Yun Hanchuan never expected to encounter an ambush on this remote mountain road.
A convoy of three black Land Rovers was traveling along a narrow winding mountain road, with steep cliffs on the right and a hundred-meter-deep precipice on the left. Yun Hanchuan was sitting in the backseat of the second vehicle, reviewing the feasibility report for the Qing Shan Ao project. Suddenly, the radio crackled with an urgent warning from the lead vehicle's bodyguard:
"Be careful! There's an obstacle ahead!"
Almost simultaneously, two unplated vans rushed out from both directions, pinning the convoy between them. Yun Hancun instinctively tensed his muscles before the vehicle shook violently due to the sudden event. His instincts after the years of danger he experienced instantly told him—this is no accident.
"Bang!"
The first gunshot shattered the tranquility of the mountains.
"Lin's people?" Yun Hancun asked calmly, simultaneously unbuckling his seatbelt. His voice showed no tremor, as if he was just discussing an ordinary contract.
Cheng Yan, sitting in the front passenger seat, had already drawn his service weapon, beads of sweat dropping down on his forehead: "I'm not sure, but it's likely." He clenched his teeth, "Mr. Yun, we've been set up. There's a betrayer in the board of directors."
Another bullet shot the rear window, shattering the bulletproof glass into a spiderweb pattern. Yun Hanchuan didn't hesitate, flinging open the door before the third gunshot and rolling behind a massive rock by the roadside. Cheng Yan followed closely behind, his suit was torn open by sharp rocks.
The two exchanged a glance from five meters apart. Years of tacit understanding allowed them to devise a plan without words—Cheng Yan would draw fire, while Yun Hanchuan would flank and counterattack.
Gunfire echoed throughout the valley, startling a flock of birds. Yun Hanchuan moved along the mountain wall like a lurking leopard. His leather shoes made almost no sound on the gravel, and his breathing was eerily steady. The first gunman was reloading his magazine with his back to him. Yun Hanchuan lunged forward, delivering a precise knife strike to the man's carotid artery. The man collapsed to the ground without even a whimper.
As the second gunman turned to investigate the commotion, Yun Hanchuan's fist already struck his temple with force. The blow was enough to render an adult male unconscious for three hours. Yun Hanchuan picked up the gun the man had dropped, his movements was as fluid as if he had practiced them a thousand times.
"Mr. Yun, watch out on the left!" Cheng Yan's warning echoed from the distance.
Yun Hanchuan instinctively sidestepped, but the bullet still grazed his left shoulder, soaking his suit in blood. The excruciating pain shot through his body like an electric current, but his expression remained unchanged. He raised his hand and fired two shots, precisely hitting the knees of the gunman thirty meters away.
"Four left," Yun Hanchuan calmly assessed the situation while reloading his magazine. Blood trickled down his arm, leaving a small dark red stain on the stones.
Cheng Yan, with a wound on his forehead, panted heavily as he ran over to join him: "Mr. Yun, there are too many of them! And they're clearly well-prepared—our distress signal has been jammed."
Yun Hanchuan narrowed his eyes at the distant mountains, where several unnatural light points glinted—these are…the reflections of sniper scopes. He quickly pulled Cheng Yan behind an ancient pine tree. The next second, the spot where they had been standing was hit by bullets, sending dust flying.
"Withdraw," Yun Hanchuan ordered succinctly. "Head into the forest."
The two used the terrain for cover as they retreated into the dense cedar forest. The gunfire grew faint, but the danger was far from over. Yun Hanchuan had three injuries—on his left shoulder, right abdomen, and left calf—with blood seeping out, staining his expensive suit into dark red; Cheng Yan wasn't much better off, with a bullet graze on his right leg, limping as he walked.
"There's a house over there," Cheng Yan pointed to a solitary wooden cabin halfway up the mountain, his voice was weak from blood loss.
Yun Hanchuan nodded, and the two supported each other as they made their way toward the cabin. With each step, Yun Hanchuan felt his vitality slipping away, and the scenery before him began to darken. He clenched his teeth, and forced himself to stay awake—after years of struggling in the business world, he had long learned to channel pain into motivation.
As the wooden door creaked open with a sharp "squeak," a mix of herbal and hay-like scents wafted toward them. The interior was neater than expected: a simple bed covered with straw, a rough wooden table, piles of dried herbs in the corner, and several strings of dried mushrooms and chili peppers hanging on the wall.
Cheng Yan helped Yun Hanchuan sit down by the wall, just as he was about to have him lie down on the bed to rest, a white figure suddenly darted out from under the bed.
A snow-white cat stood in the center of the bed, its fur standing on end, its golden eyes fixed warily on the two intruders. Its tail was held high, and it emitted a low growl from its throat, forming a stark contrast to its petite frame.
"Go away!" Cheng Yan tried to shoo it away, but the white cat deftly jumped onto the table and continued to stare at them, showing no intention of backing down.
"Forget it," Yun Hancun said weakly, his voice hoarse from blood loss. "Let me sit against the wall."
Cheng Yan had no choice but to help him sit against the wall, then began examining the wounds. "Just graze shot, but severe blood loss." He pulled out his phone, but the signal bar was empty. "Damn it… no signal at all."
Yun Hanchuan closed his eyes to rest, his face as pale as paper. Sweat soaked through his shirt, clinging to his lean waist and abdomen. The light from outside cast varying shades of shadow on his sharply defined face, outlining a sharp jawline.
"I tried sending a distress signal, but I'm not sure if it went through," Cheng Yan said in a low voice, tearing off the hem of his own shirt to bandage Yun Hancun. "Hold on, help should be here soon."
Yun Hanchuan nodded slightly, but his consciousness was beginning to fade. He forced himself to stay awake. His gaze fell on the pile of herbs in the corner—the plants were arranged in an unusually neat manner, as if they had been carefully categorized. This seemingly crude wooden hut revealed the extraordinary attention to detail of its owner in every corner.
Outside the window, the mountain wind howled past, sweeping up a few dry leaves that clattered against the windowpanes. In the distance, the alert barking of a small black dog grew louder and closer…