Jiangning outskirts, river bend, houseboat.

"Shoot."

"Let him go!"

"Shoot!"

"You'll die horribly!"

"Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?"

"Erlang! Mother—"

"..."

"What have you done!"

"Back off."

In the dim houseboat corridor, no lamps. Faint firelight from the kitchen and oil lamp glow from the living room seeped from both ends, creating a suffocating standoff. Giant man, crossbow, sharp knife, blood, a hostage barely breathing, water flowing beneath their feet. The giant held his crossbow, roaring, his violent aura completely unleashed. By comparison, the figure several meters away seemed disproportionate, but that hand just quietly held the sharp knife against the throat.

As the giant's furious threats came across, the response came back just as directly. Not intense, not flippant—brief, quiet, and steady, like a pillar fixed in rushing water. Sometimes it seemed the current would overwhelm and sweep it away, but the next moment water sprayed open and it remained unchanged. Almost the instant each of the giant's words fell, the response came immediately, without hesitation or delay. For a moment, it actually pressed back the giant's furious momentum.

The figure took a deep breath, gritting his teeth, word by word: "What did you... do to them."

"Guess."

"What happened—"

The roar was deafening, but the response came under the sound wave, quiet and quick: "If you like, guess again."

The giant's jaw trembled as he stared at the figure, as if to devour him alive with his eyes. Then he took a deep breath and finally stepped back.

"I misjudged..."

"That's good." The only way out was through the living room. Ning Yi watched the step, answered coldly, and pushed the swaying hostage forward. The other man slowly retreated another step...

"If they're okay, we can talk."

"Fine."

"As long as they're not dead."

"Fine."

"...Otherwise I swear I'll kill your whole family!"

"Fine."

"I'll skin you alive, make you die horribly!"

"Fine."

"Ning Yi! Ning Liheng!"

Just a few steps, a few exchanges, casual and perfunctory responses. The giant had reached the living room doorway, lamplight illuminating his side. With the shout, his expression twisted as if convulsing, clearly enraged by such answers. Normally, scholars on the road would go weak just encountering him.

Behind the hostage, the scholar who'd been cautiously showing only one eye now tilted his head, both eyes looking over coldly. But moments later, he realized the man wasn't reacting to the shouted name. Those eyes watched him, then said word by word: "...Keep backing up, keep talking, don't. Stop."

Yang Yi slowly turned, retreating past the threshold between living room and corridor.

The tiny lamp flame flickered in the living room, casting his huge shadow toward the door. Right beside the door, Yang Heng hid with steel blade in hand, exchanging a glance with the still-retreating Yang Yi. From the first words, he hadn't charged into the inner corridor but positioned himself by the door ready to respond. In the corridor, Ning Yi watched the shadow's movement, still pushing the hostage forward. Now neither could see the other.

"Who sent you?"

"The trade! Has! Its! Rules!"

Yang Yi backed up holding the crossbow, kicking over a stool.

"You definitely can't escape!"

"Mm."

"This is outside the city, no one will save you!"

"Oh."

"Leave this room, you still die!"

"Fine."

"I admit I misjudged, but you're just a scholar, you'll be afraid! One wrong step... you're dead!"

Ning Yi's figure appeared at the doorway, watching him coldly, turning the hostage in a different direction. Yang Yi shook his head.

"I, Yang Yi, can accept defeat! As long as you leave the Yang family a descendant, everything's negotiable."

The lamplight was dim, the room seeming darker from the confrontation's atmosphere. Yang Heng pressed against the wall by the door, blade ready, eyes alert. Beside him, Ning Yi was about to push the hostage in, knife still pressed, quietly watching that knife-holding hand.

At the far table, Yang Yi's expression softened slightly: "I, Yang Yi, keep my word."

Footsteps entered, a slightly changed tone suddenly sounded: "How do we talk?"

In that instant, the confrontation's atmosphere seemed to drop to its lowest. By the wall, Yang Heng's left hand fingers moved slightly, starting to raise. In the next moment, a roar suddenly erupted.

"Watch out—"

"Careful—"

The slightly lowered atmosphere shot to its peak in an instant. This was the first time the scholar named Ning Yi shouted. Lamp shadows swayed, figures moved, wind howled. A dark shape swung toward Yang Heng. Yang Heng raised his blade to slash up, the grass rope snapping in mid-air.

The clay jar spun through the air, closing on Yang Heng. He instinctively raised his elbow.

BOOM—

"AAAAHHHHH—"

"Fuck—"

"Shoot—"

"I'll kill you—"

"You're dead you're dead!"

"Pull the trigger pull the trigger pull the trigger—"

In the dim lamplight and shadows, clay shards exploded through the darkness. Boiling oil splashed toward Yang Heng's upper body. Instantly, screams mixed with sizzling sounds. Yang Yi immediately raised his crossbow, roaring without any relaxation, about to charge over. Ning Yi pushed the hostage rushing into the room in a few steps, then pulled him retreating to a corner.

All three voices in the room mixed together. Yang Heng's elbow and upper body blocked much of the oil, not hitting his head directly, but one eye area was still affected. It was summer—he wore only a single layer. Now half his body was drenched in hot oil. Screaming, he split a nearby stool with his blade, still able to curse fiercely. Blisters rose on his face and body, grotesque as a monster! Looking ready to pounce any moment, while Yang Yi forcefully shook his head.

"I don't believe you'll release him now—"

"He won't dare kill Dalang! He won't dare kill Dalang!"

"Come on, try it, why don't you pull the trigger!"

"I won't let you leave."

"Kill him!"

"Come on, no matter what happens to me, if anything goes wrong this knife will cut his throat first..."

"You won't walk out that door today!"

"Block the door!"

"His windpipe will tear open, blood gushing from his throat, mostly foam. Your son will certainly feel pain, then discover he can't breathe..."

"He dies, you die..."

"I'll chop off your hand—"

"Know what it feels like when you can't breathe? Imagine it imagine it, like a fish out of water. His whole body will convulse, limbs flailing. His throat already cut open, maybe he'll claw at it with his hands, then more blood on his hands and body, more blood more blood, until he feels nothing. You can watch this process while drinking a cup of tea! Come on!"

"You'll die worse than him!"

"But he's your son!"

The three in the room formed three points of confrontation, occasionally moving while maintaining distance. Everyone spoke extremely fast. Yang Yi held his crossbow blocking the door, seeming resolute. The crossbow swayed trying to aim at Ning Yi's vitals. The grotesque Yang Heng was explosively fierce. Ning Yi spoke quietly and rapidly, watching the two giants in the room. Amidst the shouting Yang Heng even made to pounce—Ning Yi adjusted slightly and he retreated again.

"I won't negotiate anymore, you won't release my son!"

"He absolutely won't dare!"

"You move, I move!"

"Nobody leaves today."

"See who lasts longer, me or your son..."

"AAAHH—"

Yang Heng suddenly roared, swinging his blade as if to charge. Ning Yi's left hand behind his back whipped out something, sparks dancing in the room: "Come on!" It was a fire stick from the kitchen. Yang Heng's face twisted, stopping his advance, shouting: "Throw it!"

"Of course I'll throw it."

"Then throw it over!"

"Come if you dare..."

Yang Heng charged a step. Ning Yi waved his hand. He suddenly stopped and retreated, but the fire stick didn't actually fly out. This repeated several times. The iron tower of a man seemed to have thrown caution away, constantly trying to approach Ning Yi. He was certain that until the last moment Ning Yi wouldn't dare kill the hostage, creating chaos and openings. Ning Yi held the knife with his right hand controlling the hostage while also shifting position. Not far away Yang Yi held the crossbow alertly. At one moment, Yang Heng and Yang Yi exchanged a glance. Yang Heng suddenly pounced.

The room was already tense to the extreme, all three with taut nerves. Ning Yi waved his hand, Yang Heng shifted again. Then another shout—Yang Heng and Yang Yi's positions crossed. The fire stick left his hand, flying toward Yang Heng.

Yang Yi moved faster, kicking a stool. The fire stick was knocked away. Yang Heng charged without reservation. Ning Yi reached back, grabbing for the oil lamp on the side pillar. Next moment, the lamp didn't move—it was nailed to the pillar. Yang Heng closed in! Reaching for the knife at his nephew's throat. Yang Yi kicked away blocking stools while also closing in!

Ning Yi's left hand plunged into the oil lamp, coming out wrapped in kerosene spray.

The room darkened for an instant. Yang Heng's left hand boldly grabbed the sharp knife, pulling it away. Next moment, the darkened flame lit between Ning Yi and Yang Heng.

BOOM—

Flames surged and bloomed! Spreading in two directions!

In that instant, Ning Yi used the wick and kerosene to ignite the other's body while simultaneously igniting his own left hand.

In the exploding flames, amid Yang Heng's screams, his hand still pulled the knife from his nephew's throat. Ning Yi yanked the knife hard, blood spraying in the firelight. On the other side, Yang Yi closed in, extending the crossbow toward him. Ning Yi released the hostage, lunging sideways, swinging the knife straight at Yang Heng's head.

"AAAAHHHHH..."

"YAAAHH—"

"AHH—"

The crossbow bolt flew past Ning Yi's back. Yang Heng's flaming screams, Yang Yi's shouts, Ning Yi's fierce knife swing all sounded together. Figures crossed in this moment, flames raging wildly. Yang Yi seized the chance, grabbing his son's shoulder to push him aside. Trying to grab Ning Yi, he grasped air. Ning Yi had charged toward Yang Heng swinging the knife, but now followed his son rushing out. He couldn't react in time. Watching flames rise on his brother's body with a knife deeply embedded in his head, when he chased after Ning Yi and his son, he suddenly discovered they were connected by a rope.

The blood-covered scholar practically pushed his son to the other side of the room, then spun around. His right hand drew an iron spike from behind, pressing it again to his son's throat, eyes looking this way.

Yang Heng retreated several steps, collapsing in flames with a crash. The fire wasn't the fatal wound—if he'd rushed out and jumped in the river it wouldn't have been fatal. But Ning Yi's relentless chop to his head while he panicked was definitely fatal.

Everyone was calculating. Earlier when the Yang brothers showed an opening, leading Ning Yi to throw the fire stick—if Ning Yi hadn't walked to the oil lamp then, he probably wouldn't have thrown it so easily. This room belonged to the Yang brothers after all. They knew the lamp was fixed; the scholar definitely didn't. Yang Heng risked himself to break the deadlock during that moment's hesitation. Who knew the scholar's instant reaction could be so vicious, directly igniting his own hand to ignite the other.

Now at that end of the room, he still had the hostage held before him. His left hand had grabbed the other's chest, now still burning fiercely. When Yang Yi's grief-stricken gaze turned over, he coldly met the stare. The burning left hand patted the hostage several times, then his own body. Kerosene had gotten on his arm and wrist—no matter what, it wouldn't go out. Yang Yi watched his hand wave in the air, then suddenly clench into a fist and swing back hard.

CRASH.

Behind was a black ceramic wine jar. Large jar meant thick walls. Who knew how much force he used—one punch shattered the jar, probably fracturing or breaking bones in his hand. Wine gushed out. He extinguished the flames on his left arm in the liquid, hissing and steaming. The whole hand trembled slightly. It looked ruined.

Yet those cold eyes looking over and the right hand holding the iron spike at his son's throat hadn't moved at all. Only his furrowed brow twitched several times...