Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1148 - 560

Old Factory Street, tubular building.

The street in the dead of night remains remarkably still, as the majority of surrounding inhabitants have already dimmed their lights and retired to rest.

Now and then, a baby's wail drifts from a nearby window, swiftly quieted by a grown-up's soothing words.

Within room 980 at the uppermost level, darkness prevails with every light switched off.

Neon illumination from the streets seeps inward, just enough to faintly trace the shapes of the furniture.

An antique wall clock chimes steadily in 'tick-tock, tick-tock' rhythm, while its hour hand has silently crossed past twelve.

Ah Le occupies the wooden seat beside the window, his complexion drained to a ghostly pallor.

Even with the abdominal gash crudely wrapped, bouts of vertigo from severe blood loss surge repeatedly, and his eyelids sag as though burdened by leaden weights.

However, he refuses to surrender to sleep or even entertain the thought.

He compels his gaze to remain alert, darting looks toward the window from time to time.

Toward the city center in the far off, brilliant neon bathes the night sky in vivid crimson.

Anxiety swirls within Ah Le's chest, leaving him uncertain about the unfolding events there or if they progressed without issue.

Tap, tap, tap.

Abruptly, subtle footfalls echo along the hallway.

Ah Le's pulse races erratically, his once-wandering eyes snapping into sharp focus.

Suppressing the fierce ache in his midsection, he clamps his left palm over the injury while seizing the tabletop dagger firmly in his right grip.

His form coils taut like a bow at full draw, fixing a savage stare on the dented security entrance.

Click.

The key slips into the lock, generating a stark, grating noise amid the hushed evening.

Shortly thereafter, the mechanism rotates, and the door eases open with care.

"Who?!"

Ah Le whispered harshly, his hold on the dagger intensifying.

"It’s me."

A voice he knew well responded.

Click.

The living room's lamp activated, flooding the space with a soft golden radiance in an instant.

Ah Le discerned the silhouette in the doorway distinctly, his frame quivering uncontrollably as the dagger tumbled from his fingers to clank against the floor.

Fang Cheng positioned himself at the threshold, steadying a bedraggled elderly figure who stumbled inside.

That individual was Shen Wei.

His attire torn to shreds, locks in wild disarray, and features smeared with soil, yet his gaze radiated a potent, wild intensity.

"Chairman! You... you’re back?!"

Ah Le's eyes brimmed with tears, as he attempted to rise, only for the motion to strain his wound and contort his features in torment.

"Don’t move, sit down."

Fang Cheng closed the door nonchalantly, assisted Shen Wei onto the living room couch, and then pivoted to draw a mug of steaming water.

Shen Wei grasped the enamel vessel between his palms, the soothing heat diffusing from his hands throughout his limbs, eliciting a long, relieved exhalation.

He scanned the compact abode, measuring under sixty square meters.

Faded yellowed walls, a dated overhead fan, and a handful of weathered furnishings arranged with precision.

The setup, though basic, maintained spotless order, with the tabletop utterly free of grime.

As his sight settled on the severely splintered and indented red pine board amid the living room's floor, Shen Wei's pupils narrowed subtly.

Obviously, a forceful stomp from a boot had shattered it.

Images flashed of the plunge from the rooftop and the form ascending from the chopper's flaming debris, prompting Shen Wei to shake his head in sardonic amusement.

Who could foresee that an elite Killing God-rank powerhouse would dwell in such unassuming quarters?

The guise of a premier club instructor plainly served as a front for sampling ordinary existence.

This might embody the essence of "concealing one's depths amid the urban sprawl," a perspective reserved for the mightiest?

Shen Wei sipped from the warm water in his mug.

Raising his view to Fang Cheng, his expression blended profound thanks with traces of reverence and esteem.

Next, his attention moved to the guard nearby, where he finally observed the crimson stain bleeding through Ah Le’s abdominal wrapping and creased his brow faintly:

"Ah Le, how’s your injury?"

"I won’t die."

Ah Le shook his head, his gaze fixing intently on Shen Wei:

"Chairman, did you reach an agreement with those kidnappers? How much did we lose this time?"

With these words, he uttered a sorrowful sigh, his countenance brimming with outrage:

"Alas, I really can’t accept it, we lost so many brothers..."

From his perspective, while Fang Cheng proved impressive, he probably depended on swiftness to infiltrate for extraction or bargaining at worst.

The Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps brimmed with nightmarish entities, all endowed with extraordinary abilities, making them formidable adversaries.

Shen Wei lowered the cup, offering a rueful laugh:

"No money was spent."

"No money was spent?"

Ah Le went rigid at the revelation:

"Can those monsters be spoken to so easily?"

"The dead don’t require money."

Shen Wei cast a profound glance at Fang Cheng, his voice carrying an ominous weight:

"The Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps, along with their leader Masked Guest, have all gone to meet King Yan. Mr. Fang alone wiped them all out."

"Wha... what?!"

Ah Le's eyes ballooned, his jaws slackening nearly to the point of dislocating.

In stunned silence, he pivoted to observe Fang Cheng sifting through a cupboard.

That silhouette seems utterly commonplace, akin to the friendly youth next door—scarce trace of a slaying demon lord anywhere.

Solo eradication of a mutant powerhouse-filled mercenary outfit?

Contrasting his own futility against those abominations, Ah Le's thoughts reeled in profound disbelief.

Is this even a person?

Quietude descended over the room for several moments.

Shen Wei extracted a crumpled cigarette packet from his attire.

As he prepared to ignite one, a look toward Fang Cheng made him tuck it away wordlessly.

"This matter isn’t so simple."

Regaining his poise as a veteran underworld figure, Shen Wei addressed them gravely:

"Only a few core higher-ups knew about going to the warehouse."

"We were tailed as soon as our convoy left Jiangdong District. For someone to so accurately track our movements, there must be a traitor at home."