Qin Feng’s 180-degree about-face left several trusted associates at a loss. Originally, Qin Feng had already planned to cause trouble for Shu Yajing. During the climb upstairs, he answered a phone call—his broad, jowly face immediately bloomed into a smile like a peach blossom. Especially when he met Qin Feng, his politeness was overwhelming; he constantly used the word “misunderstanding,” and it seemed likely that he had never been so courteous to his own father in all his life. Not only that, but at the end of the day, Qin Feng received a hero’s treatment—he was escorted out of the police station with great dignity and confidence. Fang Fang didn’t know what had happened—beyond being astonished, she remained amazed. Holding the thermos full of breakfast, she frowned: “Qin Feng, how did that fat man treat you so warmly?” “Ah-hah,” Qin Feng said, not intending to reveal the truth, for fear she might worry unnecessarily. The person on the phone was Wei Qingshi—the Chairman of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army, a figure renowned as one of the most powerful individuals beneath the president and above all others. The Isle of Death had received an order just one month ago—to carry out the assassination of Wei Qingshi—rewarded at six million euros, with the task to be completed within three months. This mission fell squarely on Qin Feng’s shoulders. Since the Isle of Death no longer exists, the mission has now dissolved as well. No wall is impervious to wind and pressure. Given the Chinese special operations staff’s sharp intelligence and competence, they quickly discovered the assassination assignment. But what could they do? The U.S. FBI is formidable; the CIA too—isn’t their Secretary of State already eliminated by Qin Feng? The British MI6 has a strong reputation—wasn’t their chief director likewise killed by Qin Feng? Italy’s powerful Mafia leader ranked fifth among the world's ten most dangerous figures, with over five hundred people assigned to protect him daily—yet he still fell victim to Qin Feng’s blade. Thus, Wei Qingshi was genuinely shaken—ever since then, plagued by nightmares each night. He didn’t doubt the capabilities of his three predecessors in terms of security; yet they all perished despite what seemed impermeable safeguards. Wei Qingshi certainly wouldn’t believe that his luck surpassed theirs. The Isle of Death had always been a mysterious entity—and according to records, no mission assigned to it had ever failed. Qin Feng certainly didn’t intend to reveal his own identity—instead, he simply said the news came from a friend on the route. As for that friend’s identity—you want to know? Regretfully, all details remain confidential. In return, Qin Feng made one request: he would be granted freedom from further charges of assaulting ordinary workers. For Wei Qingshi, this condition was truly nothing—just one phone call to the Ministry of Public Security, and the minister could personally issue an order—how could anyone refuse? Fang Fang shook her thermos in her hands: “Then what shall we do now?” Qin Feng smiled brightly: “Why, aren’t you going to work today?” “I’ve already taken leave early this morning—my mother scolded me quite thoroughly for it.” Fang Fang murmured with a little sigh. What could be more difficult than fulfilling a beloved person’s kindness? Holding the thermos carefully in her arms, Qin Feng smiled: “Then let’s find somewhere to sit—we should surely taste the breakfast prepared by our beautiful lady—the flavor must be excellent.” Fang Fang’s eyes flickered with slight anxiety: “How do you know it was actually my handiwork?” Qin Feng’s keen observation skills were nothing short of essential for a killer—ever attentive, he noticed how carefully she had been holding the thermos. If this weren’t his own effort, why would she be so particular? Fang Fang lowered her head even further—almost pressing it against Qin Feng’s high chest—her face flushed to the point of dripping with warmth; an intimate atmosphere began to spread. Nurturing delicate women was one of Qin Feng’s greatest joys. Drip… drip… The sound of a car horn interrupted the growing intimacy—he looked up in frustration, thinking: Who is it? So uncivilized—didn’t see me getting ready to court someone! How could this ruin my moment! A long Lincoln sedan stood several meters away, its driver’s head protruding from the window—Hou Bao waved at him with a cheerful call: “Qin Feng, come on board.” “Call me?” Qin Feng pointed at his own nose and then waggled the thermos in his hand. “I’d like to eat first.” “You can eat while you’re here—the back seat is spacious,” Hou Bao said, his eyes red-rimmed—clearly having stayed up all night. Wasn’t it just a DNA test? Wasn’t that all it took for him to personally supervise? “All right!” Qin Feng stepped forward; noticing Fang Fang still standing in place, he turned and said: “Come on, why are you still standing there?” “Oh!” Fang Fang immediately brightened and followed. Hou Bao sighed helplessly—thinking how perfect a young woman she was, so pure-hearted—only to be about to be trampled by the very pig who had just arrived. Once inside the car, Qin Feng didn’t hesitate to offer any courtesy—he opened the thermos and began eating with gusto; though it contained only porridge and side dishes, the flavor was truly outstanding. Hou Bao looked down at his own belly, then said: “The results are in—you’re indeed Wei Wei’s son. Fifteen years ago—how come you only just returned now? If you’d arrived half a year earlier, perhaps Wei Wei wouldn’t have….” By this time, Hou Bao had been moved to tears. Qin Feng thought, half a year earlier? That was more than ambitious—today’s arrival wasn't even one day ahead of schedule. “Are you absolutely certain I’m not posing as someone else?” Qin Feng asked. Hou Bao nodded confidently: “I didn’t just compare your DNA with Wei Wei’s—I also matched yours against Wu Shan’s—the similarity is 99.9%, and it’s impossible to be mistaken.” This made Qin Feng genuinely surprised—Hou Bao’s efficiency was truly impressive, having completed the comparison among three individuals in just one night. After setting down the thermos and receiving a napkin from Fang Fang, he wiped his lips and asked: “How did my parents die? And what role do you play?” Fourteen years ago, Hou Bao had collapsed on the roadside—saved by Wei Wei during his morning exercise—and since then had remained with the Qin family to assist in managing their business. At that time, Wei Wei was just beginning to establish his foundation—the full development of the Qin Group under his leadership had been witnessed firsthand by Hou Bao. Wu Shan passed away before Qin Feng’s arrival—according to Wei Wei’s account, she suffered from profound grief over losing her child and gradually declined in health until she died. As for Wei Wei himself—he succumbed due to overwhelming work pressure and frequent social engagements that steadily eroded his physical strength, ultimately leading to an irreversible decline and departure. After listening to Hou Bao’s explanation, Qin Feng calmly asked: “So what are we doing now?” His tone was so composed—because he sensed a subtle reservation in Hou Bao’s expression. Perhaps it was due to Fang Fang’s presence as an outsider, preventing full openness—or perhaps he deliberately held something back. Hou Bao smiled with quiet sadness: “Let’s visit your father’s second wife, Cheng Mei. And also meet your half-brother, Qin Yu. Xiao Feng—you’ll have to face reality—Cheng Mei has been married to your father for fourteen years now.” There was one thing Hou Bao hadn’t explicitly stated—that without your arrival, Cheng Mei and Qin Yu would have been the legitimate heirs of the Qin Group.