Chapter Thirty-Seven: Luring the Tiger from the Mountain

Night fell, and the city burst into dazzling lights, its streets surging with people as the metropolis grew wild with noise and excitement. Qin Feng sat in the car returning to the hotel when, without warning, the vehicle braked sharply. He frowned, steadying himself, and peered through the window.

The crowd outside remained thick and bustling, but up ahead, chaos had erupted—a handful of cars parked haphazardly across the road, blocking passage and causing a significant commotion.

“What’s going on?” Qin Feng asked in a low, steady voice. The driver, equally bewildered, hastily replied, “I’m not sure, it just happened suddenly. I’ll take another route.”

Qin Feng nodded, yet an inexplicable sense of unease stirred within him.

He pulled out his phone, quickly sending Lin Wanting a message urging her to be cautious, then called the hotel to confirm nothing was amiss. Only after hearing everything was in order did he feel a measure of relief.

The car skirted the congested section, slowly making its way toward the hotel.

But just then, disaster struck—a gunshot thundered out of nowhere. The driver was killed instantly, a bullet shattering his skull, and the car veered uncontrollably, crashing into the roadside dirt.

“So that's how it is…”

Even a fool could see now that the earlier traffic jam had been orchestrated to force him onto a different path.

“Who could be so despicable!” Qin Feng roared, his eyes flashing with icy menace.

A barrage of gunfire erupted, bullets strafing his car in a wild frenzy. The roof was riddled with holes, glass shattered everywhere.

Had Qin Feng not ducked in advance, he would long since have been riddled with bullets.

He lifted his head, glaring at the growing throng of masked men in black. With a cold snort, he braced himself.

In the next instant, he kicked off with both legs, his body launching like an arrow, bursting out through the car door.

The black-clad assailants, caught off guard, froze in shock.

They’d assumed Qin Feng was already dead, utterly incapable of resistance, never imagining he would explode into action.

Qin Feng shot out of the vehicle, hooking his right foot to kick the door free, then, propelled by momentum, lunged at one of the attackers, landing a crushing punch to his chest and sending him flying, blood spurting from his mouth.

Gunfire erupted anew, bullets raining down upon Qin Feng.

Anticipating their renewed attack, Qin Feng, just before the guns fired, tore the car door from its hinges and held it as a shield.

In his powerful grip, the car door became a makeshift barricade. Bullets clanged against it with sharp metallic sounds, sparks flying everywhere, but none penetrated.

Using the door as cover, Qin Feng moved ghostlike among the black-clad men. Each strike was swift and decisive—his opponents were either knocked out or seriously wounded.

“Damn it! How is he so strong?” one of the attackers shouted, his grip on his gun faltering as fear spread through the group.

Qin Feng sneered. He kicked aside another would-be attacker, snatching up a fallen pistol.

He spun and fired a volley of precise shots; several more fell instantly.

“Retreat! Get out, now!” cried the leader, finally realizing that any further resistance would mean total annihilation. The remaining men, abandoning all pretense, scrambled to flee.

Qin Feng did not pursue them; he knew lingering here was dangerous and he needed to leave at once.

He scanned the surroundings for any remaining threats, then hurried toward the hotel, his mind racing with plans.

Inside the hotel, Lin Wanting had been restless ever since receiving Qin Feng’s message. She stood by the window, gazing at the noisy streets below, the unease in her heart growing stronger with each passing moment.

Suddenly, urgent knocking sounded at her door. She spun around, hesitated briefly, then decided to open it.

Standing outside was a hotel attendant, holding a letter, smiling politely. “Miss Lin, someone asked me to deliver this to you.”

Taking the letter, Lin Wanting watched the attendant leave. She opened the envelope and found a note inside: “Come to the hotel’s back alley immediately—urgent matter.”

The handwriting was unfamiliar, but Lin Wanting’s intuition told her it was connected to Qin Feng. Without hesitation, she set out.

In the dimly lit alley behind the hotel, Lin Wanting moved cautiously. Out of the shadows, several figures suddenly sprang forth, surrounding her.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Lin Wanting tried to remain calm, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her anxiety.

“Hmph, who we are is irrelevant. What matters is that Qin Feng is in our hands now. If you don’t want anything to happen to him, you’ll come quietly with us,” one of the men sneered.

Lin Wanting’s heart clenched, but she knew she must not lose her composure.

She pretended to comply, while discreetly activating her phone’s emergency contact function, hoping to leave a clue for Qin Feng.

Meanwhile, Qin Feng returned to the hotel, only to find Lin Wanting’s room empty. A surge of dread swept over him.

He immediately pulled up the hotel’s surveillance footage, seeing Lin Wanting led away and the content of the note she’d received.

“So, a classic diversion tactic,” Qin Feng murmured, a murderous glint flashing in his eyes.

For the first time, he felt genuine murderous intent; before, his violence was merely self-defense.

Now, he was determined that Wen Bin would die in Myanmar.

…

In an abandoned factory, lights blazed, revealing shadows pacing within.

“Well, well, Miss Lin, it’s been a while,” Wen Bin sat in a chair, sipping tea, a sinister smile curling his lips.

Lin Wanting stared at him, her delicate features icy cold, hatred and loathing burning deep in her eyes—she wished nothing more than to tear Wen Bin apart.

“Quite the tactic, Mr. Wen. You risk everything just to capture me,” Lin Wanting mocked.

“Miss Lin, you are too modest. When it comes to intrigue, who can match you? I’m merely riding your coattails,” Wen Bin laughed maliciously.

“Hmph, Wen Bin, I advise you not to ruin yourself—release me now, or you’ll die horribly,” Lin Wanting warned.

Wen Bin curled his lip disdainfully. “If I dared invite you for negotiations today, I’ve already made perfect preparations.”

No sooner had he spoken than seven or eight burly men emerged from every corner of the factory, glowering fiercely at Lin Wanting.

“So, you mean to kill me,” Lin Wanting thought grimly.

Now she realized Wen Bin’s scheme was far more than simple kidnapping—it was a carefully laid trap, waiting for her to step in.

She had no time to ponder the depths of his plot; her sole thought was to escape.

“Cooperation?” Lin Wanting frowned, puzzled. “What cooperation?”

“It’s very simple. If you agree to marry me, I’ll release you at once,” Wen Bin said, his smile greedy as he stared at her, barely able to suppress his desire.