Inside the quiet, secluded warehouse.
The center of the warehouse, which should have been cold and empty, was instead cluttered with broken appliances and toppled iron shelves scattered across the floor.
Crack!
The crisp sound of bone breaking instantly snapped Gene Lee out of his daze.
It must be noted.
From the moment Andrew Han erupted in fury and began beating Jack Wu, Gene Lee hadn’t been able to react. Andrew’s presence was truly terrifying, like a ferocious beast unleashed.
Though he was a Fourth Rank martial artist, even Gene Lee felt uneasy and didn’t dare step forward to intervene.
A couple of hits—so be it. He couldn’t hope to compete with this masked youth, who was likely a Third Rank martial artist. It was easy to tell he was young from his build and voice.
However.
Gene Lee never expected that the masked youth would actually kill Jack Wu.
Gulp.
Gene Lee tried to swallow to calm himself, but couldn’t. His mouth was too dry.
He staggered back two steps, staring at Jack Wu lying three to five meters away. Jack’s eyes were wide open like a dead fish, his neck twisted unnaturally, and blood was seeping out.
Th-this…
Gene Lee was terrified.
What was happening? Was he trapped in a nightmare? He and Jack Wu had only come to take a look at the warehouse before its ownership was transferred, yet disaster had struck.
On the other side.
Andrew Han stared blankly at Jack Wu, loosening his left hand.
His short hair, face, and plain white T-shirt were all splattered with bright, vivid blood—wet and warm.
Thud.
He vaguely felt a soft, tender little face pressed against his own. Those bright, carefree eyes radiated pure joy—whenever Lucy Han saw her brother, she was happy for no reason at all.
Brother.
Lucy Han’s pitiful eyes sparkled with longing and hunger, but she covered her mouth tightly: 'Eat, brother! I’m not hungry. I don’t want you to starve.'
...
I said—
Don’t run.
Can you stop running?!
Andrew Han suddenly lifted his head, his eyes flickering with a phantom gray-white color. He felt a mental restraint shatter completely, unleashing a chaotic flood of emotion.
Restraints shattered!
Limits collapsed!
The volcano hidden deep within his heart collapsed and exploded, like a raging inferno burning everything in its path!
Boom!
Andrew Han’s blood surged, power erupted, and he shot toward the Fourth Rank martial artist—Gene Lee!
Gene Lee dodged around iron shelves piled with rice cookers and microwaves, running deeper into the warehouse.
He wanted to run.
Bang!
Andrew Han raised both arms in front of him, charging forward recklessly like an iron wall, and crashed headlong into the shelf stacked with appliances—sending it crashing down!
Rumble!
The shelf toppled to the other side, and nearly a hundred rice cookers and microwaves tumbled to the floor, scattering in chaos.
Gene Lee stopped and dove into the pile of appliances.
The pile of appliances was mostly color TVs, sound systems, and speakers, stacked over three meters high on the floor.
He still wanted to run.
Rumble!
Andrew Han dove headfirst into the pile of appliances, his fists like sledgehammers breaking through the clutter. He smashed a dent into the pile, flipping over dozens of dusty old TVs, ignoring the swirling dust, and finally grabbed Gene Lee’s right arm.
Run! Go ahead and run!
Why don’t you run now?!
Andrew Han took a step back, yanked Gene Lee out, then grabbed his head and lifted it forcefully upward.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment.
Gene Lee’s body was still airborne, but his head was gripped by Andrew Han, as if a towering mountain had collapsed—he was slammed down onto the warehouse floor!
Bang!
A dull, heavy thud echoed through the warehouse.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Andrew Han’s hands were like iron clamps, gripping Gene Lee’s head as all his strength erupted. He slammed it against the concrete floor again and again—each blow clearing his mind, each blow leaving him with no regrets, each blow utterly satisfying!
If you want to destroy the reunion I’m trying to protect—
Then die.
Die.
...
A long time passed.
Andrew Han was exhausted from the beating. He released Gene Lee’s head, looked at the motionless Gene Lee, then glanced around the dim, chaotic warehouse.