"Hello, I'm Long Si."

Long Si smiled amiably at Lin Hai.

Upon first glance at the other party, Lin Hai immediately realized that this was a super-expert, with strength no less than his own.

However, because the Gang Qi Lin Hai cultivated was very special, unless he deliberately revealed it, it would be difficult for other experts of the same level to gauge his true strength.

"My name is Lin Hai." Lin Hai nodded slightly, ignoring the criminals lying on the ground.

Long Si reached out his hand, motioning for a handshake.

Lin Hai was taken aback for a moment, then extended his hand to cooperate, grasping Long Si's.

The moment he clenched hands, Lin Hai felt the pressure from Long Si's palm.

Lin Hai displayed a stubborn look, as the two gradually began an invisible test of force.

As Long Si's palm strength increased again, a line of sweat emerged on Lin Hai's forehead, and his complexion turned pale, but his eyes remained determined, as if he refused to give up.

Gradually, the cold sweat on Lin Hai's forehead became more profuse, his face ghastly pale, yet he still bit down on his teeth, seemingly unwilling to admit defeat.

Long Si observed Lin Hai carefully; at first, he thought Lin Hai was just putting on an act.

But as the exertion continued, Long Si found that Lin Hai indeed seemed to be struggling to keep up.

"Strange, King Yan couldn't possibly be this weak; he's the one who killed the Supreme Strong figure Shiva!" Doubts abounded in Long Si's mind. Although he thought Lin Hai might be feigning weakness intentionally, seeing Lin Hai's resolute and persevering expression, Long Si again felt that Lin Hai might truly be weaker than him.

Finally, just as Lin Hai seemed to be on the verge of collapsing, Long Si slowly released his grip.

"You are very strong," Lin Hai said staring intently at Long Si, word by word.

Long Si nodded slightly: "You are not bad either. If you continue to train hard, you may one day reach my level."

Lin Hai shook his head slightly: "Impossible. I injured my foundation in a battle before, and I can only maintain my current state for the rest of my life."

Long Si analyzed internally; according to the information, Lin Hai had once made a serious mistake and was dismissed from military service. Strictly speaking, he was no longer a citizen of Huaxia.

The records also mentioned that it seemed Lin Hai had gone against superior orders in a frenzy to avenge his comrades and a woman. That battle was tragically fierce, and afterward, Lin Hai disappeared.

If it weren't for the mysterious anonymous call claiming King Yan was in Huadu city, Lin Hai's files would probably have been sealed away indefinitely.

Linking to what Lin Hai now said about injuring his foundation in a battle, it seemed consistent with the descriptions in the files.

"Have you heard of King Yan?" Long Si looked intently at Lin Hai, saying each word deliberately.

Lin Hai's face changed abruptly, his eyes filled with a trace of fear and panic. He nodded, with the same reaction a common assassin would have when hearing his name, saying with a tone both respectful and admiring, and with yearning, "King Yan, the Legendary King of Assassins. Back when I was scraping a living abroad, his name was widespread as thunder."

Long Si nodded, then asked, "King Yan is very strong, right?"

"Strong. Although I've never seen King Yan, I've heard plenty about his deeds. It's a pity that I've injured my foundation; otherwise, I really would have liked to one day catch up to him and have a match with him... As for now, heh, I'm just half a cripple. I might have some strength in the eyes of ordinary people, but against true experts, all I can do is flee for my life. Sigh."

After speaking, Lin Hai's eyes darkened, and he sighed heavily, as if filled with regret.

Long Si pondered rapidly in his mind. He knew Lin Hai, a person who used to be the elite among special forces, could have been called the young King of Soldiers, a man who was extremely proud and greatly valued his dignity while in the military.

But now, seeing Lin Hai's dejected gaze, Long Si sighed inwardly; elite soldiers may be proud in the military, but once they return to civilian life, they often fare worse than ordinary people. They may be strong, but they are no match for the social experiences of real-world people because reality is too harsh and too cruel. They can only be played by the white-collar workers of the urban jungle.

Most veterans, if they fare well, might work as a bodyguard for a boss; if not, they end up as a guard or performing menial labor.

Lin Hai now gave Long Si the impression of a once elite soldier of past glory, who had been ruthlessly blocked by reality, desolate and decadent, reluctant yet humiliated to accept the truth.

Long Si began to doubt the accuracy of the intelligence, but he wouldn't rashly conclude the outcome, planning to observe Lin Hai for a bit longer.

"Come on, have a smoke." Long Si smiled, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and handed one to Lin Hai.

Lin Hai's reaction was exactly what you'd expect from someone who had suffered a huge setback and then encountered someone who sympathized with him; he gratefully nodded to Long Si and said, "Thank you."

Lighting a cigarette, Lin Hai's expression was filled with reminiscence and yearning: "Reality truly is a cruel thing. Back in the day, I was so proud and arrogant, and now I can only degrade myself to a security guard, damn, I'm so unwilling."

Long Si chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, offering a few words of comfort.

...

On the other side, in an abandoned factory in a suburban area.

On the factory floor lay seven or eight sacks, surrounded by more than fifty hoodlums holding iron rods, their expressions mocking.

The sacks kept rolling around on the floor, whimpering sounds coming from inside.

Yu Tianlin pointed to one of the sacks and told his subordinates, "Start with this one."

The sack was untied, and a bespectacled, neatly-dressed fellow was dragged out, looking disheveled and terrified, with his hands and feet tied with ropes, whimpering.

"This is that XX tabloid's journalist, a particularly venomous mouth, the article he wrote was the most heart-stabbing," Zhang Yang explained, standing nearby.

Yu Tianlin nodded and waved his hand: "Beat him!"

At the order, the underlings grinned maliciously, wielding baseball bats as they circled the journalist.

The journalist curled up on the ground, terrified, looking at the imposing thugs, trying to speak, but only managing to whimper.

"Sometimes the hearts of the cultured are the most fucking poisonous. Teach this jerk a good lesson, let him learn from his stinking mouth," Zhang Yang clearly had a strong disdain for this nonsense-spewing fellow.

Suddenly, a barrage of iron rods, like raindrops, fell upon the terrified young journalist, relentlessly crashing down on him.

The journalist on the ground let out mournful whimpers, rolling back and forth, yet unable to escape the shower of sticks, the crisp sound of bones breaking could be heard.

Other people were also dragged out from the remaining sacks.

Some were even hung up.

"Damn it, where's the whip? I want to flog him!" Zhang Yang exclaimed excitedly; he loved fighting, especially this kind of one-sided beating, which made his blood boil more than rolling in bed.

"So, you like spreading rumors, turning black into white and white into black, right?"

Zhang Yang sneered at a chubby man wearing glasses, the editor-in-chief of a small newspaper who was quite arrogant. The government departments didn't dare to offend him too much, for he held the power of public opinion. A few defamatory articles could lead to a torrent of abuse from the uninformed netizens towards the government.

"Slap—"

The whip, soaked with water, lashed viciously on the chubby editor's body.

"Aah!"

The chubby editor let out a miserable scream.

Zhang Yang's face was filled with excitement, as if injected with adrenaline, the whip in his hand lashing out madly.

Slap, slap, slap, slap————

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