Chapter 265: 4:39:21 P.M.

Chapter 265: 4:39:21 P.M.

Jiang Chuan knew perfectly well that he might not be able to beat Wu Chen.

That photograph Wu Chen had taken in the elevator and sent him had genuinely frightened him. He simply could not believe a human being was capable of such a thing—seven men sent to kill one, and the one had turned on them and wiped out the lot.

Later, though, when he spoke with Old Dao by phone, Old Dao had said he nearly managed to injure Li Ruobing. That had made Jiang Chuan “understand” the truth: Old Dao and his men had not been taken apart by Wu Chen alone. Li Ruobing must have arrived with her people in time and intervened. The sequence of events had to have been more complicated than it looked, and the photograph of the elevator was probably doctored to some degree.

But even so—

Wu Chen had been the primary target of the attack, and he had come through without a scratch. However Jiang Chuan turned it over, Wu Chen had to possess extremely high personal combat ability.

So Jiang Chuan could tell that Wu Chen was formidable.

That he dared send everyone else out and face Jiang Chuan alone while Jiang Chuan held a knife proved it as well. Anything else would have been asking to die.

Jiang Chuan did not know whether he could beat Wu Chen, but he still had to try. He had no choice and no way back. He had to try.

When a man is driven into a corner, even knowing he cannot win, he still has to go.

Besides, it was all guesswork. Perhaps he was not outmatched after all.

The knife was still falling toward the floor.

Jiang Chuan’s kick was already coming. He was a professional, and the kick was viciously powerful.

But Wu Chen’s eyes were not drawn to the falling blade. In the instant Jiang Chuan lifted his leg, Wu Chen moved too.

He lifted his own.

Jiang Chuan had moved first, yet Wu Chen was faster. In a breath the two of them were kicking straight into each other.

Thud!

Jiang Chuan’s leg snapped back and his body pitched sideways.

Wu Chen had caught him behind the knee.

Wu Chen’s reactions and control gave Jiang Chuan an outright terrifying feeling. But Jiang Chuan did not give up easily.

As his body tilted he rode the momentum and swung a heavy fist at Wu Chen’s chin.

Wu Chen swept a hand up and backhanded him across the face.

Smack—

A ringing slap.

Jiang Chuan rocked from the blow, and while he was still swaying he drove a knee up toward Wu Chen’s chest.

Wu Chen chopped a hand down on a diagonal, striking the inside of Jiang Chuan’s thigh first, then carried the motion into a rising elbow that slammed into his abdomen.

Jiang Chuan doubled over and used the fold of his body to bring a knife-hand down at Wu Chen’s neck.

Wu Chen caught his wrist in a backhand grip and wrenched.

“Ah!”

Jiang Chuan screamed and dropped to his knees in front of Wu Chen with a thump. He had no choice. The angle at which Wu Chen was twisting his arm meant that not kneeling would cost him the arm; only by lowering his body could he ease the pain.

And after that heavy blow behind the knee, the leg could not carry much force anyway.

It sounds complicated. In fact all of it happened in an extremely short span of time. From Jiang Chuan’s sudden kick to Wu Chen wrenching his arm and forcing him down, only a few seconds had passed.

Every attack Jiang Chuan launched was beaten back—and earned him another hit in return.

Jiang Chuan was still tough. He could take punishment. Wu Chen had countered him several times and he had neither backed away nor gone down. But in the end Wu Chen still twisted his arm and put him on his knees.

He was getting older, after all. Past forty, past his physical prime.

In pure fighting ability there was a clear difference in level between them, to say nothing of Wu Chen’s freakish reaction speed.

Old Dao’s three trusted men out in the living room all heard Jiang Chuan scream. None of them burst into the bedroom.

Because the one screaming was Jiang Chuan.

Wu Chen eased the pressure slightly.

Jiang Chuan stopped screaming, but he did not struggle or attempt another attack. He understood now.

Against Wu Chen he did not stand a chance.

Wu Chen let him go.

“Give me the knife,” Wu Chen said again.

Jiang Chuan worked at his right shoulder and elbow with his left hand. At Wu Chen’s words he glanced at the dagger lying on the floor beside him, picked it up, and offered it to him once more.

This time Jiang Chuan tried nothing. He surrendered the weapon that had given him his last sense of security, the final thing he had to lean on.

Wu Chen took the dagger, turned it idly in his hand, then looked at Jiang Chuan and smiled.

“You should be glad you left yourself some room.”

Jiang Chuan had indeed left himself room.

He had not attacked Wu Chen with the knife. He had used his fists and feet.

Using the knife would have changed the nature of the thing entirely. Jiang Chuan had not been certain he could beat Wu Chen, nor certain whether Wu Chen was carrying a gun. So he had not used it.

Had he used it and lost, Wu Chen might have killed him on the spot.

“I know what you’re afraid of. The Ding family and the Li family.” Wu Chen turned away as he spoke and began to pace. “Whether it’s Ding Ruilong or Li Ruotai, both of them want you dead right now.”

“The truth is, a great deal isn’t the way you imagine it.”

As he spoke he passed a cabinet by the wall and stabbed the dagger casually into its top. Then he reached for a chair on the other side and swung it around.

He turned, sat, crossed one leg over the other, and smiled at Jiang Chuan.

“Let’s look at it from another angle. You don’t want to die, but you believe you’re trapped in a situation where death is certain. So even if you die, you want your death to be worth something. Protecting your family, for instance.”

Wu Chen paused, still smiling, then went on. “In reality, nothing is certain.”

At the same moment, in the living room.

The broad, powerfully built man and the fair-skinned man in glasses sat on the sofa speaking in low voices. The small, thin man paced back and forth in front of them.

All three glanced toward the bedroom door from time to time.

None of them dared put an ear to it.

Old Dao had briefed them by phone. They knew that the young man named Wu Chen was now their big brother Old Dao’s boss.

Which made him their big brother’s big brother.

Old Dao had also warned them repeatedly about how Wu Chen was “not human.”

They knew their own big brother well, so those words had genuinely frightened them. By now they held Wu Chen in awe.

So although they were curious, although they wanted to know what Wu Chen had come to discuss with Jiang Chuan, they neither dared nor intended to listen at the door.

There was no need for it anyway.

More than twenty minutes later.

The bedroom door opened.

Wu Chen came out, Jiang Chuan following behind him. Jiang Chuan’s face was complicated, the face of a man carrying a thousand thoughts at once. Wu Chen had hit hard; one side of Jiang Chuan’s face was still swollen.

“Mr. Wu.”

All three men stood and greeted him.

“Stay here for now. Old Dao will tell you when it’s time to move.” Wu Chen kept one hand in his pocket as he spoke, then tipped his head toward Jiang Chuan. “No need to tie him up anymore. And don’t hit him.”

“Yes, Mr. Wu.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Wu.”

The small man and the man in glasses hurried to answer.

Wu Chen said nothing more.

He left.

No one knew what he and Jiang Chuan had discussed. After Wu Chen was gone, Jiang Chuan’s behavior was strange as well. Without a word he went back into the bedroom and shut the door.

The small man saw Wu Chen out. When he came back he called once through the door, then pushed it open to check on Jiang Chuan.

Jiang Chuan was sitting in the chair, still silent, still weighed down with thought. When the man came in he only glanced at him before staring blankly again, lost in it.

At moments his expression turned agitated. At others, despondent. And at others there was even a trace of hope.

Wu Chen went downstairs and got into his car.

Once seated he called Zhuang Xiaodie first, then pulled out.

Nineteen minutes later.

The exact time was 4:36 in the afternoon.

Near the clothing market in the West District, on Jingyang Avenue, stood the Slow Sip Lounge.

A lounge bar: the relatively quiet sort of bar built around soft music, suited to friends talking or business being discussed.

Wu Chen parked the Lamborghini at the curb outside and went in. He took a seat near the corner on the south side. A server came over at once, but Wu Chen said he was waiting for a friend and ordered nothing.

A few minutes later.

The exact time was 4:39:21 in the afternoon.

A man and a woman came in arm in arm. The man wore a baseball cap; the woman wore a mask. Both were dressed with a certain air of secrecy, as though afraid of being recognized.

They looked extremely close, like husband and wife.

At that moment Wu Chen took out his phone and started recording video. Then he propped it against the candle-shaped decorative lamp that stood on every table, offsetting it slightly so that the camera pointed on a diagonal toward the booth in the farthest corner.

The pair paused after coming in, looked around for a seat, then walked toward Wu Chen.

They sat in the farthest corner booth, right beside his.