While the others scrambled to locate Ji Jingxu, on the far side of Imperial, the roar of Qi Li's motorcycle faded into silence as he rolled to a stop near a rundown building tucked deep in a secluded industrial area.
He had followed the van—the one driven by the three men who took Ji Jingxu—all the way here. The snowy, slippery roads had made it difficult, but he had kept his distance, maneuvering carefully to avoid losing them.
Somewhere along the route, during a sharp turn, his phone had slipped from his pocket and skidded into the darkness. He knew then—he was on his own. No backup. No way to contact the others.
He parked his motorcycle at a distance that would not attract unwanted attention.
Removing his helmet, Qi Li advanced toward the building with silent, calculated steps. His eyes swept across the perimeter, scanning for signs of movement, for anyone lurking in the shadows.
As he neared a broken window, faint voices drifted out. He crouched low, inching closer to listen.
"Shit. Who was the bastard tailing us? Did you lose him?"
"I think so. Who do you think it was? You think they saw us?"
"Probably just some passerby. We made it look like a hit-and-run, remember? Bastard probably thought there'd be a reward."
"Still... did you see that car? Only rich people drive stuff like that. The contractor was right. No way they're going to ignore a ransom."
Laughter followed, coarse and careless, before another set of footsteps entered the mix. A new voice spoke—calmer, colder.
"There's been a change of plans."
"We need the boy for something else. We move him now."
Just as the last word was spoken, headlights swept across the lot—a second van pulling up to the building.
Qi Li ducked down, heart pounding, eyes sharp. Through the fractured glass, he spotted Ji Jingxu's limp form being dragged into view.
Not until he saw the boy's chest rise and fall.
Relief flooded him—brief, shallow—but it vanished the instant one of the men kicked Ji Jingxu's side.
"Knocked him out good. Guess we don't need to inject him after all," one of them snorted.
Another laughed as the others turned to gather supplies stacked near the wall.
Qi Li's blood boiled. Every instinct screamed for him to storm in, take them down, and get Ji Jingxu out of there.
From what he'd heard, this wasn't random. Someone had hired these men. If he acted now, he'd risk letting the real mastermind vanish without a trace.
His fists curled tightly at his sides, every muscle tensed as he watched the three men lift Ji Jingxu and carry him toward the second van.
And when the time came, he would end this.
As the van drove away, Qi Li mentally noted the license plate before carefully slipping out of his hiding spot.
He hadn't even straightened up when a fist came flying at him. Instinct took over—he blocked it with swift precision.
The impact pushed him back a few steps but quickly regained his balance.
"Well, what do we have here? A little mouse trying to sneak in?"
The voice was laced with amusement. Qi Li looked up to see a hulking man—twice his size—grinning down at him with a sneer. But Qi Li didn't flinch.
Not even a twitch of fear crossed his face.
Calmly, he adjusted his glasses and squared his shoulders, his eyes locked onto the man without wavering.
The thug's grin faltered. People usually recoiled from his size alone—but this guy, this office-worker-looking man, wasn't the least bit intimidated.
"Let's see what you've got, kid."
With a grunt, the man lunged forward, throwing a heavy punch.
No words were exchanged. None needed. The moment cracked open like lightning, and they lunged at each other.
The first punch came fast—a jab aimed at Qi Li's jaw. He ducked, pivoted on his heel, and countered with a hook to the ribs. The man grunted, stumbled back a step, but recovered quickly.
He swung again, this time with a spinning kick. Qi Li blocked it with his forearm and used the momentum to shove the man back, followed by a sharp elbow strike to the collarbone.
But the man absorbed the pain, grabbed Qi Li's wrist mid-strike, and twisted.
Qi Li rolled with it, flipping over his own arm and wrenching free. He swept the man's legs. The thug hit the ground hard but kicked upward, forcing Qi Li to leap back and reset.
They circled, breaths shallow, eyes locked.
Then the man lunged low.
Qi Li saw it, sidestepped, and drove his knee into the man's side. He followed with a palm strike to the nose, then a fluid, punishing blow to the temple.
As quickly as it started, the two clashed in a flurry of blows—intense, fast-paced, brutal. Yet through it all, Qi Li's expression never changed. Calm. Focused. Every move he made was precise, every strike deliberate. He didn't miss once.
Time was slipping away.
With calculated force, he drove a hard punch into the man's throat. Not enough to kill him, but enough to end the fight.
A sickening gag followed as the brute collapsed, writhing on the ground like a fish gasping for air. Qi Li didn't spare him a second glance.
His eyes flicked toward the van, but it was already gone.
Even the one he'd been tailing had vanished.
The curse escaped under his breath, frustration simmering at how quickly things had spiraled. He turned back to the man, still choking, and staggered over to him.
Standing above him, Qi Li's gaze darkened—rage, cold and quiet, boiled beneath his calm surface.
Without hesitation, he kicked the man in the head—hard.
Just stillness so sharp it feels like it could cut skin.
Qi Li bent down, grabbed the man by the collar, and dragged him away like he weighed nothing.
His face remained a mask of stillness, but in his eyes, a storm brewed—cold, relentless, and unreadable.
"Fate will decide your answers."