By 7:45 PM, Phoenix Street had completely cleared out. The typical bustling night market, usually fragrant with hot oil, seasoned meats, and old paper, was utterly desolate. The torrential downpour had driven the casual tourists away, but it was a different kind of chill that had forced the local antique shop owners to slam their heavy wooden shutters closed ahead of schedule.
A row of sleek, black armored SUVs glided silently onto the wet cobblestones, their headlights cutting through the thick evening fog like long, pale spears.
The doors opened simultaneously. Twelve men stepped out into the rain.
They didn't wear standard corporate uniforms or tactical windbreakers. These men were draped in matte-black tactical plating that hummed with a low, mechanical vibration. Their faces were obscured by dark, mirrored visors, and their breathing sounded strange—heavy, rhythmic, and hiss-like, filtered through specialized respiratory apparatuses. This was the Zhao family’s private
Iron Guard
vanguard. Every single member was a death-row mercenary who had undergone illegal, pre-Awakening gene-stripping therapies and chemical bone-density augmentation, paid for by the Zhao Group’s black-budget medical labs.
Walking slightly ahead of the formation was a towering enforcer whose cybernetic carbon-fiber gauntlets hissed with compressed pneumatic pressure.
"The regional tracking matrix confirms the digital token broadcasted from this courtyard less than twenty-four hours ago," the lead enforcer baritone voice crackled over the squad's encrypted audio loop. "Director Zhao Kun’s orders are absolute. Clean the grid. Liquidate every merchant within a three-block radius to ensure the internal mole cannot establish a physical drop-point."
"Understood," the squad responded, their heavy, augmented boots grinding against the wet cobblestones as they drew high-frequency tactical machetes from their back sheaths. The blades vibrated so violently that the falling raindrops instantly vaporized into tiny puffs of steam upon making contact with the metal.
They moved toward the entrance of a small, traditional courtyard shop specializing in ancient scrolls.
"You're looking in the wrong direction."
The calm, flat voice cut through the steady drumming of the downpour. It didn't sound loud, yet it vibrated with a deep, spatial resonance that bypassed the Iron Guard’s sound-filtering visors, echoing directly inside their helmet receivers.
The twelve augmented enforcers stopped instantly, pivoting their frames toward the center of the courtyard.
Sitting cross-legged on the stone rim of the ancient, dry well was Lin Feng. He wore his simple black hoodie, the fabric completely drenched by the storm, his hands loosely resting on his knees. His wire-rimmed glasses were gone, and his eyes, completely uncovered in the dim red glow of the hanging lanterns, looked entirely vacant—like an infinite, bottomless abyss.
The lead enforcer’s ocular scanners rapidly swept Lin Feng's silhouette.
ANALYSIS: No visible armor. No ballistic weapons. Muscle mass index: Minimal. Cellular energy signature: Undetected.
"A civilian loiterer," the lead enforcer muttered, his pneumatic gauntlet twitching with a murderous hiss. "Code Black. Eliminate him first."
Two Iron Guard operatives stepped forward, their augmented thighs exploding with mechanical force as they closed the twenty-meter distance in a fraction of a second. Their high-frequency machetes sliced through the curtain of rain, aiming to clean-cut Lin Feng into three separate pieces before he could even stand up.
Lin Feng didn't stand up.
The moment the twin blades came within six inches of his neck, his hands moved. It was a movement completely devoid of flash or complexity—a simple, outward flick of his index and middle fingers, infused with the absolute, dense power of
Mortal Flesh Refinement—Stage 9 Peak
.
BANG. BANG.
A sharp, explosive sonic boom detonated in the center of the courtyard. The reinforced, multi-layered alloy blades of the high-frequency machetes didn't just break; they violently shattered into hundreds of microscopic steel shards. The sheer kinetic backlash traveled up the enforcers' arms, instantly vaporizing their augmented wrist joints and sending them flying backward across the courtyard, where they crashed heavily into the brick walls, their chest plates splitting open from the structural impact.
The remaining ten enforcers froze, their mirrored visors instantly flickering with red error alerts.
"Biometric anomaly!" the lead enforcer roared, his pneumatic gauntlets flaring to maximum pressure as he stepped forward. "Form a suppression circle! Use the high-voltage netting!"
"You corporate hounds always rely too much on toys," Lin Feng said softly.
He rose from the stone well, his movements completely light, as if the gravity of the earth could no longer find a hold on his flesh. Beneath his soaked sweatshirt, his skin flared with a temporary, blinding pearlescent luster, his internal Qi circulating through his pristine meridians with the deep, terrifying roar of an subterranean ocean.
Before the enforcers could unclip their tactical launchers, Lin Feng disappeared.
It wasn't a speed technique or a magical spell; his physical velocity at the Stage 9 Peak simply exceeded the optical refresh rate of the Iron Guard's electronic visors.
Thump.
Lin Feng appeared directly inside the guard formation, his open palm driving into the ribcage of the nearest augmented enforcer. The compressed kinetic energy bypass the outer titanium plating entirely, liquefying the enforcer's internal organs in less than a millisecond. The man dropped like a stone, his visor going dark.
Without pausing, Lin Feng executed a fluid, spinning pivot. His heel swept across the wet pavement, striking the knees of two adjacent guards. The sound of their augmented, reinforced bones snapping sounded like firecrackers exploding in a closed room.
"Die, you monster!"
The lead enforcer screamed, swinging his massive, pneumatic-assisted fist directly toward Lin Feng’s temple. The punch carried enough compressed mechanical force to crack the hull of an armored personnel carrier.
Lin Feng didn't dodge. He simply raised his left hand, his bare palm intercepting the multi-ton mechanical strike with absolute, effortless precision.
BOOM.
The shockwave from the impact blew the falling rain fifty feet backward, clearing a perfect, dry circle in the air for a single second. The lead enforcer stared in absolute, uncomprehending horror as his massive carbon-fiber gauntlet groaned, the metal bending and crumpling against Lin Feng's soft, bare skin like wet cardboard.
"Your foundation is hollow," Lin Feng said, his gaze locking onto the enforcer's visor. "Chemical augmentation is just a temporary cage. Let me show you what an unbroken foundation looks like."
Lin Feng closed his fingers, gripping the crumpled gauntlet, and gave a light, casual twist of his wrist.
The lead enforcer's entire frame was lifted off the ground, spun three times through the air, and violently driven face-first into the cobblestones. The immense impact shattered the stone flooring, digging a half-meter-deep crater into the courtyard. The enforcer's respiratory apparatus detached, his visor shattering completely to reveal a face twisted in absolute terror before his consciousness vanished.
Thirty seconds after the confrontation had begun, the courtyard fell perfectly silent once more.
Twelve elite, augmented enforcers from the Zhao Group’s black-budget unit lay scattered across the broken bricks, completely neutralized, their expensive tactical gear ruined and smoking.
Lin Feng stood at the center of the carnage, his breathing smooth and unhurried. He casually unzipped his backpack, pulling out his smartphone to check the local encrypted boards one last time.
Suddenly, a violent, high-intensity crimson laser beam painted itself directly onto the center of his chest.
From the dark arched roof of the northern alleyway, a figure descended, landing soundlessly on the wet tiles. It was Zhao Kun. The internal security director looked down at the twelve broken bodies of his private guard, his broad, weathered face remaining entirely expressionless, though his deep-set eyes burned with a terrifying, industrial madness.
In his right hand, Zhao Kun held a heavy, custom-made tactical revolver that glowed with a continuous, pale blue spark—an early prototype of a Qi-conductor firearm.
"You're not a hacker, and you're certainly not a Bai family operative," Zhao Kun said, his gravelly voice carrying a dense vibration that proved he, too, had secretly begun using early-stage breathing techniques to refine his body. "Who are you, brat? Where did you learn a physical refinement technique of this caliber before the Grand Awakening?"
Lin Feng didn't lower his head or look at the laser dot on his chest. A cold, undefeated smile played on his lips as he faced the Iron Warden of Jiangnan.
"A mishap turns into an asset, Director Zhao," Lin Feng whispered, his eyes flashing with an ancient, golden light beneath the rain. "You brought an execution squad to my street. Now... let’s see if your corporate insurance covers your life."