The Airport Reception and Parking Lot Standoff

As you step out of the automatic glass door at customs, which marks the end of the "controlled area," the noise level suddenly rises to a whole new level.

The arrival hall was bustling with people, a mix of shouts in various languages, hugs of reunion, and the sound of suitcase wheels rolling on the ground. The air was filled with the complex aromas of coffee, fast food, and countless perfumes and body odors.

A huge electronic screen scrolled through incoming information, and the bright lights distorted everyone's faces.

Lin Feng's gaze swept calmly across the crowd; almost without searching, his eyes locked onto a sudden "vacuum zone" ahead.

In the center of the area, crowded with eagerly waiting passengers, drivers holding signs, and bustling travelers, seven or eight men in well-tailored, crisp black suits stood like rocks.

They were between thirty and forty years old, and without exception, they were tall and strong, their bulging muscles visible even through their suits. Their postures were not entirely uniform; some had their hands hanging naturally at their sides, while others had their arms slightly crossed. But each of them carried a sharpness and alertness that had been honed through rigorous training and was difficult to conceal.

Their gazes were calm, yet like radar, they silently scanned everyone passing by. Wherever their eyes fell, ordinary passengers picking up passengers would subconsciously keep their distance, creating an aura that no one dared to approach easily.

The leader was K. He was also dressed in a black suit, but his demeanor was more reserved and profound, lacking the outward ferocity of the men beside him, and possessing a more cold and controlling air. When he saw Lin Feng and Lü Yi emerge, he immediately strode forward, his steps steady and powerful. Behind him, a mercenary in similar attire, with a stern face, followed half a step, like a shadow.

"Boss, you must be tired from your journey." K stopped two steps away from Lin Feng, nodded slightly, and spoke in a low, steady voice. At the same time, the mercenary beside him naturally reached out and took the suitcases from Lin Feng and Lü Yi, his movements swift and decisive.

Lin Feng nodded, his gaze sweeping over K and the group of men in black suits behind him. His expression remained unreadable as he casually asked, "Is everything arranged here?"

"Yes, boss. The car is outside, and the accommodations are ready," K replied succinctly.

At this moment, Lin Feng's gaze seemed to pass over K's shoulder and land on the crowd in the arrival hall in the distance, some hurried, some joyful, some tired, some anxious, yet it was as if he saw nothing at all. He was silent for a second or two, then spoke in an almost soliloquy, flat tone, devoid of any discernible emotion:

"The journey hasn't been too smooth."

He paused, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips, and added:

"However, I've actually come to like it here."

His gaze returned to K's face, and he uttered the last three words:

"Freedom and democracy."

He paused, as if choosing a more fitting word, and then slowly uttered:

"Confusion."

The voice wasn't loud; only K, Lü Yi, and the mercenary carrying the luggage could hear it. K's expression remained unchanged, though a glint seemed to flash deep in his eyes. Lü Yi grinned, clearly agreeing with the boss's assessment.

The mercenary beside him, who was taking the luggage, twitched his ears slightly, raised his eyelids, and quickly but discreetly glanced at Lin Feng —was this the "boss's boss"? He seemed calm and even somewhat refined, quite different from the imaginary, ostentatious big shot surrounded by entourages. But he quickly lowered his gaze, dismissing these irrelevant thoughts. They were just doing their jobs for money; what their boss looked like was none of their concern. They just needed to do their job.

"Let's go." Lin Feng said no more.

K stepped aside, gesturing for them to proceed. Lin Feng led the way, with Lü Yi and K following behind on either side, and the mercenary carrying the luggage beside K.

The group of men in black suits who had been standing quietly moved almost simultaneously. They adjusted their positions in unison, forming a loose but subtly protective formation around the three men, and followed silently behind them.

The group walked silently through the noisy arrival hall, their steps synchronized, their aura imposing, drawing sidelong glances from the crowd on both sides, who quickly moved away.

They passed through an automatic door and entered a closed corridor connecting the terminal and the parking lot. The corridor was dimly lit, poorly ventilated, and a little cooler than the main hall. Their footsteps echoed on the polished floor, adding to the oppressive silence.

As we approached the end of the corridor, the glass doors leading to the open-air parking lot became clearly visible.

Just then--

"Squeak--Crunch!!!"

A screeching, teeth-grinding screech of tires came out of the glass door without warning, followed by two dull thuds, as if something had come to an abrupt stop and collided.

The glass doors slid open automatically to both sides.

Two cars with mottled paint and outdated design, a dark blue Chevrolet Impala and a faded red Dodge Caravan, sped out from the left and right at an extremely tricky and provocative angle, stopping right in the driveway in front of the corridor exit, completely blocking the road leading to the parking lot!

The car doors were shoved open and slammed shut almost simultaneously.

"Bang! Bang!"

Seven or eight figures filed out of the two cars. They were all black men, dressed in a mixed style, some wearing loose hoodies, some wearing tattered leather jackets, and most wearing baseball caps or bandanas. Their faces showed undisguised ferocity and ruthlessness. They quickly gathered together, their eyes all fixed on Lin Feng and his group who had just walked out of the corridor.

Lin Feng did not stop walking, nor did he change his pace at all. He simply looked calmly at the group of uninvited guests.

Lü Yi narrowed his eyes. He recognized two of the guys—the bald man and the dreadlocked man he had taken down on the tarmac earlier! The bald man's face was still contorted with pain and sweat, and he instinctively clutched his lower abdomen, but the venom in his eyes was almost spitting out. The dreadlocked man had a noticeable black eye and his nose seemed a little crooked. He was pointing at Lü Yi through gritted teeth and speaking urgently to a black man who looked like a leader standing at the front.

The leader, a Black man, was the tallest and most muscular. He wore a dirty football jacket, had a nearly shaved head, a menacing snake tattoo on his neck, and a sinister look in his eyes.

He listened to his men's (the bald man and the dreadlocks) accusations, his gaze sweeping over Lin Feng, Lü Yi, and the group of men in black suits behind them. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly when he saw K and the mercenaries, but it was quickly replaced by a more intense ruthlessness. He nodded, a sinister smile spreading across his face, and, with six or seven accomplices behind him, approached Lin Feng and his companions with deliberately slowed, intimidating steps.

The distance between the two sides closed rapidly.

The group of Black people walked along, hurling insults and discriminatory slang at each other, including numerous offensive slang terms and discriminatory words against Asians. They communicated with each other through glances and expressions, their faces filled with mockery, contempt, and an arrogant "we've got you covered" attitude. Two Black people at the back even had the leisure to whisper and chuckle.

"Look at those guys from Great East, their legs must be shaking by now, right?"

"Hehe, I bet they want to cry for their mom right now."

"How dare this yellow-skinned Monkey run wild here? Doesn't it know whose territory this is!"

The tattooed, burly man leading the group walked until he was less than two meters away from Lin Feng and Lü Yi, a distance that violated normal social distancing and was full of provocation.

He stared down at Lü Yi (he was indeed much taller and stronger than Lü Yi), then glanced at Lin Feng. He spewed out a string of vulgarities in heavily accented English, a mixture of threats, insults, and self-introduction (the Wild Dog Gang). At the same time, he raised his right hand, extended his index finger, and thrust it directly at Lü Yi's chest—a brutal and rude gesture, clearly intended to humiliate and provoke him through physical contact.

Just a moment before his fingers were about to touch Lü Yi's clothes.

Lü Yi made a move.

He didn't retreat or block; instead, he swiftly reached out and grabbed the other person's outstretched index finger with incredible precision!

The movements were so fast that they almost left afterimages.

The tattooed, burly man was taken aback, clearly not expecting the other party to react so quickly and dare to attack directly.

The next second, Lü Yi grabbed the other person's index finger and twisted it sharply in the opposite direction!

"Snap!"

A chilling cracking sound rang out at the entrance to the somewhat empty parking lot.

"Ah--!!!" The tattooed burly man let out a scream that was not human. His face twisted instantly. The immense pain made him subconsciously bend over and use his other hand to tightly cover his finger, which was bent at an eerie angle.

Without pausing, Lü Yi's right leg, like a whip brimming with power, lashed out from below between the opponent's legs the instant the opponent bent over in pain and opened wide!

"Bang!"

Another muffled thud. The tattooed burly man's screams abruptly stopped, as if he had been choked. His eyes bulged out, his mouth was wide open enough to fit a fist, but he couldn't make a sound. His whole body seemed to have been ripped out of its bones, and he slumped backward slowly, curling up on the ground, leaving only the unconscious twitching of his body and the hoarse gasping sounds from his throat.

This series of events happened too fast; from the moment the burly leader reached out to the moment he fell to the ground, only two or three seconds had passed. The Wild Dog Gang members behind him were all stunned. The sneers and mockery on their faces froze instantly, replaced by astonishment, confusion, and a rapidly rising rage.

"Fuck!"

"What did he do?!"

"Boss!"

The group realized what was happening and roared as they charged forward.

However, they froze as soon as they took a step.

Because the men in black suits who had been standing silently behind Lin Feng and his companions, like shadows, suddenly moved.

Without shouts or warnings, the eight "Blood Spear" mercenaries, like a well-trained wolf pack, instantly scattered and advanced, their movements swift and coordinated. In less than two seconds, they formed a loose yet completely encircling formation of the seven Wild Dog Gang members (excluding the fallen leader). Their seemingly random positioning blocked all possible routes for the enemy to attack or escape.

What made these members of the Wild Dog Gang almost freeze in their blood was --

As the men in black suits completed their encirclement, their right hands almost uniformly reached inside their suit jackets, and then...

"Swish--"

A slight rustling sound of fabric.

Eight gleaming black MP5 submachine guns, compact in design and covered with tactical rails and accessories, were held steadily in their hands. The dark muzzles of each gun were coldly pointed at the Wild Dog Gang surrounded in the middle!

The muzzle was slightly lowered, pointing towards the vital area of the torso—a deadly and difficult-to-avoid shooting angle. The hand holding the gun was steady without the slightest tremor, the finger lightly resting on the trigger guard, the eyes indifferent, as if looking at a herd of livestock awaiting slaughter.

The air at the parking lot entrance seemed to have been completely sucked out at that moment.

The Wild Dog Gang members froze on the spot, still in their charging or shouting positions. The rage and ferocity on their faces receded like the tide, leaving only boundless horror and fear. They looked at the expressionless men in black suits around them, each holding a deadly weapon, and then at their leader still convulsing in pain on the ground. A chill ran from the soles of their feet to the top of their heads.

Although they usually wield weapons, they mostly use small-caliber pistols, shotguns, or machetes. They've never seen anything like this before. Eight standard-issue submachine guns, and in such a well-trained and menacing manner—this is nothing like a street gang fight!

The tattooed burly man (a minor leader of the Wild Dog Gang) had caught his breath slightly. The excruciating pain had clouded his senses, but his survival instinct and awareness of danger made him struggle to lift his head. When he saw the eight submachine guns pointed at his men, his pupils shrank to pinpoints, and the last trace of color drained from his face.

He endured the excruciating pain in his fingers and genitals that nearly made him faint, and with his still-mobile hand, he shakily reached for his waist—where there was a bulge, clearly indicating that something was tucked away.

He wanted to draw his gun. It was his last and only source of strength and courage.