Chapter Twenty-two: The Shadow of Assassination

The crisis at the Jiangcheng Business Association building had been resolved, but Lin Feng knew that the danger was far from over. Back in his office, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the room. He stood in silence, gazing out at the cityscape, his expression unreadable. The Shadow Syndicate's bomb plot had failed, but they were not the type to simply give up. If anything, they would come back even more determined. He was their primary target, the thorn in their side, and he had no doubt that an assassination attempt was imminent.

Lin Xue'er approached him hesitantly, her voice soft yet filled with concern. "Brother, the business association building is safe now… but will the Shadow Syndicate strike again?"

Lin Feng turned to look at her, his gaze calm yet piercing. "Yes," he said flatly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "And sooner than we think." He exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "The bomb was just an appetizer. The real attack is yet to come."

As if on cue, his phone rang, its sharp tone slicing through the quiet tension in the room. He picked up, and a hurried voice came from the other end. It was one of his most trusted subordinates. "Boss, we've spotted a suspicious group in East City. They're armed, and judging by their movements, they look like Shadow Syndicate assassins."

Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. "Keep an eye on them. I'm on my way."

He ended the call and turned to Lin Xue'er. "Stay here and don't move. I'll handle this."

She nodded, worry etched into her delicate features. "Be careful, brother."

Lin Feng grabbed his coat and strode out. Moments later, his car sped through the city streets, weaving through traffic with practiced ease. His mind was already calculating possible scenarios. The Shadow Syndicate wouldn't send just anyone for a hit like this—they were bound to have prepared professionals.

The East City industrial district was a long-abandoned relic of Jiangcheng's past. Decaying warehouses and rusted machinery littered the area, a perfect place for clandestine operations. Lin Feng parked his car a few blocks away and met with his subordinate, who was waiting in the shadows.

"Boss," the man whispered. "They're holed up in that old factory. At least ten of them, all heavily armed."

Lin Feng smirked. "Ten? That's barely enough to warm me up."

His eyes flickered with cold amusement as he adjusted his sleeves. Then, without hesitation, he walked toward the factory, exuding an aura of absolute confidence.

Inside the factory, ten black-clad figures were inspecting their weapons. Their leader, a man with a deep scar running down his cheek, spoke in a low, menacing tone. "Lin Feng has destroyed both the Dark Nest and the mountain estate. Tonight, he dies."

Before he could say more, the factory doors burst open with a thunderous crash. Lin Feng stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the dim light outside. He slipped one hand into his pocket and smiled. "Kill me?" His voice was laced with mockery. "Let's see if you even have a chance."

Scarface's eyes darkened. "Kill him!" he barked.

The assassins sprang into action, their blades glinting in the dim light, gun muzzles flashing as bullets tore through the air. But Lin Feng was faster. He moved like a shadow, weaving through the chaos with inhuman speed. Bullets whizzed past, but none found their mark.

With a swift punch, he sent one gunman sprawling, then snatched the fallen man's weapon and fired two precise shots—both hitting their targets. A blade came slashing toward him, but he dodged effortlessly, countering with a devastating kick to the attacker's ribs. Bones cracked, and the man crumpled to the floor, groaning in agony.

Scarface charged at him with a machete, swinging wildly. Lin Feng sidestepped the attack and landed a brutal kick to his knee, sending him collapsing to the ground. Before the man could react, Lin Feng struck the back of his neck with a sharp palm strike, rendering him unconscious.

Less than five minutes had passed, and the factory floor was littered with bodies. Some lay still, while others moaned in pain, clutching their wounds. Lin Feng surveyed the carnage with a cool gaze, then dusted off his hands as if he had simply finished a routine chore.

His eyes settled on one survivor, a trembling assassin who had yet to pass out. "Where is the Shadow Syndicate's next move?" he asked, his voice chillingly calm.

The man's face was pale. "I-I don't know! We only received assassination orders through the dark web!"

Lin Feng frowned. Useless. He kicked the man aside and turned to his subordinate. "Take the survivors back for interrogation. I want to know where the next hit order comes from."

His subordinate nodded. "Understood, Boss."

Back at the office, Lin Feng sank into his chair, exhaling slowly. Lin Xue'er rushed to him. "Brother, are you okay?"

He gave her a reassuring nod. "They were just small fries. The real mastermind hasn't appeared yet."

But in his mind, he knew the Shadow Syndicate was already planning their next move. The failed assassination would only escalate things further. He had dealt with their foot soldiers today, but tomorrow, they would come back stronger.

Just then, the office door swung open. A man in glasses walked in, his face serious. "Boss, we cracked the assassin's communication logs. They were hired temporarily, and the dark web will issue a new directive tomorrow."

Lin Feng took a deep drag from his cigarette, his eyes sharp as a blade. "Good. Keep monitoring it. Tomorrow, I want to know exactly what they're planning."

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He knew this game of life and death wasn't ending anytime soon. If anything, it was just beginning. The Shadow Syndicate had underestimated him once, and he would make sure they never made that mistake again. As the smoke curled from his lips, his mind was already strategizing the next steps.

The game wasn't over yet. If the Shadow Syndicate wanted to play, he would make sure they regretted it.