Chapter Eleven: At Ease

“If you can leave no trace or evidence behind, you can do whatever you want.” The girl's voice was pure yet icy, devoid of any softness one would expect from someone her age.

Lin Lei curled his lips in response.

Li Xueshu was simply stating the obvious—if he could really manage not to leave a single trace or piece of evidence, why would he need her help at all?

If he unleashed his gluttony, he could easily erase any sign of a corpse…

But in this modern society, with so many cameras and surveillance systems, it was simply impossible to appear before Liu Ping and the others without being caught.

He had no intention of wasting much time on a few thugs; all he wanted was swift revenge to vent the anger burning inside him…

So he asked, “If I can’t avoid leaving traces, what’s the most you can do?”

There was a brief silence, then Li Xueshu’s voice sounded again:

“As long as you don’t kill or cause permanent disability…I can handle it for you.”

“However, I advise you to have a solid reason. Even if you’re an ‘Origin Awakened,’ you can’t act with impunity.”

She didn’t ask whom Lin Lei intended to deal with, whether she already knew or simply didn’t care.

“I understand. I’ll send you the location in a bit…”

He hung up.

This call, in truth, was also a test of the power behind Li Xueshu’s Investigation Bureau, and how much they valued him.

Judging by the results, Lin Lei was quite satisfied.

Perhaps to them, he was worth far more than a few ordinary people.

…

Outside suite 1503 at the Fragrant Delight KTV.

Lin Lei slipped one hand into his pocket, gripping a fruit knife, and used the other to push open the door with a smile.

It had taken him just half an hour by taxi to get here.

Inside the noisy, chaotic private room, smoke hung in the air and the sharp scent of alcohol drifted everywhere.

With a glance, Lin Lei spotted the young man with a wild mop of hair standing before the electronic screen, microphone in hand.

It was Liu Ping.

“What the hell do you want, Lin Lei!” Liu Ping, seeing him enter, tossed the microphone aside and strode over, aiming a kick at him.

Smack.

Lin Lei caught Liu Ping's foot in one palm.

“You bastard!”

Normally, this would have sent Lin Lei sprawling, but this time, he held firm.

Liu Ping's face flushed with anger. “Let go of me!”

“Pathetic.”

With a gentle shove, Lin Lei sent the flustered Liu Ping sprawling to the floor. Then, with a smooth motion, he kicked the door shut behind him.

Click.

The youths smoking and joking around hadn’t yet grasped the gravity of the situation. They burst out laughing at Liu Ping’s humiliation.

Liu Ping scrambled up, his face still red, and charged Lin Lei again: “Damn it, Lin Lei, you got a death wish?”

Lin Lei sneered, withdrew his left hand from his pocket, slipped the sheath off the fruit knife, and revealed the gleaming blade.

Liu Ping froze mid-charge, suddenly losing his balance and crashing to the floor again.

“Lin—Lin Lei…d-don’t do anything rash…”

Now, his face was red not with anger or embarrassment, but with fear.

“Ming, help me…”

He turned to a burly youth with hair as long as Lin Lei’s but dyed completely yellow, who stood among the others. Liu Ping swallowed nervously.

Lin Lei watched with a cold smile, his gaze sweeping over the group, triggering a flood of bitter memories.

Not a single good one.

There were seven people here, and not one of them was decent.

“Well, that puts my mind at ease.”

As Lin Lei’s gaze shifted, none of them could meet his eyes for long. They were nothing but small-time thugs, lacking the courage to face a knife.

“That’s enough.”

With a disdainful chuckle, the yellow-haired youth, Jianming Zhan, shook his head and stepped forward. Though there was wariness in his eyes, he was braver than the others.

He strode past Liu Ping, now sprawled on the floor, and stood before Lin Lei, still carrying himself like a boss.

He was nearly 1.9 meters tall, towering over the 1.7-meter Lin Lei.

With a lit cigarette between his fingers, he sneered, “I’m with the Violet Dragon Crew. I’ve been on the streets for years—what haven’t I seen? You think you can scare us with a fruit knife? You got the guts to stab me?”

He gestured arrogantly at his own abdomen. “Here—go ahead. If you don’t, you’re not a real man!”

Lin Lei met his gaze, smiled again, and stepped forward, driving the blade into the unguarded youth’s abdomen.

A spurt of blood erupted, accompanied by horrified screams.

Lin Lei withdrew the blade, now crimson, and looked at the stunned, pain-wracked Jianming Zhan with a matching sneer.

“You asked for it.”

…

The reason Lin Lei dared to use the knife so decisively was the vast knowledge of human anatomy in his mind.

Just by sizing up Jianming Zhan, he could pinpoint the locations of major organs.

His stab had carefully avoided all vital spots. It would hurt, but not kill.

Of course, if Jianming’s organs were unusually misplaced, that was just bad luck.

Seeing the blood streaming from Jianming Zhan’s waist, Lin Lei licked his lips, feeling much of the darkness and aggression within him ease.

He followed up with a whip-like kick, sending the burly youth flying into a glass coffee table, which shattered with a crash.

Shards of glass flew everywhere, and the others screamed in terror.

Apart from Jianming Zhan, who was a fringe figure in the underworld, the rest were just his hangers-on. None had ever witnessed such violence, and they were instantly paralyzed with fear.

Lin Lei stood by the door, holding the bloodstained knife. Not a single one dared approach.

He licked his lips and walked toward Liu Ping.

“Calm down, Lin Lei, please don’t—”

The blade pierced flesh.

Even a fruit knife, in Lin Lei’s hands, was impossible for these cowards to evade.

Not to mention his enhanced physique—his previous life had also equipped him with impressive combat skills and real-world experience.

Dealing with a few terrified thugs was child’s play.

Five minutes later.

Looking at the group of wounded punks writhing in their own blood, Lin Lei wiped his knife clean. The violence and bloodlust in his mind had been largely appeased.

He felt good.

Jianming Zhan, the ringleader, and the equally detestable Liu Ping had suffered the worst. The others were better off by comparison.

Everyone was in pain, but none would die from their injuries.

Lin Lei put away the fruit knife and stepped out of the private room. Not far down the hall, by the window, he spotted Li Xueshu.

She was perched on the sill, a lollipop in her mouth.

“All done?”

Lin Lei nodded.

“That was quick.” She flashed an OK sign, then whistled. Lin Lei watched as several people in camouflage uniforms rushed up from the first floor, entered the room, and swiftly carried away the wounded boys.

Li Xueshu looked on indifferently, confirming that no one had sustained fatal injuries. She nodded.

“They’ll be sent to a special treatment facility. Afterwards, they’ll sign confidentiality agreements and have suggestions implanted… No one will ever know what happened today.”