Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Final Roar of Life

Ma Wu had figured it all out. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushed out of the villa where Wu Ting lived, only to find she was already gone. After a brief pause to consider, he sprinted toward the parking lot.

As expected, there in the lot, Ma Wu saw Wu Ting driving her car, speeding through the Wu family gates and away from the estate.

He quickly climbed into his own car and tore after her.

Now, Wu Ting’s car was long out of sight, but by his reasoning, there was only one road out of the Wu estate. It split in two directions: left led toward Ma Wu’s own Jing Mountain apartment, right was a straight road heading to the outskirts.

Ma Wu was ninety-nine percent sure she’d gone right. He floored the gas, his car fishtailing as he chased in her direction.

He pushed the speedometer to eighty, skirting the edge of illegality.

With one hand on the wheel, he used the other to call Wu Ting. Unsurprisingly, her phone was already off.

Gritting his teeth, Ma Wu dialed Wu Xin.

Wu Xin picked up quickly. A voice, aged but full of vigor, came through: “Hello, Ma Wu, my young friend.”

Ma Wu was silent for a moment, then got straight to the point: “Master Wu Xin, you wanted me to stop Wu Di from his schemes, acting as a private party. I played the part of a wastrel, constantly clashing with him. But Wu Ting misunderstood. She’s heartbroken and fled the house. I’m chasing after her now.”

Wu Xin was silent. Ma Wu continued, “Master Wu Xin, I have two things to say. First, I don’t want to keep pretending, letting Wu Ting misunderstand me. Whatever Wu Di does, I believe I can help you stand your ground. Once I catch up to Wu Ting, I plan to tell her the truth.”

“I think we can trust Wu Ting. I believe she won’t let Wu Di catch on. And even if he does, I’ll do everything in my power to handle it.”

“Second, Master Wu Xin, you must immediately begin the purge within your faction. Wu Di’s influence runs too deep—today I discovered her room’s been bugged and surveilled by Wu Xin’s people. If you don’t act soon, it’ll be too late!”

Ma Wu said all this in one breath. Wu Xin sighed deeply. “Very well. Perhaps my thinking was flawed from the start. You and Ting’er have suffered for this. When the time comes, I’ll explain everything to her myself. Do what you think is right.”

Ma Wu nodded, about to say more, when suddenly an SUV burst from the fields at the roadside, ramming straight into the side of his car.

With a thunderous crash, Ma Wu’s car spun out, glass shattering mid-air as he lost control.

The car was flipped over. The airbag burst from the steering wheel, slamming Ma Wu’s face. Shards of glass sliced his cheeks.

He forced open the battered door and crawled out.

Thanks to his basic physical enhancements from the system, Ma Wu survived. An ordinary person would have been concussed and incapacitated, at the mercy of their attackers. But Ma Wu’s reinforced body endured the shock—his mind only slightly dazed, but otherwise largely unharmed.

Emerging from the overturned car, Ma Wu’s face was grim as he eyed the SUV. Its exterior showed hardly a scratch—a professional’s vehicle, no doubt.

He’d been ambushed by experts.

The SUV doors swung open and three middle-aged men stepped out. Their faces were plain, unremarkable in a crowd, but marked by the trials of life and a chilling, murderous aura.

Ma Wu clenched his jaw—one look told him he was outmatched. Every one of these men was a battle-hardened veteran.

He forced a smile, trying to solve things with money: “Gentlemen, I don’t know who sent you, but I’ll pay you double whatever they offered.”

The leader sneered, “Sorry. Don’t mistake us for some third-rate thugs. We have principles.”

With that, he sprang forward like a cannonball, fists swinging at Ma Wu with lethal force. Ma Wu narrowly dodged left and right, feeling the wind of each punch sting his face.

The other two soon joined in, fighting with the same ruthless efficiency.

Ma Wu struggled to fend off even one—now, up against all three, he was quickly overwhelmed. In the melee, a blow landed on his chest; he spat blood, feeling two ribs snap.

This couldn’t go on. Gritting his teeth, Ma Wu braced his back against a punch, feeling his vision blur as he coughed up another mouthful of blood.

But now his eyes flashed with resolve. Ignoring the other two, he twisted around, driving his knee hard into his attacker’s gut.

He used his full strength—a blow that would have killed an ordinary man. But the attacker only grunted, staggering back two steps.

Ma Wu didn’t hesitate. He swung a fist at the man’s head. The man, still reeling, blocked with his forearm—Ma Wu’s punch landed with a sickening crack of bone.

These were desperate moves; Ma Wu knew if he didn’t take one down, he’d die here today.

His punch missed, but he kept his cool, converting his fist into an elbow. Grabbing the man’s collar, he yanked him close and drove his elbow into the man’s temple. The man barely managed to block, but was too weak to resist—the blow landed full-force.

The other two finally unleashed their own attacks; punches hammered into Ma Wu’s back, blood streaming from his mouth and nose as he staggered forward and collapsed.

Glancing sideways, he saw the man he’d attacked convulsing on the ground, foam at his mouth—if not dead, then a vegetable.

He bared his teeth in a grin, laughing at the two remaining men: “Tough guy, aren’t I?”

Then, with a manic laugh, Ma Wu reached into thin air. A gleaming Desert Eagle appeared in his hand—a weapon he’d earned on a past mission, always kept in his storage space, never used until now, at the brink of life and death.

He’d risked everything to take one down—just to give himself a moment to shoot. Otherwise, surrounded, his aim would be spoiled.

Ma Wu laughed wildly, shouting, “Gentlemen, some tough guys are just too much to handle!” With bloodied right hand, he aimed the Desert Eagle at the two charging figures and fired.

Bang! Bang!

The shots rang out across the fields. The two men, still mid-charge, eyes wide with disbelief, collapsed at Ma Wu’s feet, each with a gaping wound in the forehead.

Ma Wu, covered in blood, his white shirt stained red—half his own, half from his fallen foes—struggled to stand, staggering toward the SUV.

This time, his injuries were severe. He guessed most of his ribs were broken, his organs badly damaged. These were no ordinary thugs, but deadly, disciplined killers—surely a professional assassin team.

Ma Wu raised his gun, aiming at the driver’s seat, coughing up clots of blood, his voice hoarse: “Driver, get out. Let me see just what kind of monsters you are.”

The car door opened. Out stepped a young man in black, strikingly handsome—a blend of rugged masculinity and the delicate charm of a Korean idol, the kind to make women scream.

He smiled at Ma Wu. “Impressive. You took out three ex-special forces soldiers from YN single-handedly. I respect that.”

Ma Wu, wary, kept the gun trained on the man’s forehead, listening.

The young man seemed utterly unconcerned by the Desert Eagle. He walked to the passenger side, opened the door, and dragged out Wu Ting, her mouth sealed with tape.

He grinned: “Is it because of a woman? Are you this fierce because you want to protect her? Wu Ting’s bodyguard? Or…”

“Her lover?”

As Ma Wu stared in horror, the young man ripped the tape from Wu Ting’s mouth. Wu Ting, weeping bitterly, cried out to him, “Ma Wu, run! Please, run! I’m the reason you’re in danger—if I hadn’t run off, you wouldn’t be caught up in this… I’m so sorry…”

The fury and killing intent in Ma Wu’s eyes only grew. He roared, “Let Wu Ting go! Whatever you want, take it out on me!”

The young man acted as if he hadn’t heard, tossing Wu Ting aside. “I really like you, you know. It’s a pity—since you’re involved, you have to die.”

He fiddled with a silver ring on his finger. “Honestly, it’s just bad luck. You weren’t our target. But you got in the way. Blame the heavens.”

His last words were nearly a shout. Suddenly, he lunged forward, moving with ghostlike speed.

Ma Wu fired reflexively. The Desert Eagle roared, three shots in a triangular spread—a pattern almost impossible to dodge within ten meters.

But this time, it failed. The young man flashed past the SUV, appearing right in front of Ma Wu, the bullets sparking harmlessly off the vehicle.

The young man’s fist struck like lightning, smashing into Ma Wu’s abdomen. Ma Wu, completely unprepared, couldn’t even defend himself.

And then, a silver needle sprang from the ring, stabbing deep into Ma Wu’s stomach. The needle was laced with poison—Ma Wu’s agony vanished, replaced by numbness and burning heat.

He was thrown several meters, collapsing. The Desert Eagle flew from his hand. In despair, Ma Wu watched the young man turn toward Wu Ting.

At that moment, a red Cruze pulled to the roadside. From it stepped a woman, her back to Ma Wu. She called to the young man, “All done?”

He smiled, gesturing to Wu Ting, cowering nearby. “Of course. I never fail. What, you want to handle it yourself?”

She looked at the blood-stained road. “Why’s it such a mess? Something go wrong?”

He shrugged. “It was all smooth, but then some bodyguard or whatever chased us down. He killed the three ex-special forces guys. Now he’s lying over there.”

The woman instinctively turned. She glanced at Ma Wu.

Ma Wu stared back—and at that instant, realization struck. Her eyes were cold, indifferent, as distant as a flower on a high cliff. It was Ye Qing!

He gasped, spitting out two more clots of blood, and summoned all his strength to shout: “Ye Qing! You threatened me, you set me up, I endured it all.”

His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted in fury as he glared at Wu Ting, cowering like a lamb for slaughter, and roared:

“But if you dare lay a finger on that woman, I swear, I’ll kill you! I, Ma Wu, will kill you!”

As consciousness faded, Ma Wu howled, hysterical, with his last breath:

“Ye Qing! Ye Qing! Don’t touch that woman!”

“I’m begging you—don’t touch her!”