Chapter 6: Ye Xiu!

“Shouldn’t you be the one running?”

“Captain Wang Long?”

Wang Long was startled, his face filled with shock.

Damn it, wasn’t the place sealed off? Who is this?

He turned around and saw a young face—it was Ye Xiu.

“Captain Wang, here’s my ID.”

With that, Ye Xiu took out a small green booklet and handed it to Wang Long. Wang only glanced at it, but he nearly lost his composure.

A member of the Dragon Division? And a district-level captain at that?

“Forgive me, sir, for not recognizing you. May I ask what brings you here?” Wang Long bowed deeply, but Ye Xiu paid him no heed. He walked straight into the room, heading directly for Chen Fan.

“Long time no see,” he said.

Chen Fan grinned. “Cut the crap, will you?”

“The one here with me—he’s the eldest son of the Song family, isn’t he?”

“And that’s Wang Long from the police bureau. Nothing but a lapdog.”

“Hurry up—I’m handing you a merit.”

The moment Ye Xiu and his team entered and laid eyes on Chen Fan, admiration filled their hearts.

Truly, he was the Wild Dragon. No one else could compare.

None of them had expected the Wild Dragon to survive—after all, the ones pursuing him had been elite foreign mercenaries, and their entire squad had been powerless to resist. Yet Chen Fan had stayed behind to cover the retreat—and lived.

Their respect for Chen Fan only deepened.

If Chen Fan had known what they were thinking, he would have told them: in places you cannot see, there’s an old man watching over me…

He’s protecting me.

“Wait, Wild Dragon,” Ye Xiu said. “What’s with the corpse?”

His sharp gaze had already landed on Song San, lying lifelessly nearby. Years on the front lines had trained Ye Xiu’s senses—he immediately recognized that Song San was dead.

“Call me Chen Fan,” came the indifferent reply. “I killed him.”

Ye Xiu inhaled sharply.

“Take Wang Long away,” he ordered.

At his word, two plainclothes men grabbed Wang Long. None of the police officers dared intervene—now that the Dragon Division was in charge, the matter was no longer theirs to handle.

By now, Chen Fan had released Song Tiancheng. Gasping for breath, Song Tiancheng realized that this Ye Xiu was no ordinary man—but apparently, he was a government official?

That meant he couldn’t possibly cover for Chen Fan, could he? Murder was murder. Chen Fan would have to pay the price.

“Sir, the man lying there is from the Song family,” Song Tiancheng said. “He was killed by Chen Fan right here today. Sir, you must give us justice!”

Ye Xiu merely grunted in reply, not even looking up as he scrolled through his phone.

“This Chen Fan—who knows where he came from? They say he’s the brother of that wretched Meng Rongrong. But who can be sure? For all we know, he’s a foreign spy, and Meng Rongrong is a traitor. Sir, you really ought to investigate thoroughly.”

But what Song Tiancheng didn’t realize was that, as he spoke, Chen Fan’s eyes had turned icy.

“Who are you calling a wretched woman?” Chen Fan asked coldly.

Song Tiancheng met Chen Fan’s gaze, shuddered, but forced himself to speak.

“Meng Rongrong isn’t a wretched woman? The way her company, Blossom Group, has grown—can you really believe she has no connections? With all those deals, why don’t you ask your dear sister how she negotiated them? Surely, her body counts as a kind of ‘ability’ too, doesn’t it?”

Meng Rongrong was already struggling to breathe from anger. “Song Tiancheng… You’re spouting nonsense!”

Song Tiancheng sneered, having apparently forgotten the pain of being restrained by Chen Fan just moments earlier.

“How am I wrong? You know exactly how many people you’ve tried to please. Some people look glamorous in public, but behind closed doors—how many pigs have rooted in that garden?”

Song Tiancheng was determined to stick to his story. Even if he had lost, as long as he insisted that Song San’s death was murder, Chen Fan would be ruined today. And now, surely Chen Fan wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on him. Wasn’t this his chance to say whatever he pleased?

But in the next second, what greeted him was the sharp crack of his right kneecap shattering.

Crack!