was personally escorted to the elevator and directly taken to the 18th floor. Police officers were bustling back and forth down the corridor, their expressions serious—only then did Qin, the young magnate, realize: they must have a homicide on their hands. In a luxurious suite, the beautiful woman in white rubber gloves turned to greet Qin Feng upon his arrival: "Come take a look." Qin, shoulders slightly raised, expressed his irritation as he walked over, muttering, "I thought you were investigating—what did I come for? Didn't you forget that my specialty is killing people, not gathering evidence? We're practically opposites!" He was absolutely right—killers excel at killing and at leaving minimal traces for the police, making little connection with the investigative work. The woman turned to him, giving him a withering look: "This case actually involves you. First, let's examine the cause of death." "Qin Feng looked utterly dismissive, still unable to determine the cause of death after all this time—what a feat for the police. The deceased was a middle-aged man, around forty, with a pale complexion, frost-like deposits on his eyebrows and hair. There were no obvious wounds on his body, and his clothing was neat. The room showed clear signs of violent struggle. Could it have been asphyxiation? Not at all—someone who died of asphyxiation should have had their mouth open, with the tongue protruding. Could it have been poisoning? Even less likely—poisoned victims typically have darkened skin, not pale. Could it have been a heart attack? If so, why would He Muqing have gathered a team and made such a big deal out of it? Noticing his frown, the young woman explained, "The server heard the commotion outside and then discovered the body. He's certain it was a homicide." Qin Feng knelt down, took the gloves offered by the young woman, put them on, then gently felt the deceased's neck before pressing his two fingers at the upper and lower points, and lightly separated them. A deep, bone-seeing wound appeared instantly, and as soon as the wound came into contact with the air, it began to curl and flip outward. Most astonishingly, despite the depth of the wound, no blood flowed at all throughout the entire process. The trachea, blood vessels, esophagus—clearly visible—finally revealing a white cervical vertebra. The person's head was nearly severed, yet the wound miraculously remained adhered, with not a single drop of blood. That's why no cause of death could be determined. He Mù Qíng stared in wide-eyed astonishment. Though not a criminal investigator, she frequently encountered homicide scenes in her daily work—she had never seen anything like this, nor had she heard of such a method of killing. Qin Feng explained, "At the moment of death, the wound was so cold that the blood inside the blood vessels froze into ice, thus no blood flowed out. Due to the low temperature, the wound edges adhered together, making it impossible to distinguish the actual location of the injury." A wave of gasps rose up, with seasoned police officers, well-versed in various cases, never having witnessed such a method of murder before. Removed his gloves, he asked He Muqing, "You said this case has something to do with me—what exactly is the connection? Don't you doubt that this man was killed by me? Just be clear: I don't have the skill to do such a thing." He Muqing shook her head and said, "I'm not saying your death is connected to his. Rather, it's his identity that's tied to you. I won't hold back—this man goes by the nickname 'White Wolf,' one of the Four Pillars of Shengmen, and he's a close friend of Bodhisattva Dragon. His appearance in Pingmu City wasn't accidental." Dragon had died, so the White Wolf must have come to avenge him. But who actually killed the White Wolf? A rival? That seemed unlikely—had it been a rivalry, the White Wolf would have been dead long ago, and how could he have died in Pingmu City at all? Qin Feng simply couldn't make sense of it—was this mere coincidence, or was there someone quietly working behind the scenes? He Muqing also removed her gloves and asked in a low voice, "Who has such a precise method of killing? With your broad experience, do you know "Qin Dashi shook his head. "I may not know whether other assassin organizations have such individuals, but I can certainly say that no one on Death Island does. I'm wondering what kind of blade it must be—sharp enough to cut through veins, and cold enough to freeze blood, even surpassing my own Huo Yun in excellence."