Chapter Seventeen: The Hunt in the Eastern City

The night wind in the Eastern City carried a crisp chill, whispering through the skeletal remains of an abandoned industrial district. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional flicker of movement in the shadows—stray cats, drifting newspaper scraps, or perhaps unseen eyes watching from a distance.

Lin Feng stood outside a decrepit warehouse, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as blades, scanning the surroundings with practiced precision. He was no stranger to places like this, where secrets were buried beneath layers of dust and rusted metal. After the chaotic raid in the southern suburbs last night, the Gray Wolf had barely escaped with his life, slipping away like a wounded animal. But tonight, there would be no escape.

Beside him, his trusted lieutenant, a lean man with sharp features, kept his voice low. "Boss, there's movement inside. I think they know something's up."

Lin Feng smirked slightly, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the dagger concealed in his sleeve. "Good," he murmured. "Saves me the trouble of hunting them down."

With a measured push, he swung open the warehouse's heavy iron door. The rusted hinges groaned, protesting his intrusion, but he stepped inside without hesitation.

The air was thick with the scent of oil, iron, and old paint. The dim overhead lights flickered, casting long, jagged shadows across the concrete floor. At first glance, the warehouse seemed to be just another abandoned structure, but the hurried movements of the men inside told a different story. Crates were being shifted, weapons loaded, and transactions finalized.

The moment Lin Feng entered, the atmosphere shifted. The black-clad men nearest to him tensed, hands drifting toward concealed holsters and hidden blades.

A deep, gravelly voice cut through the silence. "Who's there?"

From the far end of the warehouse, a figure stepped forward.

The Gray Wolf.

Even now, he wore his signature gray cloak, his face obscured by a simple mask that only revealed his calculating eyes. A short, wickedly sharp dagger rested in his gloved hand.

The moment he recognized Lin Feng, his lips curled into a humorless grin. "You again." His voice was laced with mockery. "I have to admit, your persistence is impressive. But you've made a mistake coming here alone. This will be your grave."

Lin Feng cocked his head slightly, slipping one hand into his pocket with an air of nonchalance. "Is that so?" His voice was light, almost amused. "Guess we'll have to test that theory."

The air tensed.

Gray Wolf flicked his wrist. A silent signal.

Immediately, over a dozen men surged forward, their movements fluid and lethal. Blades glinted under the dim lights, slicing through the stale air as they lunged toward Lin Feng.

Lin Feng didn't move until the last possible second.

Then, like a shadow slipping through cracks in the light, he exploded into motion.

His first strike sent a man flying backward, crashing into a stack of crates. The second attack—a lightning-fast elbow to the throat—dropped another instantly. In mere moments, three bodies were already writhing on the ground, gasping for breath or clutching shattered bones.

The remaining fighters hesitated.

Gray Wolf's smirk faltered slightly. "What are you waiting for?" he barked. "Kill him!"

The hesitation vanished.

They rushed him all at once.

Lin Feng met them head-on. His movements were precise, efficient—every kick, every punch landed with devastating force. A blade flashed toward his ribs; he sidestepped, grabbed the attacker's wrist, and twisted. A sickening snap echoed in the warehouse.

A gun was drawn. Lin Feng caught the attacker's arm before the trigger could be pulled, yanking the weapon free and using the butt of it to strike the man's temple. He crumpled instantly.

Within moments, the floor was littered with groaning bodies.

Gray Wolf's expression darkened. He lunged, his short blade aimed directly at Lin Feng's throat.

Lin Feng caught his wrist mid-air.

A struggle ensued—a battle of raw strength and technique. Gray Wolf was fast, but Lin Feng was faster. A well-placed knee to the stomach sent the masked man staggering backward.

Before he could recover, Lin Feng stepped in, pressing a boot against his chest, pinning him to the ground.

"Where is Black Shadow?" Lin Feng's voice was dangerously quiet.

Gray Wolf let out a strained chuckle, his breath labored. "Kill me if you want," he rasped. "It won't matter. Black Shadow never shows his face."

Lin Feng narrowed his eyes. "Still trying to play tough?"

He applied more pressure. A sharp, cracking sound filled the air.

Gray Wolf cried out, his resistance wavering. "Wait! I—I don't know exactly where he is," he gasped. "But I do know this—he's planning a meeting next week in Jiangcheng. Only the highest ranks know the exact location."

Lin Feng's gaze sharpened. "A meeting? When?"

"Next Wednesday," Gray Wolf coughed. His voice was hoarse with pain. "That's all I know. Please… let me go."

Lin Feng chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "Let you go?"

With a swift motion, he struck Gray Wolf at the base of the skull. The masked man slumped into unconsciousness without another word.

Lin Feng straightened just as his lieutenant entered the warehouse.

"Boss, it's done. Should we search the place?"

Lin Feng nodded. "Take everything useful."

The men moved quickly, combing through the crates, shelves, and hidden compartments. Lin Feng stood by the entrance, lighting a cigarette as he gazed into the distance. The hunt wasn't over yet.

Back at the office, Lin Xue'er was waiting. The moment Lin Feng stepped in, she rushed forward. "Brother! How did it go?"

Lin Feng ruffled her hair. "Caught a big rat. Black Shadow's planning a meeting next week."

Her eyes lit up. "Then we have a chance to track him down?"

Lin Feng nodded. "Looks that way."

His lieutenant entered, holding a stack of documents. "Boss, we found these in the warehouse. Financial records, transaction logs—all tied to the Shadow Syndicate. But more importantly, we found this."

He handed Lin Feng a map.

A single location was marked: Black Dragon Manor.

Lin Feng's fingers tightened around the paper.

"Black Dragon Manor?" His voice was thoughtful.

"Possible meeting location," the lieutenant confirmed. "If next Wednesday's gathering is important, it could happen there."

"Should we send people now?"

Lin Feng shook his head. "Not yet. We need more intel first. If we act too soon, we risk tipping them off."

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the desk in rhythmic thought. His mind was already formulating strategies, mapping out possibilities.

This was the closest he'd ever been to Black Shadow.

And this time, there would be no escape.

4o