# Chapter Fourteen:
*"Within every human being lies an abyss, and if you gaze into it long enough... the abyss might smile back at you."*
***
The air in the new apartment carried the scent of fresh paint and dust accumulated in forgotten corners. It wasn't luxurious, far from it. Just a practical, functional space located in the heart of a semi-abandoned warehouse district on the city outskirts—a place easy to disappear into, and hard to find. Zhao Fu had chosen it carefully, following Lin Feng's strict instructions: anonymous, multiple exits, far from prying eyes.
Lin Feng moved through the rooms, empty except for basic furniture, his steps quiet and deliberate. There was no real sense of comfort or safety, merely a lesser degree of immediate danger. Vigilance had become an integral part of his being, a sixth sense constantly operating in the background, scanning for any anomaly, any unexpected sound, any shadow moving incorrectly.
He unpacked his equipment quickly and efficiently, setting up the encrypted laptop, scanning the surrounding wireless networks, and securing the apartment's few entry points with simple yet effective sensors. He didn't fully trust anything or anyone, not even his most loyal ally, Zhao Fu. Trust was a luxury he no longer possessed.
Once relatively assured of his immediate surroundings' security, he opened a secure communication channel.
"Fu." Lin Feng's tone was calm but carried weight.
"Sir." Zhao Fu's reply was immediate, tinged with a mixture of respect and suppressed concern. "Is everything alright at the new location?"
"It's acceptable." Lin Feng offered no further details. "What about the information I requested?"
"I began searching immediately, sir. As for 'Scorpion,' the name is known in certain circles, but he's a true ghost. No confirmed information on his real identity or whereabouts. He seems to specialize in covert operations and avoids the spotlight. I'll need more time and resources to track him."
"Continue searching, cautiously," Lin Feng ordered. "What about 'North Star Trading Company'?"
"Things are more interesting here, sir. Ostensibly, it's a legitimate international trading company, its records clean... suspiciously clean. There are gaps in its founding history, and indirect financial links to several shell companies whose code names appeared in the data you provided. It seems like an elaborate front for something larger and darker. I've managed to pinpoint their headquarters—a heavily secured building in the business district."
Lin Feng paused for a moment, absorbing the information. "Good. Keep gathering intel on the company, anything unusual, any suspicious movements of key personnel. But don't get too close; I don't want to attract attention."
"Understood, sir. But... permit me to say, this network seems extremely dangerous. The information you uncovered... it goes beyond mere financial corruption. We must be extremely careful."
"I am always careful, Fu," Lin Feng said coldly and ended the connection.
He sat on a simple plastic chair, staring at the blank wall before him. Scorpion... North Star... just small pieces in a huge, dark puzzle. The monsters he'd glimpsed in the distorted video from the chip, those committing unspeakable atrocities behind respectable facades... they weren't just individuals, but an entire system, a cancerous network with roots running deep into the city's foundation.
He recalled a quote he'd once read by Dostoevsky, in his past life that now seemed as distant as a hazy dream: *"Suffering is the sole origin of consciousness."* Was this what was happening to him? Was this constant suffering, this perpetual flight, this immersion in darkness, opening his eyes to the reality of the world, the reality of human nature in its ugliest form? Perhaps. But the consciousness he gained wasn't spiritual enlightenment; it was a terrifying clarity, a cold realization of humanity's capacity for absolute evil.
Yet, this realization didn't drive him to despair or fear. It ignited something else within him. A strange sense of power, of distinction. He saw what others didn't. He understood the game most people didn't even realize was being played. A faint smile, tinged with cold narcissism, touched his lips.
*"These fools,"* he thought, *"they believe their strength lies in money and influence, in their ability to hide their brutality behind false masks. But their strength is also their weakness. They rely on darkness to conceal their actions, but I was born in darkness, molded by it. I understand its language better than they do."*
It was no longer just about survival. It had become a challenge, a deadly chess game against powerful opponents who were, in his view, predictable. They were driven by greed, fear, blind ambition—weaknesses to be exploited.
*"No one truly understands the depth of the game I'm playing now,"* he continued thinking, a sense of superiority creeping into his consciousness. *"They think I'm just a cornered rat, but they don't realize I'm the hunter patiently studying his prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. I am the only one capable of seeing the whole picture, of understanding the hidden connections that bind them all."*
He opened the laptop again, not for decryption this time, but for analysis. He began creating psychological profiles of the names he'd identified from the chip, linking them to Zhao Fu's information, searching for patterns, for potential pressure points. The process was like a cold, calculated dissection of human frailty. Who was greedy enough to be tempted? Who was fearful enough to be blackmailed? Who was ambitious enough to be manipulated?
*"Danger?"* he thought scornfully. *"Danger is merely the spice that adds flavor to the game. I thrive in the chaos others fear. Every step is calculated, every move has a purpose. They are playing chess, while I am playing an entirely different game, one whose rules I create."*
For a fleeting moment, an image of his younger sister flashed through his mind. Her innocent face, her smile that used to light up his world. He remembered why he started all this. It wasn't just about avenging his family, but protecting her. That thought was an anchor to his humanity, but he felt it slipping. The coldness consuming him, this ruthless determination—was it distancing him from what he fought for?
He suppressed the thought quickly. No time for doubt or regret. Weakness meant death. He had to be stronger, more ruthless, more manipulative than his enemies to win.
He stood and walked towards the apartment's only window, overlooking a bleak landscape of rusting warehouses under a grey sky. He took out his pistol and began disassembling and cleaning it with automatic, precise movements. Each metallic click, each wipe of oil, was part of a ritual of preparation, focusing mind and body on the task ahead.
He was no longer just a fugitive reacting. He had become a predator preparing to hunt. The information he possessed was just the beginning. 'North Star Company' would be his next starting point. He would infiltrate their facade, expose their secrets, and use them against them.
A cold smile returned to his face as he reassembled the pistol. *"Darkness is not something I fear,"* he whispered to himself, his voice echoing eerily in the silent apartment. *"It is the canvas upon which I will paint their downfall."*
The game had just begun.