Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1452 - 700: Home Renovation, White Ghost Appears (Part 2)

"Mom, listen to me first."

Fang Cheng interrupted her worries at the right moment, presenting the reasons he had prepared:

"Now the renovation of the tubular building is underway, and I’ve invested a lot of money into it, but I still have to work at the nursing home during the day, so I really don’t have the time to oversee it. The construction site is entirely relying on you to keep an eye on it."

"These days, you’ve been running back and forth every day, and taking the bus or a taxi is not convenient and quite tiring. Now that there’s a dedicated vehicle to pick you up, you can even lie down and take a nap on the way."

At this point, Fang Cheng’s tone deepened, his relaxed expression retracted, and he looked at his mother earnestly:

"And there’s one more important point. The business between Xu Sanduo and me has grown larger, inevitably attracting competitors who might become envious, or even draw in criminals looking to profit."

"You know how deep the waters run in the antiques industry, there are many underhanded tricks, and there’s no telling who might use some nasty tactics behind the scenes, targeting my family."

Su Xiaoyong used to serve in the special forces, his skills are excellent. With him staying by your side, I can focus on my work outside and feel assured, without having to constantly worry about your safety."

Upon hearing the last sentence, Li Biyun’s concerns about "wasting money" and "being too ostentatious" instantly froze.

As long as it concerns her son’s safety and career, she habitually compromises.

Li Biyun glanced deeply at the robust figure and resolute eyes of Su Xiaoyong, then looked at Fang Cheng, finally sighing helplessly:

"Alright, since you’ve arranged everything, I’ll do as you say, son."

She paused for a moment, unable to resist murmuring softly:

"But the money spent... alas, you’ll still have many places to use the money in the future, don’t always think about me, spend it wisely."

Fang Cheng, looking at his mother’s slightly pained yet unmistakably reassuring face, responded with a smile, and casually brushed some white dust off her shoulder.

In front of the wide window opening without glass, fine dust danced up and down in the sunlight.

Su Xiaoyong stood silently a few steps away, watching the mother and son bathed in light and shadow, feeling an inexplicable touch in his heart.

Having lost his parents at a young age, accustomed to fighting bloodily on the battlefield, he had witnessed too many separations and deaths.

Roaming and drifting for half his life, his deepest yearning was to integrate into a real family, to find a stable spiritual home.

Since the Chairman founded the Illuminati with goals aligned with his ideals, it gave him a sense of belonging.

In days to come, he only needs to guard this peace for the Chairman, to fend off all unseen troubles for this family.

That’s enough.

The momentarily paused sound of the electric drill resumed, filling the entire floor again.

However, amidst the turbulent and noisy surroundings, the vision of a new life made it seem less clamorous.

.........

In the deep night of East Capital, it seemed like a maze of desires.

Outside the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, the prosperous and dazzling night view was unobstructed.

The LED screens embedded in the exterior walls of the skyscrapers flickered, casting a dreamy halo into the dim interior.

Colorful neon lights penetrated the glass, slowly shifting over the thick handwoven cashmere carpet, adding a touch of ambiguous atmosphere.

The air conditioning in this luxurious suite located on the top floor of a city center landmark building was set to high.

The giant crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling was not powered, and only a few dim wall lamps were lit around.

Heavy breathing and entangled sounds emanated from the wide, soft European-style bed.

Silk sheets were scattered at the end of the bed.

A muscular man pinned a blonde, blue-eyed woman beneath him.

The woman’s fair arms were wrapped around the man’s neck, and subdued moans escaped her throat.

The air was filled with the mingled scent of high-end perfume and sweat.

The two on the bed were immersed in the lingering effects of desire, oblivious to the odd transformation occurring in the corner of the suite.

Near the floor-to-ceiling window, the air suddenly rippled with a faint wave as if a pebble had been thrown into a calm lake.

The city neon lights reflected on the carpet twisted bizarrely.

A faint white mist emerged out of thin air, like a living entity, slowly gathering along the floor.

A few seconds later, a slender and tall white silhouette appeared within the mist.

This figure, like a ghost wandering the human world at midnight, roamed the earth.

His shoes stepping on the cashmere carpet produced no friction sound, with even the minute airflow around him completely isolated by a special force field.

He stepped forward, silently nearing the large bed.

His right hand hanging at his side gripped the hilt of a white-painted katana firmly.

His thumb against the metal guard, pushing forward.

A cold metal blade slid out of the scabbard.

At this moment, a deep blue advertising beam flashed outside the window.

The beam penetrated the glass, refracting on the freshly unsheathed blade, casting a sharp reflection in the dim room.

This reflection happened to sting the man’s pupils on the bed.

Danger!

The instinctive alertness from years spent on the edge between life and death tightened the man’s nerves instantly.

Muscles on his back suddenly contracted as adrenaline surged in.

Almost a reflex action!

He powered through his back and pressed down on the shoulders of the blonde woman beneath him, roughly shoving her to the other side of the bed.

Using this momentum, the man pushed off the mattress with his legs, rapidly rolling aside to create distance, trying to fall off the bed.

However, his proudly swift moves seemed particularly clumsy in front of the white silhouette.

Before his back could touch the floor, a katana had already cut through the dim light.

The sharp blade steadied near his carotid artery, the cold metal severing a strand of surface sweat.

The man lay there stiff, his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

In extreme fright, his eyes widened and fixed on the blurry figure, blurting out:

"White Ghost!"

Upon hearing this name, the white silhouette beside the bed stopped the knife-wielding motion.

The mist surrounding him quickly dissipated, the optical cloaking nanocoating faded, revealing a clear face.

He donned an all-white high-tech tactical bodysuit, his muscle contours smooth and full.

A full-cover white metal mask adorned his face, only a narrow black one-way visor left at the eye area.

Beneath the mask, an electronically synthesized voice, processed by a voice changer, sounded extremely cold without any fluctuation:

"Night Owl, haven’t seen you in two months, your skills have not improved but deteriorated."

Only then did the blonde woman pushed to the bed’s edge suddenly react.

She grabbed a sheet instinctively covering her chest, looking at the masked figure wielding a longsword that appeared out of nowhere by the bedside, let out a piercing scream.

The White Ghost slowly turned his head, the black visor locking onto the curled-up woman.

His wrist slightly turned, and the katana’s blade instantly deviated from Night Owl’s neck, slanting toward the woman’s face.

A strong bloodthirsty aura, almost turning tangible, filled the entire room instantly.

That’s the terror and oppression ingrained from lingering in slaughter, harvesting countless lives.

The blonde woman’s screams stuck in her throat.

She trembled violently like sifted husks, teeth chattering, utterly drained of strength to roll off the bed and escape by the murderous intent.

Seeing this, Night Owl’s heart sank hard.

He was too aware of how perverse this man in front was.

The opponent was not only specially modified with much greater physical abilities but was also a lunatic obsessed with slaughter, devoid of normal emotions.

He thought White Ghost wanted to kill and silence.

"Don’t do it!"

Night Owl, disregarding his nakedness, hurriedly raised his hands, his tone mixed with urgency and submission:

"She’s just a peripheral socialite, knows nothing, spare her life, don’t make things big."

The White Ghost’s wrist paused mid-air.

The gaze under the visor lingered on the woman’s pale face for two seconds.

Then, he flipped his wrist, the blade drawing a sharp white line in the air, precisely sliding back into the sheath strapped to his back.

"Get out."

The cold words spat from under the mask.

The White Ghost didn’t spare another glance at the woman, his tone reflected extreme disdain:

"The blood of the weak would only soil my swordsmanship."

The blonde woman, feeling like granted amnesty, scrambled to grab her clothes off the floor, stumbled blindly out of the bedroom.

Soon, the hall outside resounded with chaotic collisions and the sound of doors slamming.

Silence returned to the suite.

Night Owl exhaled deeply, the tense muscles gradually relaxed.

Seeing this man who suddenly appeared in his room, he pulled a bitter smile at the corner of his mouth:

"Captain, how did you find me here?"