Under the cover of night, Lin Wei slipped away from the villa. His footsteps silent, his presence unnoticed even by the shadows themselves.
The air was crisp, yet heavy with anticipation-as if the night itself held its breath. Dressed in black from head to toe, Lin Wei became a phantom amid the sleeping world, slipping past guards, sensors, and eyes that never even registered his presence. He was a myth come alive, moving with a purpose born not of rage, but of resolve.
In the depths of the city, Zhao Feng's compound was a fortress. But no walls could keep out the God of Shadows.
Concrete walls topped with razor wire surrounded the gang boss's domain. Guards patrolled the perimeter with rifles slung across their backs, believing themselves untouchable behind layers of steel and manpower. But Lin Wei had walked through stronger defenses. The compound was a castle built on arrogance-and tonight, it would fall in silence.
One by one, Lin Wei's trusted enforcers infiltrated the compound. Swift, silent, and deadly, they eliminated every trace of Zhao Feng's defiance.
Trained in the art of silent warfare, Lin Wei's men were ghosts-each movement calculated, every breath measured. They moved like whispers through corridors, striking without warning and disappearing just as quickly. Surveillance systems went dark one by one, security teams vanished mid-patrol, and not a single alarm was triggered. Zhao Feng's legacy was being erased, moment by moment.
By dawn, Zhao Feng and his key lieutenants had vanished without a trace-no bodies, no blood, only an eerie silence.
As the sun crept over the horizon, the compound stood untouched-but hollow. Desks sat empty, weapons remained in racks, and breakfast trays lay cold and uneaten. There were no screams, no bullet holes, no signs of a struggle-only the suffocating stillness of a reckoning delivered with surgical precision. The message was clear: Lin Wei was no ordinary man. He was a force, a myth, and to cross him was to invite oblivion.