Chapter 121: Rescuing Mo Fan

At 2 a.m., An Feng picked up a black cloth, draped it over his face, glanced at Mo Lan dressed in black, and said, “We’re ready. When we move, be quick with our hands and feet. If we can, try not to burn their family’s medicinal herbs.” A faint smile of vengeful satisfaction curled at the corner of his mouth.

Mo Lan nodded, then let a sultry smile bloom across her lips. This Wang boss was truly detestable; he couldn’t possibly get away with doing nothing to harm him.

The two figures in black cloaks slipped across the rooftops like shadows, leaping from one building to the next. Their movements were light and easy, almost playful. Their eyes sparkled with amusement, free of any tension about rescuing anyone.

They reached Wang’s Pharmacy in no time. The place had fallen into silence; not a single window glowed with light. An Feng quietly checked every room, found everyone still asleep, and curved his lips in a small smile. Still, he scattered a dusting of powder into each one, for Dream Powder was harmless enough.

Mo Lan did the same, but the moment she saw the masked Han, doubt flickered through her. Should she teach this man a lesson? She weighed the thought and decided against it. She blew in a whisper of powder, then turned to search for Mo Fan.

She tried several rooms and found no trace of him. Nor could she spot Boss Wang. Where had he gone? A faint sound drifted from the firewood shed. The two exchanged a glance and hurried toward it.

The instant they saw Boss Wang furiously whipping Mo Fan, both An Feng and Mo Lan’s expressions darkened.

He was beating Mo Fan at this hour? The man truly had a death wish.

Two servants stood nearby, yawning and barely holding themselves upright.

Mo Fan was lucid, every lash felt sharp and clear. He kept his eyes open, staring straight ahead even as the whip fell, refusing to utter a single cry. That was the pride of the Mo family—tears were forbidden.

Mo Lan’s fist clenched so tightly her knuckles creaked. Without hesitation she kicked, sending Boss Wang sprawling. One foot pressed down on his chest while the other two servants rushed to grab her. An Feng delivered a swift kick to each of them; the men toppled like felled trees and never rose again.

An Feng looked at the result of his handiwork with satisfaction, then hurried to free Mo Fan. The young man’s body was a map of bruises, his breathing shallow. An Feng spoke awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“I knew I wouldn’t die.”

The words had barely left Mo Fan’s lips when exhaustion and injury claimed him; he fainted.

Mo Lan said nothing. She simply kept her foot planted on Boss Wang’s chest, grinding down as though she meant to snap every rib and crush his heart beneath her sole.

“Help!”

“It hurts!”

“I told you to hit Mo Fan, I told you to scream.” Mo Lan planted one knee on him, one foot planted firmly, and slapped Boss Wang across the face with both hands.

An Feng hoisted Mo Fan onto his back and watched, unable to stop the swallow of saliva. If the two of them ever fought, would Mo Lan ever treat him like this?

The ones who had heard the cries had been thoroughly drugged by Dream Powder. They stumbled about, lost, and accidentally triggered a mechanism. An Feng heard the whistle of arrows. He glanced up and saw a hundred sharp arrows streaking toward them. One moment they would become human porcupines.

He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the two servants and shoved them out of the way. The sound of arrows striking flesh rang out, blood sprayed, and pained cries rose.

Mo Lan sat blankly, no longer moving. Boss Wang’s face was now swollen and crimson, his head pounding so fiercely he could barely speak. Only after the arrow shower passed did the drugged servants stagger forward and pile themselves into a writhing heap before the three of them.

They had asked for this. Back in the hotel they would thank Xian properly. If Xian could mass-produce and sell these things, how terrifyingly useful they would become. Still, this was only a thought experiment; the medicinal herbs were precious and impossible to come by. They were only using them for Mo Lan because someone had to be saved.

An Feng glanced at the groaning group with open disgust. Some of them were even stupider than the police. The thought eased the knot in his chest.

Mo Lan looked at the swollen face of Boss Wang, drove one fist into his eye, and left him with two black eyes. Then she scanned the surroundings and decided to take him back to the police station and lock him away for life.

Destroying the pharmacy was a shame; the herbs existed to save lives. She left a note for the Mo family master and arranged for them to take over the place. After all, because of Mo Fan’s injuries, Boss Wang would owe them compensation.

Han had been the only one who never emerged. He had forced himself into unconsciousness, or he would have died of fury.

The two men carried Mo Fan out and Boss Wang out, then returned to their hotel. An Feng tied up their prisoner and stuffed him into the trunk.

An Feng had decided Boss Wang might try to feed Mo Fan poison powder, so he quickly slipped the antidote between Mo Fan’s lips. Whether he swallowed it or not, it was better to be safe. He then carefully gave him a sip of water, collected the remaining medicine, left money on the counter, and climbed into the car.

Mo Lan glanced back at Nanjing. It was a beautiful city, but here lived a poisonous worm named Wang Boss, and he would not be staying. Nanjing would return to its old quiet peace.

Mo Fan lay sleeping in the back seat. Mo Lan and An Feng sat in front. An Feng glanced sideways at her and spoke.

“You haven’t asked about Qian Yin lately. When are we going to save her?”

Mo Fan had been kidnapped and beaten. The matter had dragged on for so long; the thought that she might have been hurt made him uneasy. If she truly had, Mo Lan would carry the guilt for the rest of her life.

“I want to go save her right now, but I can’t bear to lose anyone else who’s still alive. If my life can bring her back, I’m willing to trade it.”

Mo Lan stared straight ahead, voice steady.

An Feng’s heart gave a hard jolt. He should never have asked. It seemed Qian Yin meant more to Mo Lan than he did. The realization stung, and something hot and bitter rose in his throat.

“If you died, what would I do? Why can’t you take better care of your own life? Do you know how badly I want to say that to you?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He regretted it instantly, eyes flicking away from the road, darting sidelong at Mo Lan.

Mo Lan startled, turned her head, and saw a car ahead. She reached out and grabbed the steering wheel, twisting it sharply. The vehicle swerved just enough to avoid disaster.

“Driving right now is dangerous. We’ll talk about it later.”

Mo Lan didn’t want to answer. If they continued this conversation, something could happen. Car accidents were not accidents.

An Feng said nothing more, eyes fixed on the road. She refused to speak. He didn’t push. His chest felt tight, a dull ache spreading through him.