Wang Tie rolled onto his side, propped his head on his arm, and thought it over for a moment.
"You're really going tonight?"
"If I wait until tomorrow, he'll realize those seven men aren't coming back."
Lin Feng leaned against the bedboard, holding the sheet of paper covered in names. He read it over and over twice.
Wang Tie sat up and scratched the back of his head. "All right, I'll give you the lowdown. Zhao Tianxiong may look impressive as Deputy Commander, but the truth is..."
He trailed off and held up five fingers.
"Martial Artist Rank 5."
Lin Feng stared at him.
"Rank 5?"
"Yeah, just Rank 5." Wang Tie lowered his voice. "He used to be the Logistics Section Chief at the Provincial Martial Arts Association. His family had connections, and they spent money to get him sent to the Northern Territory to earn some prestige. The Deputy Commander position has nothing to do with fighting. He just manages food, supplies, and provisions."
"The Northern Territory is badly short-staffed. The people up top know he can't fight, but someone has to handle logistics, so they turn a blind eye and let it slide."
Lin Feng folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
"Where's his office?"
"On the east side of Base Camp, in the innermost room on the second floor of the Logistics Department.
"He usually stays there alone after nine at night. There are two guards at the door, both Martial Artist Rank 1."
Wang Tie finished, then added, "But the door to his office is reinforced with alloy. You can't pry it open from the outside."
"I don't need to pry it open."
Lin Feng swung his legs off the bed and strapped his blade to his waist.
"I'll knock."
The corner of Wang Tie's mouth twitched. "You're fucking going to knock?"
"He has to open the door himself."
Lin Feng opened the barracks door, then glanced back.
"Wait for me."
Wang Tie sighed, fished a flask of liquor out from under his bed, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig.
"Fine. I'll warm you some wine."
Ten o'clock at night.
The east side of Base Camp was quiet. Only the patrols' footsteps sounded every few minutes.
Lin Feng had figured out the patrol schedule. During the gap as one team swapped out for another, he crept along the wall to the building housing the Logistics Department.
The window in the innermost room on the second floor was lit.
Two guards leaned against the wall outside the door. One was smoking, while the other looked down at his phone.
Lin Feng didn't use the front entrance.
He circled around the back of the building, planted his foot against the wall, and scrambled up to the second-floor windowsill in a few quick moves.
The window was ajar. Inside, he heard the sound of papers being shuffled.
Lin Feng glanced in.
Zhao Tianxiong sat behind his desk, a stack of documents in front of him. A cigarette was tucked between his fingers as he wrote something in a notebook.
A pot of tea sat on the desk, its contents still steaming.
A military coat hung nearby, its pockets bulging. It most likely held the keys.
Lin Feng pushed the window open and climbed inside.
The sound of his landing wasn't loud, but Zhao Tianxiong still heard him.
He jerked his head up. When he saw Lin Feng standing by the window, the cigarette in his hand nearly fell onto the desk.
"You!"
"Good evening, Adjutant Zhao."
Lin Feng stood there with one hand on his sword hilt, his voice as casual as if he were greeting an acquaintance.
Zhao Tianxiong's face twitched twice. He shot a quick glance toward the door. The two guards were still outside, separated from him by an alloy door.
He forced himself to sit up straight and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"Lin Feng, you made it out of the Rift?"
"I did."
"What about Liu Gang and Zhou Yuan?"
"They're dead."
Zhao Tianxiong tapped his fingers on the desk twice, his expression changing several times.
"There were too many Exotic Beasts? They couldn't hold out?"
"The Exotic Beasts didn't kill them."
Lin Feng took a step forward.
Zhao Tianxiong's back pressed against his chair. His hand stealthily crept toward the drawer.
"I killed them."
The three words fell, and the temperature in the office seemed to drop several degrees.
Zhao Tianxiong's hand stopped.
He stared at Lin Feng.
"Do you know what you're saying? Murdering an Official Guard of the Northern Territory is a capital crime."
"Then what crime is it to send people to assassinate new recruits inside the Rift?"
Zhao Tianxiong didn't answer.
Lin Feng kept walking toward him, neither hurrying nor slowing.
"The seven Martial Artists who blocked me at the Rift entrance are dead too."
Zhao Tianxiong's face went completely rigid.
Seven?
All dead?
The seven Martial Artists he'd paid a fortune to hire had all been wiped out?
"Impossible." Zhao Tianxiong's voice tightened. "You're only a Martial Disciple. How could you—"
"Small-minded fool! I'm Martial Artist Rank 2!" Lin Feng cut him off.
Zhao Tianxiong's pupils contracted sharply.
A Martial Artist?
When the kid had reported to the Northern Territory a few days ago, his file had clearly listed him as Martial Disciple Rank 5.
It had only been a few days. How could he have gone from Martial Disciple Rank 5 to Martial Artist Rank 2?
Unless...
Zhao Tianxiong's mind raced, and a thought suddenly exploded in his head.
"Body Tempering Pills."
He stared at Lin Feng, his voice cracking.
"Were you the one who took that batch of Body Tempering Pills?"
Lin Feng didn't deny it.
Zhao Tianxiong sprang to his feet. His chair slid a meter backward and crashed into the wall.
"Well, well!"
He laughed, but it was an ugly laugh.
"So that's how those two pursuers died so cleanly, and why every Exotic Beast within three kilometers of the Wilderness was wiped out. It was you, you little bastard!"
"A new recruit dares to intercept my shipment as soon as he arrives in the Northern Territory, then uses up every single Body Tempering Pill without saying a word."
"You've got some nerve!"
As he spoke, Zhao Tianxiong pulled a short blade from the drawer.
Its blade was pitch-black and looked to be high quality.
But the hand gripping it was shaking badly.
Lin Feng looked at the blade, his expression unchanged.
"Adjutant Zhao, I advise you to put that blade down."
"Go to hell!" Zhao Tianxiong roared and lunged at him.
By military standards, he was fast.
But to Lin Feng, he moved in slow motion.
Lin Feng couldn't even be bothered to draw his sword.
He dodged the slash, caught Zhao Tianxiong's hand with his left, and twisted it outward.
Crack.
The snap of his wrist bone breaking rang out clearly.
Zhao Tianxiong screamed. The short blade flew from his hand, embedded itself in the wall, and vibrated there for several moments.
Lin Feng shoved him forward. Zhao Tianxiong slammed into the desk, sweeping the teapot, documents, and ashtray onto the floor with a clatter.
Clutching his broken hand, Zhao Tianxiong slumped to the ground, all the color drained from his face.
"You dare touch me? I'm the Deputy Commander! Touching me is treason!"
"Treason?"
Lin Feng crouched down to meet his eyes.
"Selling military supplies, withholding compensation from new recruits' families, and secretly keeping the Body Tempering Pills allocated by the Provincial Martial Arts Association. If these things come to light, who do you think will be branded a traitor?"
Zhao Tianxiong's lips trembled. He couldn't get a word out.
"Zhou Yuan told me everything before he died." Lin Feng reached out and pulled the string of keys from around Zhao Tianxiong's neck.
"The third drawer. Hidden compartment, right?"
Zhao Tianxiong's face crumpled completely.
Lin Feng stood up, walked around behind the desk, and opened the third drawer.
A layer of false panel covered the bottom. Lin Feng turned the hidden lock beside it with a key, and the panel sprang open, revealing what lay inside.
A palm-sized black notebook and a stack of bank transfer slips.
Lin Feng opened the notebook. Dates, quantities, amounts, and buyers were densely recorded inside.
Body Tempering Pills, Energy Recovery Pills, ammunition, high-grade Healing Pills... The list of supplies was outrageous.
Each transaction was marked with a code corresponding to a different buyer in the Provincial Capital.
The earliest entry went back three years.
"Three years." Lin Feng closed the notebook and weighed the stack of transfer slips in his hand.
"How much have you sold off in three years?"
Zhao Tianxiong lay on the ground, trembling all over. He refused to say a word.
Lin Feng didn't ask a second time.
He drew his long blade and pressed the tip against Zhao Tianxiong's throat.
"I have a question for you."
"Those new recruits who died on the front lines should have been given Healing Pills and ammunition. Because you sold the supplies, they went up onto the city walls empty-handed."
"How many of them died?"
Zhao Tianxiong curled into a ball on the floor, making muffled, whimpering noises.
"You don't have to tell me."
Lin Feng withdrew the blade and stood up.
"Everything's written in this notebook anyway."
He tucked the notebook and slips into his clothes, then turned toward the window.
Zhao Tianxiong suddenly scrambled up from the floor and lunged toward the door.
"Hel—"
He hadn't even finished the word when the blade flashed.
Zhao Tianxiong froze in place, a thin line appearing across his neck.
The line slowly turned red, and beads of blood trickled down one by one.
His mouth hung open, but all that came from his throat was the sound of bubbles popping.
Then he pitched forward and crashed onto the floor, unmoving.
[Target eliminated: Zhao Tianxiong] [Steel of the Blade: 84/500]
Lin Feng sheathed his sword and climbed out through the window.
From the moment he entered until the moment he left, less than three minutes had passed.
The two guards outside were still in place. One had just finished smoking and was looking for his lighter, while the glow of the other's phone lit up his face. Neither had even looked up.
Back at the barracks.
Wang Tie was still awake, just as he'd promised. He leaned against the headboard, his flask already half empty.
When Lin Feng opened the door and came in, Wang Tie first glanced at the scabbard. It was clean, with no blood on it.
"Did you get it done?"
Lin Feng tossed the black notebook and transfer slips from inside his clothes onto Wang Tie's bed.
Wang Tie picked them up and flipped through a couple of pages. The more he read, the darker his expression grew.
"That bastard had skimmed more than eight million in supplies over three years? Last winter, over fifty men on the front line never got their batch of healing pills. Nineteen froze to death or died in battle. So he'd sold them?"
He slapped the notebook onto the bedboard. His voice was low, but the veins in his hand stood out.
"Where's Zhao Tianxiong?"
"Dead."
Wang Tie fell silent for a few seconds.
"Then what are you going to do with all this?"
"Tomorrow morning, I'll hand it over to Chen Lie."
"Instructor Chen?" Wang Tie frowned. "Does he have enough clout?"
"He's a veteran of the Northern Territory. He lost an arm here. He won't be in cahoots with Zhao Tianxiong. Besides..."
Lin Feng lay back down and set his knife beside his pillow.
"He's backed by the Commander-in-Chief of the Seventh Defense Line. There's no way the Commander-in-Chief hadn't heard rumors about Zhao Tianxiong selling off supplies. He just didn't have proof."
"Now he does."
Wang Tie nodded, neatly stacked the notebook and receipts, and handed them back to Lin Feng.
"All right. You sure know how to get things done."
He took a swig of liquor, hesitated, then spoke again.
"But have you thought about this? Zhao Tianxiong had connections in the Provincial Capital. Now that he's dead, they won't let this go."
Lin Feng closed his eyes.
"By the time people from the Provincial Capital come looking, I won't be the same person I am now."
Wang Tie opened his mouth, then said nothing.
On the bed next to them, Li Ming rolled over and muttered something in his sleep before drifting off again.
The Base Camp was quiet, as if nothing had happened.
Early the next morning.
Lin Feng took his lunchbox to the Canteen half an hour earlier than usual.
Chen Lie was there, just as expected.
The one-armed instructor sat alone in a corner, with two steamed buns and a bowl of porridge before him. He ate slowly.
Lin Feng walked over and sat down across from him.
Chen Lie looked up at him. His chewing stopped.
"Up this early?"
Lin Feng pulled the black notebook and stack of receipts from inside his coat, set them on the table, and pushed them over.
"What's this?"
"The account book and transfer records of Zhao Tianxiong's three years of selling off military supplies."
Chen Lie's hand hovered in midair. The bun fell into his porridge, splashing a few drops.
He looked down at the black notebook on the table but didn't reach for it right away.
"Where's Zhao Tianxiong?"
"Dead in his office."
Chen Lie's eyebrows twitched twice.
He slowly set down his chopsticks, picked up the notebook, and opened it.
When he reached the third page, his hand stopped.
At the seventh page, his breathing grew heavier.
At the fifteenth page, he shut the notebook.
"That batch of medicine from last November." Chen Lie's voice was low, but his words brimmed with fury.
"Six of my men died. The youngest was only seventeen. He was wounded, but there was no medicine. He was left to suffer for two whole days and died right in front of me."
"I went to Zhao Tianxiong for help. He said nothing had been allocated from above."
Chen Lie clutched the notebook in his hand, gripping it tightly.
"Nothing allocated? Damn it, he sold all three hundred healing pills for 2.4 million."
Lin Feng said nothing.
Chen Lie took a deep breath, tucked the notebook inside his coat, and stood up.
"I'll handle this. Go back and wait for news. Don't go anywhere today."
He took two steps, then stopped and looked back at Lin Feng.
"Can you handle Zhao Tianxiong's men?"
"I can."
Chen Lie nodded and strode out of the Canteen.
Lin Feng picked up his lunchbox and started breakfast.
Halfway through his meal, a commotion broke out at the Canteen entrance.
Someone ran in shouting, "Something's happened at the Logistics Department! Adjutant Zhao is dead in his office! There's a cut across his neck, and the blood's dried!"
The Canteen erupted.
Lin Feng lowered his head, picked up a piece of pickled vegetable, and put it in his mouth.
The commotion at the entrance grew louder.
Several people from the Logistics Department rushed in. The one leading them was a burly, bearded man. He scanned the Canteen, then fixed his eyes on Lin Feng.
"Lin Feng!"
The bearded man walked over and swept Lin Feng's lunchbox off the table.
"Did you have anything to do with Adjutant Zhao's death?"
Before you continue