C1 Assassination

"I've brought everything you asked for!" In the red-light district of Silkwick, a man in his thirties tossed a box at the feet of a younger man in his twenties, then dragged over a stool and sat down. "So, what's the verdict on that job? Are you in or out? There's a whole line of people waiting if you're not up for it!"

The younger man, striking in appearance, opened the box to reveal two pristine pistols and a cache of over a hundred bullets. "Yang, how many times do I have to say it? I'm up for anything you ask, but murder... that's where I draw the line."

This man was Nie Feng, once part of a covert military unit. A grave error had forced him to retire and return to civilian life.

"Come on, Feng, what century are you living in?" Gao Yang spat out, clearly frustrated. "You're not a soldier anymore. If you're going to be a hitman, you can't be squeamish about killing! You've done it before. Quit being so delicate—it's unbecoming!"

"But those were different circumstances. The people I killed then had it coming. And since when is it a rule that all hitmen have to kill?" Nie Feng countered.

"The guy you're being asked to take out is no saint either. You know what kind of person he is—lazy, bullying, a real blight on society. Taking him out would be doing the people a favor. And let's not forget the payout— one million! Don't let your grudges cost you money. I've got a family to feed, Feng. I went to great lengths to line up this gig for you," Gao Yang pleaded, his face etched with desperation.

Nie Feng bowed his head, wrestling with the decision. Broke and unable to pay his rent, the million-yuan offer was incredibly tempting. He was well aware of Gao Yang's plight; his daughter suffered from congenital cerebral palsy, and as their only child, she had been the focus of their finances for years. The money was just as crucial for him.

"Fine, I'll do it. Give me the details on the target," Nie Feng said through clenched teeth.

A wave of relief washed over Gao Yang as he eagerly produced a file and laid it before Nie Feng. "Our man's likely at the Celestial Pavilion right now. He spends his nights there, always with the ladies, always in room 1204."

Nie Feng quickly scanned the individual's profile, committing it to memory: Zhao Dahai, male, 43 years old, a street thug... A million just to off some low-level hoodlum? It's definitely a rich man's world!

"Alright, let's head out!" Nie Feng said with a nod.

Gao Yang returned the nod, grinning as he trotted to the curb to fetch his well-worn Xiali N5. The car groaned to life with a rumble reminiscent of a tractor.

"Yang, seriously, can't you upgrade your ride? This thing's a wreck. Even scrap dealers would pass," Nie Feng complained.

"Just get in. Quit your yapping. Be grateful there's a car at all!" Gao Yang retorted with an annoyed glance.

As Nie Feng reached to open the passenger door, it came off in his hand.

"Ah, my door! Why so rough? Oh, my aching heart!" Gao Yang lamented, his face twisted in mock agony.

"It's just a busted door," Nie Feng remarked, tossing it aside and sliding into the car. "Once I snag that million, I'll get something decent."

"Spendthrift! You should be saving, not splurging," Gao Yang chided as he started the car and sped off toward the Celestial Pavilion.

The car crawled along at a snail's pace, barely hitting 20 miles per hour, turning what should have been a ten-minute trip into a thirty-minute ordeal.

Nie Feng pulled two guns from a case, loaded them, and tucked them into his jacket. "Stay here and keep the engine running," he instructed.

Gao Yang flashed an 'OK' sign and whipped out his phone to play a game of Landlord. Nie Feng shook his head in disbelief; even with the stakes this high, the guy found time for games.

The Celestial Pavilion was Silkwick's grandest hotel, and Nie Feng, clad in bargain-bin attire, drew stares the moment he stepped inside. Patrons dining in the lobby pointed and sneered at the sight of him.

Unfazed, Nie Feng strode to the elevator, donned a black mask, and flipped off the security camera with a defiant middle finger.

The elevator halted at the 12th floor, and Room 1204 was just down the hall—the fourth room to be precise. Standing guard at the door were two hulking brutes, their arms as thick as Nie Feng's thighs, clad in black tank tops that looked ready to burst at the seams from their bulging muscles. The tattoos etched on their exposed arms were a clear sign—they were trouble.

Nie Feng approached and came to a stop before them, prompting puzzled glances from the pair. They couldn't figure out his angle. One of them barked, "Kid, our boss is busy inside. If you value your life, beat it!"

They weren't exactly subtle about their boss's presence, were they?

Without uttering a word and keeping his head down, Nie Feng held his ground. The two men, growing irate at his silence, decided to escalate. One threw a punch in Nie Feng's direction.

That's when Nie Feng sprang into action, seizing the fist—twice the size of his own palm—with ease. A flicker of shock crossed the burly man's face; the slight figure before him possessed an unexpected, formidable strength. His fist was trapped as if in a vice, utterly immobile.

Nie Feng then delivered a punishing blow to the man's abdomen. The thug felt as if a sledgehammer had slammed into his gut, forcing a gush of blood from his lips. Nie Feng showed no mercy, following up with a palm strike to the man's head that sent him crashing to the floor, lifeless.

The second man snapped out of his daze just in time to draw a pistol, but before he could aim, Nie Feng was on him. With a swift, brutal twist, the man's hand grotesquely contorted, and the gun clattered to the ground.

With a casual flick of his foot, Nie Feng sent the pistol skittering across the floor, catching it and then brutally bringing it down on the bald man's head. Blood sprayed, and a gaping wound instantly marred the man's scalp.

As the man clutched his bleeding head, preparing to drop to his knees, Nie Feng's knee met his chin in a vicious upward strike, launching him into the air. The man's massive frame crashed against Room 1204's door, obliterating it into splinters.

Nie Feng strode into the room, finding two burly men already dead on the floor. At that moment, a naked man was on top of a young girl, about eighteen or nineteen years old. Her clothes had been shredded, leaving her in just a bra and underwear. Tears streaked her face, her eyes brimming with despair.

Nie Feng paused, taking in the scene. This man was assaulting the girl—a complete monster.

"Who are you? What do you want to..." Zhao Dahai began, lifting his head to face Nie Feng, but before he could finish his sentence, a bullet pierced his forehead.

Nie Feng held a black pistol, a weapon he hadn't touched in a long time, and it brought him an odd sense of relief.

The girl was petrified, huddled on the bed, staring at Nie Feng with terror etched across her face. It was only then that Nie Feng really looked at her. Her delicate eyebrows were meticulously groomed, her long lashes fluttered like tiny brushes, and her large, bright eyes were stunningly beautiful, almost piercing in their intensity. Even in the dim light, her beauty was undeniable.

It took a moment for Nie Feng to collect himself. He tossed a bathrobe from the floor to the girl and said, "Wrap yourself in this. Remember, you saw nothing, or I'll make sure you regret ever being born."

With that, Nie Feng unzipped his jacket, a move that alarmed the girl. Had she escaped one predator only to encounter another? But as Nie Feng's gaze remained averted, he simply reversed his coat, revealing a yellow side—the garment was reversible. Now clad in yellow, Nie Feng didn't spare the girl another glance as he left the room with purposeful steps.

Once Nie Feng was gone, the girl snapped out of her daze and called out, "Hey, what's your name? Hey!"

The security guards, alerted by the gunshot, had arrived, but as they emerged from the elevator, Nie Feng was already stepping into another. He descended to the ground floor and walked out of the Celestial Pavilion with confidence, sliding into Gao Yang's modest vehicle.

Gao Yang and Nie Feng exchanged a glance, immediately aware of their success, and couldn't help but feel elated. "Let's roll out and collect our payday from Mr. Wang!" Gao Yang exclaimed.

In his modest clunker, Gao Yang drove Nie Feng to a bar tucked away on a quiet backstreet. Despite its out-of-the-way location, the place buzzed with patrons. The crowd, mostly young adults in their twenties, gyrated wildly to the music, fueled by alcohol, each vying for the attention of potential suitors.

Approaching a man who looked every bit the bodyguard, Gao Yang exchanged a few words, prompting a nod. He then gestured eagerly to Nie Feng, ushering him into an opulent VIP room.

Inside sat a man with refined features, marred by a sly grin that set one on edge.

This had to be their employer, Mr. Wang, flanked by two bodyguards who, Nie Feng could tell from years of experience, were far from average—certainly a cut above Zhao Dahai's lackeys.

"Yang, you've arrived. How did you fare with the task I gave you?" Mr. Wang inquired, his attention never straying from the wine glass he cradled.

"Mr. Wang, the deed is done. By tomorrow morning, the news will be all over Zhao Dahai's demise. About the payment you promised..." Gao Yang said, grinning broadly.

Without a word, Mr. Wang signaled to one of his bodyguards who promptly placed a case on the table, flipping it open to reveal stacks of crisp, red bills—easily a million.

"I'm a man of my word, and I respect your code. The money's yours to take," Mr. Wang declared with a dismissive wave.

"Much appreciated, Mr. Wang!" Gao Yang's heart swelled with joy as he snapped the case shut and grabbed it.

"Hold on!" Mr. Wang called out just as they were about to leave. He turned to Nie Feng, "You're Nie Feng, correct? The retired special forces operative? How about joining my ranks? I assure you a life of luxury. You've seen what I'm capable of. Forget a million; stick with me and you're looking at a minimum of ten million a year!"

Nie Feng wasn't taken aback—clearly, Gao Yang had filled Mr. Wang in. "Sorry, I'm not interested," he replied icily. To think I'd mix with a pampered heir like you? That's laughable!