Chapter Seventy-Seven: Persuasion...

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A harsh screech of brakes shattered the silence, and inside the van, apart from Zhuo Nan and Dongfang Zhiyi, the five assassins were thrown forward by inertia. Zhuo Nan swiftly grabbed Dongfang Zhiyi’s arm, steadying her. She gave him a gentle smile of thanks, though a question lingered in her heart—how did he know the brakes were coming?

The assassins looked up and saw two large trucks blocking the road ahead, sealing off any possibility of moving forward. The leader, recognizing the dire situation, shouted at the driver, “Reverse! Reverse!”

But before his words had finished, a sharp “screech” sounded behind them—a third truck blocked the road at the rear. The van was now trapped between the trucks, front and back, with its escape routes cut off. Soon, countless small-time thugs appeared, emerging from behind the trucks. The leader surveyed the scene, thinking, “How are there so many street punks here?” Glancing in the rearview mirror, he caught Zhuo Nan’s playful, mocking smile and understood at once: these people were clearly connected to the young man. He hadn’t expected Zhuo Nan to be involved with the local underworld.

The leader raised his gun, pressing it against Zhuo Nan’s head, and growled fiercely, “Tell your people to get out of the way!”

Zhuo Nan shook his head with a smile, as if the gun pressed to his temple were nothing more than a harmless stick. He looked at the leader and asked, “What should I call you? Should I use your nickname, Wolf, or your real name, Zhou Guoliang? That’s quite a name—Guoliang, the pillar of the nation. After you left the military, why did you turn to this lucrative profession of assassination?”

Dongfang Zhiyi couldn’t help but smile at Zhuo Nan’s teasing words. Wolf’s eyes were filled with shock. “Stop laughing,” he snapped, pressing the gun harder against Zhuo Nan’s head. “Who the hell are you?”

Zhuo Nan showed not the slightest trace of fear. He chuckled, “I know who you are, but you don’t know who I am. Isn’t that frustrating?” His tone suddenly turned icy, like a cold winter wind. “Zhou Guoliang, born in 1960, enlisted in 1977, served in the Special Reconnaissance Battalion of the 24th Division, 18th Army. Participated in the Vietnam War. Second-class combat hero. Discharged in 1983…”

Zhuo Nan recited his details as if reading from a cherished record. Zhou Guoliang was incredulous. Aside from the state and his employer, no one had ever mentioned these details in all these years. Everyone else only knew him as Wolf… Who could have guessed that Wolf was once a hero, and now made his living as a killer? Even his fellow assassins in the van looked at Zhou Guoliang with surprised expressions.

“Who are you? How do you know all this? Tell me now, or I’ll shoot!” Zhou Guoliang, furious and embarrassed, flipped the safety off his gun.

Zhuo Nan smiled, giving him a look that told him to face forward. Zhou Guoliang turned, and saw the thugs advancing on the van, step by step. “Tell your people to clear out, or I’ll start shooting!” Zhou Guoliang barked, sensing the situation was slipping from his control.

Zhuo Nan shrugged. “Zhou Guoliang, don’t kid yourself. You’re not getting out. My people number at least five hundred. If you fire, see how many you can kill. Let us go, and I’ll open a path for you. Otherwise, when the police arrive, no one will escape.”

Zhou Guoliang burst out laughing. “Kid, don’t get ahead of yourself. I have a mission. If I can’t take you back, I’ll just finish you off.”

Dongfang Zhiyi’s heart skipped a beat. These ruthless desperados meant every word, and she instinctively clutched Zhuo Nan’s arm tighter.

Zhuo Nan laughed it off. “If I die, you still won’t get away.”

“Heh. None of us expect to live long. We take each day as it comes, earn money for one more day. If I die today, my wife and kids still get paid.” Zhou Guoliang wasn’t fazed by Zhuo Nan’s words—he spoke the truth. For those who live life on the edge, death is the only inevitable ending.

“Zhuo Nan, I’ll start interfering with their brainwaves now. Try to convince them to drop their weapons…” The voice from his brain came through.

Zhuo Nan understood: these assassins had been rigorously trained. While he could access their minds and retrieve information, he couldn’t control them. The brainwave interference could only disrupt their thoughts. Whether he could persuade them depended on his own abilities.

He began speaking slowly. “Zhou Guoliang, I know you’re not afraid of death. Apart from this woman, none of us men in this van fear dying. But think about it—you have a son, a wife. Do they know you’re an assassin? Imagine, if you died, your son asking his mother, ‘Where’s Dad?’ How would your wife answer? Picture this—if you die, your wife remarries, and your son gets a heartless stepfather. How much suffering will your boy endure? And years from now, your son grows up, marries, has a child of his own, but the Zhou family descendants dare not mention their grandfather. Would you have your son and grandson say, ‘Grandpa was a killer, a merciless demon, a bastard, a son of a bitch…’”

“Stop it! Stop it! Don’t say another word…” Zhou Guoliang snapped, firing wildly at the van’s roof.

Zhuo Nan quickly shielded Dongfang Zhiyi in his arms, protecting her from stray bullets. Fortunately, the van’s steel was thin, so the bullets pierced straight through the roof and into the sky.

The gunfire inside the van startled the thugs outside, who exchanged nervous glances. When they’d been sent by their boss, they were told only to block the garage exit—no one had said there’d be guns involved. Now, none dared advance another step.

“Boss, don’t listen to this kid. Let’s rush out—those are just street punks…” One of the assassins opened the window, leaned out, and fired his gun.

The submachine gun spat fire, and the unlucky thugs who couldn’t flee in time fell in droves. Zhuo Nan thought to himself, “Let them shoot—it’s the only way.”

Just then, the distant wail of sirens reached them. Judging by the timing, he guessed it was the armed police. “These soldiers are damn quick,” he mused.

“Boss, the armed police are here! What should we do—let’s break out!” said another assassin.

Zhou Guoliang was still lost in the words Zhuo Nan had spoken, his resolve wavering. He seemed to see his son being abused by a stepfather, his son’s wedding, all playing out before him.

“Zhuo Nan, he’s shaken…” the brain reminded him urgently.

Zhuo Nan nodded, then continued, “Zhou Guoliang, do you think I’m making sense?”

“Kid, shut up or I’ll blow your head off…” This came from the assassin behind Zhuo Nan.

Zhuo Nan frowned slightly, thinking, “This guy is a nuisance. If he wants to die, I’ll oblige him…”

In a blink, Zhuo Nan shifted left, seized the gun barrel with his left hand, and swung his right elbow hard into the man’s face. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the gun and fired a burst straight into the assassin’s body.

The others hadn’t yet reacted, but saw their comrade killed by Zhuo Nan. All their guns now trained on him. Zhuo Nan spread his hands, smiling, and tossed the gun aside. “He wanted to die, so I helped him. I trust you won’t be as foolish as he was…”

Zhou Guoliang was left with only one thought—the young man before him was terrifyingly capable. His right arm had already been shot, yet he could still execute such a forceful strike, the whole sequence swift, precise, and ruthless, surpassing even their own skills. The final act of shooting his comrade was done without hesitation. Zhou Guoliang considered himself fierce, but this man was beyond fierce—he was venomous.

By now, the armed police had surrounded the scene. Wei Yang’s voice boomed through the vehicle’s loudspeaker: “Listen up, everyone in the van! You are surrounded! Release the hostages, drop your weapons, and surrender immediately!”

“What do we do, boss?” The situation was dire, never accounted for in their plan. Originally, the police were supposed to arrive after they’d made their escape, but the appearance of the thugs had delayed them by two precious minutes. In this line of work, two minutes could mean everything—the assassins knew this all too well.

“Zhou Guoliang, you’ve served as a soldier. Look at the tactical maneuvers of the armed police—can’t you recognize their level? Give up resistance,” Zhuo Nan said, nudging Dongfang Zhiyi. She instantly understood and followed his lead. “I can guarantee my grandfather won’t pursue this matter. I’ll plead for you, and arrange for your families to be protected.”

Assassins are human, with families and feelings; killing is their profession, not their passion. All these men were former soldiers, discharged with no good prospects, eventually turning to assassination. Now, faced with this way out, they began to waver. The super brain’s interference had played a crucial role, disrupting their thoughts and giving Zhuo Nan the opening he needed to persuade them.

Zhou Guoliang sighed. “Miss Dongfang, you must keep your word.”

Dongfang Zhiyi nodded quickly. “You have my promise—I will.”

“Alright… Brothers, let’s surrender. We’re all just trying to earn a living—no need to trade our lives for it. With life, everything is possible…” With their leader’s words, the others had little choice.

Zhou Guoliang led the way, laying down his gun, opening the van door, and stepping out with his hands raised. The others followed suit.

Armed police teams rushed in, guns ready, quickly subduing the assassins and securing the scene. Only then were Zhuo Nan and Dongfang Zhiyi escorted safely out of the van by the police.