Chapter 77: The Tale of an Assassin

Xia Yubing was an assassin, drawn into the trade by an old man three years ago. Even before she reached adulthood, her hands had already been stained with several lives. She no longer remembered what it felt like to kill for the first time; truth be told, the sensation of slicing open a throat with a knife was far from pleasant. Once the blade had been drawn, the deed was done, irrevocable. And a human life, she believed, ought to be treated with a measure of respect.

This time, her target was a boy not much older than herself, named Lu Feng.

She had followed him all morning, poised to strike, when she saw him pushing a little girl on a swing. The dagger she had already drawn was swiftly concealed again. She could not bring herself to kill a man in front of a child—a restraint born of her own past.

Back when Xia Yubing was still in high school, her family’s circumstances were modest, but they managed to get by. Her parents fought constantly; her mother complained her father was useless, unable to earn enough, while her father, hot-tempered, would smash things in his rage, loud enough for neighbors above and below to hear.

Whenever this happened, Xia Yubing would hide in the stairwell.

One day, as she cowered there, a band of vicious men burst into her home, beating and destroying, a scene straight out of a gang feud. She watched from her hiding place, desperate to intervene, but before she could, a large hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her into the apartment next door.

She feared the worst, but nothing dreadful transpired. The neighbor was a man in his fifties, his face marked by a knife scar, intimidating in appearance, yet he did nothing to harm her. He simply told her she could hide in his place whenever she needed.

Afterward, her father’s leg was broken by the gangsters, leaving him crippled and further diminished in his wife’s eyes. The fights at home grew more frequent, more unbearable.

From then on, Xia Yubing spent half her time in the old man's apartment next door. Until one day, she discovered his secret: he was an assassin.

At first, she was terrified and avoided the place. However, when her parents’ arguments escalated again—this time joined by her older brother, turning it into a three-way shouting match, the subject unfailingly the same: money—she found herself with nowhere left to hide. She knocked once more on her neighbor’s door.

Upon entering the daunting apartment, her first question was, “Can you make money by killing?”

From that day forth, the old man led her into the world of paid killings.

Murder did indeed bring in money, but it was neither easy nor lucrative. Still, as a young girl, she possessed certain advantages. On her previous job, the target was a bald man who had assaulted a girl, leaving her in a vegetative state. The victim’s family had nowhere to seek redress; the perpetrator sent thugs daily to threaten them, barring them from pressing charges.

Assigned to this job, Xia Yubing posed as a runaway teenager, easily gaining entry to the man’s home. She played along with him for a while, discreetly swapping his juice for one laced with sleeping pills. When he fell into deep sleep, she slit his throat with a dagger.

It was a job worth a hundred thousand. Her handler took fifty thousand, and Xia Yubing used her share to visit the girl in the hospital, leaving the money at her bedside.

This time, the fee was higher. After her handler’s cut, Xia Yubing could keep a hundred thousand. She knew well that if she received that much, the job’s total price must be at least half a million.

Half a million was no trivial sum. It wouldn’t buy a house, but it was more than enough to buy a life. The price also signified the target would not be easy.

She waited patiently until the little girl’s mother arrived to take her home, then continued to tail Lu Feng, searching for the right moment.

She followed him to a secluded street, where he suddenly stopped and turned to face her.

Her target, Lu Feng, had noticed he was being followed long ago, which was why he declined Chen Lan’s invitation to dinner.

Turning, Lu Feng saw a slender figure in a hooded jacket, the hood pulled up to shadow the forehead, a mask obscuring the face.

“Why are you following me?” he asked directly.

Xia Yubing didn’t answer. Her hand, hidden beneath her clothes, tightened around the dagger’s hilt. She stepped toward Lu Feng, and as she closed in, the blade slid from her sleeve and swept straight for his throat—quick and precise.

Lu Feng raised his hand, seizing her wrist. He frowned, “You just attack directly? Not even a word?”

When she first entered the profession, the old man who taught her said that the best assassin was a mute—just kill, never speak. Words wasted time; a single sentence could get you killed. So, until her target was dead, she never spoke.

As Xia Yubing had anticipated, a half-million job was no easy feat. Her first strike missed; she immediately punched for his lower back.

Lu Feng caught her fist with his other hand. Her right foot swung viciously toward his groin.

He quickly pushed her away with both hands, dodging the kick.

Xia Yubing reversed her grip on the dagger, rushing at him again.

Seeing her ruthless attacks, Lu Feng stopped holding back and counterattacked. He snatched her dagger, slashing at her ankle as she kicked, while reaching to grab her mask.

She let out a low cry as blood welled from the cut on her ankle. Staggering, she took a punch to the chest and fell.

Lu Feng was about to press his advantage, but as his fist struck her chest, he realized his attacker was a woman. He paused; as he moved in again, she pulled out a spray and aimed it at his face.

Lu Feng shielded his eyes. When he looked again, she had vanished.

But a trail of blood remained, winding from the street into an alley.

Lu Feng followed the blood, convinced this attacker was no mere gangster, but a highly skilled assassin—and a woman at that.

Assassins were sensitive business, like nuclear weapons: their use signaled a willingness to go to any lengths. Lu Feng had to catch her, discover who hired her, or risk future attacks.

He pursued the blood trail through a maze of alleys, only to find the bleeding target was a limping dog.

Clearly, the assassin had wounded the animal to mislead him and made her escape.