The Green Lake Guesthouse in Wol City was not well-known, primarily because it operated as a private club, admitting members only. Despite its relative obscurity, the interior environment and decoration were among the nation's absolute finest.

Its membership consisted entirely of high-society elites. Fei Yingming was lodged here, though his presence was not for leisure but for business.

Last month, he had just turned twenty. Following family tradition, he was required to take a post within the family enterprise for training.

As the direct grandson of the current patriarch, he naturally didn't start as a low-level clerk; instead, he was appointed Assistant General Manager at a subsidiary branch. He hadn't purchased property here but instead lodged long-term because the location facilitated networking with successful individuals.

He craved success, and a broad network was indispensable for that ambition. Today, he returned to the Green Lake Guesthouse from the office as usual, but uncharacteristically, he had not brought a female companion.

A long, intense talk with his father before taking up the post had profoundly affected him; he had come to understand many things. Beneath the seemingly tranquil surface of the family, powerful undercurrents truly churned.

Fei Yingming returned to his suite. The room was furnished in an antique style, a stark contrast to his own temperament.

He had deliberately chosen this room specifically to prevent himself from succumbing to frivolous pursuits. He powered up his computer and began to work.

To command greater authority, he needed to strive harder. For this goal, he was prepared to sacrifice anything.

Thinking of this, he ground his teeth with hatred for Zhong Yun. If only he could marry Liu Yunqi, the little princess of the Yang family, he could have potentially bypassed fifty years of struggle.

At that point, who in the family wouldn't have to defer to him? His chances of securing the position of patriarch would increase exponentially.

It was all that bastard Zhong Yun's fault. Fei Yingming gnashed his teeth, wishing he could grind the man to dust.

Why couldn't he fathom why Liu Yunqi would ever favor that utterly useless good-for-nothing? He truly wanted to cast aside all restraint and send men to murder Zhong Yun again.

But he dared not. Yang Yunrong’s warning still echoed vividly in his ears.

If he truly moved against Zhong Yun, he had no doubt that Yang Yunrong would destroy him. That was a madman who dared to cripple his own kinsmen into mental incapacitation.

Recalling the intelligence he had managed to gather, a chill swept over him. Five or six years ago, three direct descendants of the Yang family had suffered unfortunate accidents.

Two were left completely paralyzed, requiring machines to sustain movement, and one was rendered severely intellectually disabled, possessing the cognitive capacity of a three-year-old. If he treated his own blood relations this way, what mercy would he show an irrelevant outsider like himself?

Moreover, he was certain that if Yang Yunrong were willing to pay a certain price, his own family members would not choose him. The Fei family had many direct disciples, but the Yang family was an insurmountable power.

Faced with such a choice, his sensible grandfather would never make a mistake. This was the survival philosophy of powerful clans: no matter how dazzling their external appearance, they were fundamentally vile and unscrupulous, resorting to any means for profit.

As a member of such a clan, his father understood this clearly and had warned him never to provoke anyone stronger than himself. Otherwise, even his father couldn't save him.

Among those he absolutely could not afford to offend, the Yang family ranked first. His father's words had been like a bucket of ice water poured over Fei Yingming’s head.

His superior status, his power to grant life or death—all stemmed from his identity as the young master of the Fei family. When the Fei family itself could no longer protect him, what foundation would he have to rely upon?

Therefore, killing Zhong Yun was an absolute impossibility. This reality was torture for Fei Yingming; even though his heart burned with resentment, he could only endure it.

Suddenly, a short, sharp gasp sounded from outside the door. Fei Yingming snapped his head up alertly, activating his bodyguard’s communicator.

"What happened?" There was no reply. A dread instantly sank in Fei Yingming’s chest—something had gone wrong.

Acting decisively, he stood and moved toward the interior of the room, leaning against the wall. Fortunately, his suite wasn't entirely soundproof; otherwise, he might have died without ever knowing how.

The outer door opened silently, revealing no figure in the threshold. Floating in the air was only a Blood Saber, looking impossibly eerie in the quiet room.

A gust of wind swept in, chilling and carrying the faintest hint of metallic stench. A single drop of blood slid silently down the blade's edge, pattering onto the floor.

Suddenly, the saber arced through the air, flinging the clinging blood outward. It splattered against the white wall, staining it with a horrifying crimson mark.

Then, the Blood Saber vanished. Fei Yingming watched this entire sequence unfold on the surveillance video, feeling an icy chill shoot from his back straight to the crown of his head.

"No, I cannot die." Fei Yingming roared internally, the veins bulging on the hand gripping the electromagnetic pistol. "I absolutely will not die here.

I’m only twenty years old." His eyes were fixed intensely on the door. Cold sweat dripped onto his eyelashes, the salty sting making his eyes twitch painfully; he dared not even blink.

"I will become the Fei family patriarch. I will crush the Yang family under my heel.

I will make Yang Yunrong regret today's decision. I will tear that waste, Zhong Yun, limb from limb!" He bit his lip so hard that the intense pain and the taste of blood in his mouth heightened his focus to its absolute peak.

"No one can kill me. No one." The door opened soundlessly.

Simultaneously, Fei Yingming hit the activation switch on the pulse gun. An invisible, massive wave of energy erupted from the muzzle, instantly spreading into a net that enveloped the entire space ahead.

It was as if a breeze had passed through; starting from the gun's barrel, a pale, grayish light swept across the area, and after a moment, everything returned to normal. After firing the switch, Fei Yingming felt as if all his strength had been drained.

This pulse gun was issued by the family for self-defense. Although control over weaponry was extremely strict in Davo, scions of powerful clans like him always managed to smuggle such items for personal safety.

The greatest feature of this weapon was its short effective range, limited to thirty meters, but its firing area was vast, capable of covering an effective zone of twenty square meters. It was a formidable tool for close-quarters combat.

Once fired, aiming was unnecessary; if the target was close enough, escape from the blast radius was impossible. Furthermore, it was instantly fatal to anyone struck.

Fei Yingming refused to believe the invisible entity could evade this shot. Even if blocked by the door, the pulse gun's immense penetrating power should still take its life.

"Try to kill me? No chance." Fei Yingming shouted maniacally, his rapid breathing and contorted, rigid face conveying an indescribable frenzy.

"Hahahaha..." He threw his head back in wild laughter. Having cheated death and eliminated an enemy, he had slipped into a state bordering on hysteria.

"Come on, come kill me, come on..." He roared, "No one will kill me—not Yang Yunrong, not Zhong Yun, no one at all..." (Recommended reading for friends: Rebirth of a Splendid Life, Book ID 1226184. A mysterious ring that allows the wearer to understand the language of all beasts; a ring that allows the wearer to imitate the habits of any animal...)