Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Zhang Jie chuckled, stubbing out his cigarette hard on the ash-covered table with a soft sizzle, sparks flying as it quickly went out. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Now that he'd achieved his goal, he no longer bothered with pretense, his tone as cold as ice in the dead of winter: "Director Jiang, my brothers are all dead, dead in your so-called 'safety passage'—that abandoned mine tunnel you paid for but didn't reinforce. When it collapsed, they didn't even have a chance to call for help. Tell me, how do you plan to settle this?"

Jiang Hu's heart tightened suddenly, and cold sweat instantly soaked his shirt, but he still tried to remain calm and raised his chin: "I can give you a sum of money, enough for you to live a life of luxury for the rest of your days. I'll also use my connections to find you a way to escape abroad safely, change your name, and start a new life. How about it?"

Zhang Jie chuckled softly, as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. The laughter echoed in the empty warehouse, carrying an indescribable ferocity that sent chills down everyone's spines. "You think it's hard for me to run away? Or do you think I, Zhang Jie, need your little bit of money to get where I am today?" He slowly pulled a gleaming dagger from his pocket. The blade gleamed coldly in the dim light, and he twirled it deftly between his fingers. "I, Zhang Jie, got where I am today not because of money, nor because of my ability to run away, but because of loyalty. Now that my brothers are gone, as their leader, I have to give them an explanation."

Jiang Hu was so frightened by his posture that his back felt like it was going to fall off, and his hands and feet became stiff. He really couldn't figure out what he wanted, so he could only bite the bullet and ask, his voice trembling: "So what do you want? Just say it! Stop playing tricks on me!"

Zhang Jie stopped twirling his dagger, the tip pointing steadily at the ground. His eyes suddenly turned fierce, like a wolf eyeing its prey. He said, word by word, "I need you to do two things for me. First, I need to see He Feng through you and kill him with my own hands. Second, after I kill He Feng, you have to use your connections in the bureau to clear the way for me and let me leave this city safely."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Hu sprang up from the wooden crate like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his legs trembling and his voice distorted: "Are you crazy? Who is He Feng? The director of the Public Security Bureau! He's always surrounded by bodyguards, escorted by police cars, and his defenses are as tight as an iron barrel. How can you kill him? Isn't that like walking into a trap and getting us both caught in it?"

Zhang Jie remained unusually calm, even managing a slight smile, though it was devoid of warmth, his eyes revealing a desperate madness: "You don't need to worry about how to kill him, I'll handle it myself. You just need to tell me whether you agree or not."

Zhang Jie's fingertips unconsciously rubbed the dagger at his waist. He knew perfectly well what was going on—his original smuggling operation spanning three provinces had long since been ruined by a leak at some point, resulting in the police catching him red-handed. The entire shipment had sunk to the bottom, all for nothing. What troubled him even more was the echo of his brothers lying in pools of blood, their dying screams constantly reverberating in his ears, like a thousand-pound boulder pressing down on his heart, making it hard to breathe, even his breath carrying the metallic stench of rust.

Now, only one path remained before him—to kill He Feng. That police chief, with eyes as sharp as an eagle, was the source of all his misfortune. If He Feng hadn't been so relentless, laying a trap, how could he have ended up in this predicament? Perhaps killing him would at least give him an explanation to his superiors, proving that he wasn't just a coward who would run away with his tail between his legs, but still had some backbone. As for whether he would succeed or return alive, he no longer cared. Right now, he only wanted to grasp at this last straw, even if it meant an abyss below.

He knew perfectly well that even if he slunk back now, the mission would fail, most of his brothers would be lost, and there would be only one fate awaiting him—death. He had long since experienced the ruthlessness of those people above him; they only cared about profit and never showed any mercy. His old brothers who had risked their lives with him had all lost their families because of one mistake.

After much deliberation, Zhang Jie stubbed out his cigarette and ground it on the ground, knowing he only had one option left: seek Jiang Hu's help to find He Feng's whereabouts. After all, the entire plan had been ruined by He Feng, and this debt had to be settled with him. If he could kill He Feng, he might be able to atone for his mistakes and secure a sliver of hope from his superiors, even if it was just a prolonged existence.

Zhang Jie wasn't afraid of death; after so many years of navigating the treacherous waters of war, he had long since become indifferent to life and death. What he feared most was the fate of his family. His mother's cough and asthma, his wife's one-year-old baby, all his relatives, young and old, were held hostage by their superiors under the guise of "protection." If he failed his mission, even if he miraculously escaped alive, his family would surely not escape death. The thought of the possible fate facing his wife and children caused him excruciating pain, as if a dull knife were cutting into his heart, making him tremble all over.

So he knew he only had this one chance, and he had to gamble. He would take his remaining brothers, all hardened men who had risked their lives for him, and ambush He Feng on his way home. Even if he lost and died with his men, at least he could prove to his superiors that he had fought, and perhaps even ensure his family's safety, allowing them to live peacefully.

Upon hearing his plan, Jiang Hu turned deathly pale, his face as white as a wet sheet of paper. He waved his hands frantically, took a half-step back, and bumped into a sack in the corner. His voice was trembling with fear: "Are you crazy? He Feng is the director of the Public Security Bureau. How many people protect him? He's always followed by police cars to and from get off work. You only have so few people, not even two guns. How are you going to get close to him? Isn't this just sending yourself to your death? It's no different from walking into a trap!"

Enraged by his words, Zhang Jie flew into a rage, a surge of anger rising within him. He slapped Jiang Hu hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the empty warehouse, making Jiang Hu's head spin, and half his face instantly swelled up. "Are you stupid? Do you think I'm that dumb? To go to the police station and kill someone?" Zhang Jie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes bloodshot like spiderwebs. "He Feng has to go home eventually, right? He can't stay in the station forever! We can ambush him on his way home, find an alley without surveillance cameras, and catch him off guard, right?"

Jiang Hu covered his face, his eyes darting away, unable to look Zhang Jie in the eye. He stammered, "But...but I don't know when He Feng gets off work, or which route he takes home every day. He's a cautious person; I heard his route isn't fixed..."