For the pendant's situation, Qin Feng only knew that it had been taken from the instructor at the Isle of Death—beyond that, he knew nothing else. The "instructor" was the esteemed title of the beautiful lady officer Isabel at the Isle of Death. No one knew her exact age; it was said she had held the position of officer since twenty years ago, and yet her appearance has remained unchanged, as youthful as ever. When Qin Feng was fourteen, he successfully kissed Isabel—this became a classic moment, because no man before him had ever managed to gain her favor. The shark-tooth pendant was simply pulled from her neck during that kiss. As a result, the person known as Qin Daxiao endured tremendous hardship: not only did he face relentless pursuit by the instructor every day, but he also carried three times the training workload of others. Given the current state of affairs, this was clearly no ordinary shark-tooth pendant. Shark-teeth are not uncommon, but something that can "draw blood" and change color—this was the first time Qin Feng had ever seen such a phenomenon. Moreover, he sensed that the pendant itself might still be capable of further transformation. He removed a sharp blade from his belt—one might think he had become an ordinary man now—but he still maintained his old habits, keeping at least ten deadly weapons concealed within him. Using the blade, he cut a small wound on his index finger, and blood immediately began to flow. He then dripped the droplets of blood onto the crescent-shaped pendant; the crimson blood emitted a faint white vapor before vanishing completely. With each successive drop, the pendant's color deepened—first from its original golden hue into a purple-gold, then into rich purple-red, followed by deep red and finally black-red. Eventually, it transformed entirely to pure black, glowing with an eerie luster like a black pearl. Whoosh… A beam of light shot directly into Qin Feng's finger; before he could react, he lost all sense of consciousness and slumped over onto the desk. The crescent pendant continued radiating light, gradually penetrating his body as though weaving itself into him. Time passed—one hour, then another—each minute passing. The pendant’s color slowly faded: from deep gray to medium gray to pale gray, until it returned to its original off-white hue. This entire process lasted four hours. When the pendant had fully restored itself, morning light was beginning to filter through the sky outside. A few moments later, Qin Feng awoke slowly and drowsily. "What's going on?" His first action upon opening his eyes was to grasp the pendant. Now it appeared completely unchanged from before—both in appearance and condition, even the cord showing no trace of wear. Just as he began to wonder what had happened, suddenly a deep voice resonated inside his ears: "Young man, since you have now received my teachings, you are now my disciple. You must carry forward and expand my legacy. Your master is Lingxuan Dao-ren; our sect is known as Tongxuan Sect—remember to locate our sacred relic, the Zhun Tian Seal, and restore the prestige of our order. The method of cultivation has already been inscribed within your mind. Remember: the path of the Way is boundless; diligence can overcome any deficiency." Qin Feng is a firm materialist—he never believes in gods or spirits. "Must be a hallucination," he told himself. "Probably due to the change of environment, combined with the devastating news of his parents’ deaths." Just as he was about to convince himself that this explanation held true, a sudden sound—like a swift burst—arose inside his mind, and a scroll materialized, densely inscribed with classical Chinese characters in elegant calligraphy. Qin Feng’s mother had always required him to memorize ancient texts such as the *Lunyu* and *Xisheng*, even when he was just three years old; each time, he found it tedious and repetitive. Later on, such opportunities vanished entirely—so much so that he dreamed of returning to those days again and again, for a total span of fifteen years. With his established foundation in classical Chinese literature, deciphering the dense script on the scroll was no difficulty at all. As he read further, he unconsciously shifted from his chair and sat cross-legged on the floor, hands folded over his thighs with palms facing upward, fingers pointing toward heaven—the posture required by the text. The air within the room began to circulate around him as a center point, forming an intangible spiral above his head—somewhat resembling the satellite cloud images often featured in weather forecasts. A gentle flow of energy started circulating through his body, warming each area it passed through with a comfortable warmth. He vaguely remembered that this current seemed to originate from his lower abdomen, flowing along a special pathway up through his neck and chest, across his limbs, before returning once more to the same abdominal region. The scroll described this process as "cultivating energy," during which the person enters a state of clarity and emptiness, enhancing the sensitivity of all six senses—awareness, perception, hearing, touch, taste, and thought. The Old Third Street Police Department is composed of one main building and numerous rooms; he could clearly sense what was happening inside each room. He even noticed the exact posture and breathing rhythm of officers sleeping in the control room and duty rooms. A police vehicle had pulled up in front of the courtyard. A well-built middle-aged man stepped out, wiping sweat from his brow while speaking on the phone: "Mr. Long, don’t worry—I guarantee that what happened last night won’t repeat itself. You have to believe me—give me one more chance." The voice coming through the speaker was deep and calm: "Ma Fat, remember this: opportunities are always reserved for those who are prepared. This time I’ll give you a favor; if things don't go well, expect a follow-up session, ring-ring-ring…" Ma Fat swallowed nervously, wiped off the cold sweat from his forehead, and quickly hurried into the main office building. As soon as he entered the office, he summoned several close associates, briefly asked about what transpired last night, then immediately announced: "We need to formally designate the suspect—accuse him of intentional harm—and press for a strict judicial ruling. We'll send that young man directly to jail right away; make sure they treat him well—ideally, push him until he commits suicide; if that fails, take more decisive action—make certain it's clean and traceable." One of his associates nodded: "Rest assured—we've handled this type of situation before. There will be no leverage for the party to hold against us." Another associate hesitated slightly: "Director, last night the representatives from Qin Group arrived. What if they intervene?" Ma Fat's expression hardened: "Then we must act ahead of them—resolve the issue before they arrive. Once someone dies, that’s final—what will they have left to say or do?" "What about Captain Shu? What if she becomes overly involved? That might be difficult for us." Ma Fat spoke with condescension: "She’s merely a dull woman. If she truly acts so unnecessarily, even if there's someone above her, she’ll end up taking the fall. You needn’t worry—just do your job well, and I'll bear any responsibility." "Understood!" In Qin Feng’s heightened state of six-sense awareness, he clearly heard every word exchanged among them—and realized that things were indeed becoming complicated. He had originally assumed that with the involvement of Qin Group personnel, he would remain neutral; now it seemed clear—his colleagues were entirely determined to eliminate both Hou Bao and Mei Hui. What could he do? He might as well escape. After all, even if he became a fugitive from the Chinese Republic, previously when he worked as a killer, he had been pursued by twenty-four countries in Europe and North America—listed among the top ten most dangerous individuals, even surpassing the leadership of the Mafia. In fact, it was precisely his hand that had ended the lives of several high-ranking Mafia bosses. Just as he was about to decide upon action and prepare to act, a crisp sound of stiletto heels approached—the footsteps growing steadily clearer from afar. It must be Officer Shu Yajing. With just one glance, Qin Feng immediately devised a new strategy.