Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1032 - 514

Dusk.

The sky full of sunset casts the entire Old Factory Street in a warm orange hue.

This is the busiest time in the old district.

Workers leaving work ride electric scooters, honking as they weave through the narrow alleys.

Children leaving school, backpacks on their backs, chase and play in groups.

Street vendors setting up skewer stands barely opened, waiting for night to fully fall.

Several floors of the tubular building have windows wide open, the clanking sound of cooking incessantly streaming.

The thick smell of oil smoke, mixed with the aroma of soy sauce, scallions, and ginger, rushes upwards.

Top floor, room 908.

In stark contrast to the bustling scene below filled with the scent of life, it is eerily quiet here.

No lights are turned on in the room, creating a dim and oppressive atmosphere.

The last light of sunset slips through the curtain’s gaps, casting narrow stripes of light on the floor.

Beyond that, there is only deep shadow.

Fang Cheng sits alone, cross-legged at the center of the floor.

Naked from the waist up, his strong muscles exhibit a sculptural texture in the faint light.

With each breath, his chest moves slightly, exuding an indescribable aura of solemnity.

The glow of the sunset falls directly on half of his face, highlighting his features in a mix of light and shadow.

Like a deity in a temple with eyes half-open and half-closed, conveying a sense of awe that makes hearts race.

Fang Cheng is meditating, regulating his breath, calming his heartbeat.

He attempts to optimize every nerve and muscle in his body for standby status.

Just then, the tiny earpiece on his ear emits a hint of red light, shattering the room’s silence.

"Calling the president, this is ’Eagle Eye’ surveillance post."

A deep voice comes through the earpiece, accompanied by the faint buzz of static and keyboard tapping.

"Target area, surrounding building four of Old Factory Street, under surveillance for eight hours."

"So far, no high-threat targets or suspicious individuals have entered the alert range, environmental safety level three."

It is Monkey’s voice, revealing professionalism and efficiency.

Soon, another rough voice joins in, tinged with impatience:

"President, it’s Big Hammer, I’ve been wandering downstairs for half a day now, haven’t seen even a ghost shadow save for a few scrap collectors and delivery guys."

"Could it be that those bastards have discovered us? Should we switch stakeout points? I think that waste recycling station across the street has a good view..."

Fang Cheng slowly opens his eyes.

In an instant, a certain kind of light seems to flash through the dim room.

Two beams of electric light burst forth from his pupils.

"Continue."

His voice calm, yet it carries a strange strength.

"Stay calm, what Hunters need most is patience."

The other side of the earpiece remains silent for a second, soon followed by the synchronized reply of the two:

"Yes, President!"

Communication cut, the earpiece returns to silence.

His meditation interrupted, Fang Cheng chooses not to resume.

He slowly stands, looking through the curtain’s gaps at the distant scene.

The sunset gradually sinks into the forest of city high-rises, setting the clouds ablaze like coagulated clots of blood.

Shadows swiftly spread across the earth, devouring the last gleams of light.

"It’s almost dark..."

Fang Cheng murmurs, a sharp gleam flashing through his eyes.

Then turns and walks into the bedroom.

On the bed, several items are neatly arranged.

Fang Cheng approaches the bed, reaching for a pitch-black semi-automatic pistol.

The gun cold and heavy, reflecting the unique chill of metal.

This was his "prize" from a Hunter’s hunt back then.

Despite not being used for nearly half a year, through maintenance, it remains in perfect condition.

"Old friend, it’s time for you to appear."

Fang Cheng’s fingers brush over the gun’s surface, feeling its hard texture, his gaze deepening.

"Click."

He adeptly removes the magazine, inspecting the gleaming yellow bullets, ensuring the firing pin and recoil spring are free of snags before reloading.

Afterwards, he tucks the gun into the quick-draw holster at his back waist, pulling down his T-shirt to cover it.

Having completed these tasks, Fang Cheng starts packing the nearby canvas bag.

A set of ordinary gray sportswear, a pair of silver-gray running shoes suitable for action, and a particularly noticeable pair of red underwear.

He carefully folds each item, placing them sequentially into the bag.

All prepared for tonight’s operation, to adapt to special circumstances and avoid past awkwardness of being naked.

Next, a deep blue identification card.

Fang Cheng holds it in his hand, studying it carefully.

The card well-crafted, with a golden shield and crossed saber emblem embossed on the front.

Below is a line of bold text:

[Special Affairs Investigation Team East City Detective Branch Second Level Officer Zhou Liang].

This item is also crucial for tonight’s plan.

Fang Cheng cautiously places the ID in a side pocket of the canvas bag.

Following this, a brown leather document folder filled with sheets of densely packed A4 paper.

Stamped with a red "confidential" seal, it looks very official, as if it holds secrets of great importance.

Finally, his hand pauses over a mask.

A white Evil Ghost Mask, its features twisted and terrifying, fangs bared.

Rubies set in the eye sockets glint evilly in the dim light.

Fang Cheng stares at the mask for a few seconds, a chilling curve tugging at the corners of his mouth: