Morning broke over the city like a tired soldier—grey, silent, uncertain.
Lin Feng sat at the edge of a high-rise balcony, the old Silver Thread map pinned under his coffee cup. The industrial dye used in the warehouse takedown was still faintly visible on his sleeve.
Across from him, Su Qingyue reviewed a new set of blueprints—schematics of real estate owned by shell companies tied to the Silver Circle, all clustering around key access points to the buried rail lines beneath Longhai.
"They've been rebuilding without permits," she said. "Using front companies registered offshore."
"And pushing low-income tenants out without heat or notice," Lin Feng added, eyes distant. "Classic silver play: make rot look like renewal."
Su looked up. "You think they'll strike again?"
Lin Feng didn't answer. He simply turned over the map. On the back, he had scrawled three words:
The Knife Moves.
Elsewhere – Central Hospital, 7th Floor
Luo Zixuan's next move wasn't fire—it was blood.
The news broke quietly: the young community organizer from the old Longhai neighborhood, Zhao Fan, had been found unconscious outside his office. Blunt trauma, no witnesses, wallet untouched.
No theft. Just a message.
He was the same man Lin Feng had quietly helped weeks ago, rerouting funds to stop a buyout of community housing.
Now, he was in critical care.
Afternoon – Community Clinic Waiting Room
Lin Feng entered quietly. No entourage. No expression.
Nurses glanced at him but said nothing. Some recognized him from the neighborhood campaign, but the fear in their eyes was new.
Qian Juxiao arrived minutes later, slipping a plain folder onto the table beside him.
"No direct trail," Qian said. "But there's a new fixer in town. Someone brought in from Macau. Only goes by the name Yin Blade."
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "Sounds poetic."
Qian's voice dropped. "He's not. Two unsolved assassinations tied to political proxies in Wenzhou. Always surgical. Always symbolic."
Lin Feng stood, eyes on the hospital hallway beyond the glass.
"They sent a knife to send a message."
"Not just to you," Qian added. "To the city. This is their declaration of war."
Evening – Crimson Circle Private Salon
Xu Shanyue moved a glass pawn across a lacquered board.
Guo Yuwei raised an eyebrow. "You're siding with him now?"
"I'm watching," she replied.
"Then why leak Yin Blade's arrival?"
She didn't answer immediately. Just sipped her tea, eyes half-lidded.
"Because knives like him don't cut just once," she said softly. "They carve echoes. And I want to see what kind of echo Lin Feng makes."
Nightfall – Rooftop Over Central Longhai
Lin Feng watched the city as storm clouds rolled in. Lights flickered like fireflies trapped in concrete jars.
Behind him, Su Qingyue approached. "You could walk away."
He shook his head. "I was never just walking."
She hesitated. "Then at least let me stay ahead of the knife."
He turned to her, something quiet and dangerous in his voice.
"No," he said. "Let me turn the knife around."
Lightning cracked above the skyline. Somewhere in the distance, a phone began to ring.
And Yin Blade stepped off a private jet.