Chapter 106: Saving a Life

Both emissaries approached Song Qingzhu with murderous intent etched deeply on their faces.

Song Qingzhu swayed as she rose to her feet.

She wore a flowing emerald gown, its hem trailing elegantly on the floor, exuding an air of regal grace.

“Messengers… you… you’ve come…” Song Qingzhu greeted them with a smile, a glass of red wine in hand, gently swirling it.

“Yes, we have come—to see you on your final journey,” the portly envoy said with a smile that seemed more courteous than threatening.

“Song Qingzhu, your time has expired. You failed to complete the mission assigned by the organization. Assessment failed; you shall be executed according to your crimes!” the lean messenger declared coldly.

“I know… I know… no need to explain so much,” Song Qingzhu slurred, waving her hand dismissively. “Failing the mission makes me worthless. The organization cannot tolerate failures. So what if I die? I am ready.”

Her eyes then sharpened with resolve. “But I will not go quietly to my death. After all the training the organization has given me, it would be a waste not to resist!”

The portly messenger’s face darkened instantly. “I warn you, don’t engage in reckless defiance!”

“Even if death is inevitable, I will die with honor!” Song Qingzhu’s gaze cleared, her speech became more precise, and she stood tall like a taut arrow ready to be released.

“Whoosh—”

She hurled the glass towards the two emissaries.

“Useless!” the portly envoy said coldly, swiftly drawing a steel blade that shattered the glass with a crisp snap.

But at the next moment, a sharp whistle filled the air as over a dozen silver needles flew towards them.

Half aimed at the portly messenger, half at the lean one.

The portly emissary snorted disdainfully, spinning his blade with a clang that sent the needles clattering harmlessly to the floor.

The lean emissary stood still, waiting until the needles nearly reached him before bending sharply backward. The needles grazed his chest and embedded themselves with a metallic pinging against the wall.

Song Qingzhu’s signature move was effortlessly neutralized.

Yet when they looked up, Song Qingzhu had vanished.

Turning quickly, they saw her sprinting towards the window.

“Do you think you can escape?” the portly messenger sneered and gave chase.

Despite his bulk, he moved with surprising agility, swiftly closing in to grab at the back of her collar.

The rush of wind filled Song Qingzhu’s ears, despair surging within her—she knew it was truly over.

She was about to meet the King of Hell.

But suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted all around.

Every door and window shattered in an instant as dozens of armed men stormed inside, even descending from the skylight, their battle cries deafening as they surrounded the two emissaries.

Though fierce, these men were ordinary; the portly and lean emissaries dispatched them with brutal efficiency, sending them flying with a series of heavy blows. The room echoed with agonized screams.

Yet their numbers were overwhelming and relentless, making it impossible to clear them out quickly.

“Song Qingzhu, you have some nerve, calling people to attack us!” the portly emissary growled furiously.

As president of the Golden Sun Group, Song Qingzhu’s position was precarious, but she still commanded enough loyalty to muster some followers.

However, these newcomers were not sent by her.

Confused, Song Qingzhu stared at the sudden crowd, utterly baffled.

Chaos engulfed the room as more people poured in.

The emissaries, though dismissive of the attackers, could not fend them all off at once.

Ignoring the crowd, they charged straight at Song Qingzhu.

“Why are you standing there? Run!” a voice shouted from outside the window.

Song Qingzhu turned to see a black Mercedes idling nearby, with Lin Qi inside.

Without hesitation, she climbed out the window and into the car.

The portly and lean emissaries leapt out after her.

As they closed in, Lin Qi slammed on the accelerator, the engine roaring as the car sped away from the scene.

“Song Qingzhu, you won’t escape!” the portly emissary bellowed, brandishing his steel blade at the villa’s gate.

The lean emissary squinted, memorizing the car’s license plate.

A clatter of footsteps announced the crowd surging out of the villa once more, shouting and charging after the two.

“A bunch of scum, and they dare defy us?” the portly emissary fumed, drawing his blade to unleash slaughter.

“Don’t waste time on them; if we attract the special forces, it’ll only cause more trouble. Let’s go!” the lean emissary urged, disappearing swiftly into the opposite bushes.

The portly emissary reluctantly sheathed his blade and vanished without a trace alongside his comrade.