Chapter 19: He Tian’s Truest Self

He Tian had always placed immense faith in his ability to control matters within his own country—especially when mobilizing both the National Security and Military Intelligence agencies. For minor issues, these powerful resources were never to be wasted. But this time, none of that mattered to He Tian. In order to hunt down the gunman, he deployed some assets from both agencies, and no one dared object. In short, Dragon Soul’s privileges were vast.

The information He Tian received pointed him to Room 3055 at the Huitong Grand Hotel.

He Tian arrived on the thirtieth floor, stopping outside room fifty-five. By now, his appearance was completely unremarkable—a face so ordinary that anyone glancing his way would remember nothing. This was the look He Tian wore on missions.

The door posed no obstacle; he slipped inside with a swift motion. Immediately, a rush of wind signaled an attack. He Tian reached out, his energy flowing, and caught the leg aimed at him. With a slight twist and a resounding crash, his assailant was thrown to the floor. He Tian stepped forward, one foot pressing firmly on the attacker’s head, and reached out to flick on the light.

The room brightened.

“Friend, what is the meaning of this?” Zhang Tong’s mind raced—he knew he’d been found.

“The meaning? Don’t you know what you’ve done? Get up and talk!” He Tian removed his foot, unconcerned about any escape attempt.

No sooner was the pressure relieved than Zhang Tong lunged, aiming straight for He Tian’s back. “Overestimating yourself,” He Tian muttered, spinning with lightning speed to seize Zhang Tong by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Zhang Tong’s face flushed red; he clawed and kicked, unable to break free, close to suffocating. He Tian turned and flung him aside.

“If you try anything else, you won’t get off so lightly.” He Tian sat down with an air of command, gazing at the crumpled figure on the floor.

“I admit defeat. Who are you? What do you want to know?” Zhang Tong composed himself, realizing that with his adversary’s strength and the fact he’d been tracked down, there was no chance of resistance.

“My identity doesn’t matter. Answer my questions and I guarantee your safety,” He Tian said expressionlessly. “Your name?”

“Zhang Tong,” he replied, fear in his eyes. Zhang Tong had killed his share of people and was no coward, but he dared not meet He Tian’s gaze.

“You’re an assassin?”

“Yes.”

“Domestic or foreign?”

“Foreign. There’s no way for assassins to survive in this country.”

“How many of you came?”

“Just me.”

“What happens if you fail the mission?”

Zhang Tong hesitated, then looked at He Tian. “In our line, unless the higher-ups cancel the contract and pay the penalty fee, the attempts will keep coming.”

“Endless attempts? Very well.” He Tian’s lips curled into a cold smile. To be targeted by assassins meant that even if you escaped once, another attempt would follow—especially when the contract price was high. Clearly, the organization behind this had received a substantial reward.

“I can report back and cancel the mission,” Zhang Tong offered cautiously. Suffering He Tian’s power firsthand, he didn’t want to bring disaster upon his organization because of himself.

“Do you have the authority to cancel?” He Tian’s voice deepened. “Enough nonsense. Does your boss know who commissioned the hit?”

“I don’t know,” Zhang Tong replied, shaking his head.

“Your organization’s location?” He Tian pressed on, aware it wouldn’t be easy to uncover the mastermind, but he had to try. This was a message for the entire underworld: think twice before accepting such contracts.

“I don’t know.” Zhang Tong shook his head again.

He Tian wasn’t surprised. If a hired killer could be persuaded so easily, it would be extraordinary. Assassins had their own code. But to He Tian, any code was made to be broken—it was only a matter of strength. And he now possessed that strength.

With He Tian’s control, Zhang Tong was led out of the Huitong Grand Hotel, the sniper rifle taken as well. As for the hotel’s connection to Zhang Tong, that would become clear in time.

At the back entrance, a group of security guards led by a man in a suit blocked their path.

“Where do you think you’re taking our guest?” demanded the suited man.

He Tian glanced at the group, his gaze settling on the leader’s name tag: “Lobby Manager, Wu Hao.”

“That’s right. Care to explain? We are responsible for the safety of every guest who stays at the Huitong Grand Hotel,” Wu Hao said, sizing up He Tian. Despite racking his brains, he couldn’t place this stranger.

“And if I insist on leaving with him?” He Tian’s voice was icy.

“There’s no need for this, my friend. Do you know who owns this hotel? You’re not in charge here,” Wu Hao replied, emboldened by the hotel’s formidable backing.

“Oh? And who owns it?” He Tian asked, intrigued.

“It belongs to Young Master Hai of Tianhai,” Wu Hao declared with pride.

“Young Master Hai?” He Tian mused. It seemed fate kept crossing their paths—wherever he went, this Young Master Hai was involved. But what connection did the Huitong Grand Hotel, Young Master Hai, and the assassin organization share? There was clearly more beneath the surface, and He Tian resolved to investigate thoroughly.

“Release our guest and you may leave. Otherwise…” Wu Hao’s threat was unmistakable.

A glance passed between Zhang Tong and Wu Hao, and He Tian instantly understood.

“Let’s see how you stop me,” He Tian challenged. The chosen spot was clever—no cameras covered this area. Clearly, there were hidden dealings at play, and He Tian was now deeply interested. If the Dragon Fang leak involved insiders, he’d start his investigation here.

“Since you won’t drink a toast, you’ll drink forfeit!” Wu Hao signaled, and a dozen security guards surged forward.

He Tian’s current status was that of a mission operative—he feared nothing. Even if things escalated, he was unbothered. Against these guards, he had no reservations. Judging by their ferocity, they’d clearly done plenty at Wu Hao’s behest.

He Tian struck first, rendering Zhang Tong unconscious with a single blow before launching himself at the guards. Though they were all trained, compared to He Tian they were utterly outmatched. He held back, but each would need two or three months to recover fully.

Wu Hao was terrified. He knew that if He Tian had captured Zhang Tong, he was not to be trifled with. But he hadn’t expected such overwhelming force. These guards were personally selected by Wu Hao, each a skilled fighter. Yet a dozen against one didn’t just lose—they were swept aside like autumn leaves. Wu Hao realized he’d made a grave mistake and began to regret trying to save Zhang Tong.

He might have exposed the entire organization.

“Don’t move! If you do, I’ll shoot!” Wu Hao pulled out a handgun, face twisted with menace.

He Tian raised his hands. At the third level of internal energy, he was not yet bulletproof. With a fourth level, he’d be confident ordinary bullets couldn’t harm him—but not now.

“Turn around!” Wu Hao was pleased with the turn of events. So what if you can fight? In this age of high technology, guns rule the world.

“All right,” He Tian replied obediently, turning his back—but in that instant, a thin embroidery needle flashed from his hand, striking Wu Hao’s gun hand before he could react.

Wu Hao screamed in pain. He Tian whirled, snatched the gun, and delivered a powerful kick to Wu Hao’s abdomen. Wu Hao flew backward, coughing blood as he fell.

Watching Wu Hao clutch his stomach, unable to rise, He Tian gave a cold laugh. Wu Hao was trained, but if He Tian had wanted him dead, that kick would have sufficed. However, He Tian sensed Wu Hao might still be useful—he couldn’t die yet.

Surveying the guards sprawled across the ground, He Tian frowned, then grabbed Zhang Tong and Wu Hao, slung the bag with the sniper rifle over his back, and departed. At the roadside, he casually broke into a car, tossed both men inside, and drove off without hesitation.

In his current role, He Tian acted without qualms. As long as he achieved his goal, no one else mattered—especially not an assassin and someone colluding with assassins.

Only once He Tian was gone did the groaning of the guards echo through the alley. Until then, they’d bitten back their pain, fearing He Tian would strike again. Now, they dared not hide anything and reported the incident immediately. Soon, the hotel’s security team and the head of Huitong Security rushed to the scene.

In the western suburbs of Tianhai City, inside an abandoned factory, He Tian brought Zhang Tong and Wu Hao. The car he’d used was long since abandoned—far enough away that no one would find this place in less than ten hours.

He Tian roused both men with a slap.

“Zhang Tong, tell me where your organization is based! Tell me about your connection with Wu Hao and the Huitong Grand Hotel, and I’ll spare your life,” He Tian demanded.

“Dream on!” Zhang Tong replied. He knew that talking meant certain death. As an assassin, he was well aware of the consequences for a loose tongue.

“I think you’re the one dreaming,” He Tian retorted coldly, stepping forward and pressing a hand to Zhang Tong. A surge of energy shot into Zhang Tong’s body.