Chapter 687: Chapter 625: Another Encounter?
Those with experience in stealth all know that stealth can sometimes be more exhausting than killing.
The circuitous route was longer and more taxing than anticipated, consuming both mental and physical energy.
Every pause, every concealment, and every movement accelerated the depletion of Feng Ju’s stamina.
Luckily, the three combatants were "well-behaved," not sprinting around wildly or expanding the battlefield like a demolition crew.
What felt like a century passed, and finally, utterly exhausted, Feng Ju successfully maneuvered to the backside of the commissioner’s villa, as if passing through a minefield!
Safe at last!
Unless those three had X-ray vision, they wouldn’t be able to spot him now.
Crouching at the base of the wall, Feng Ju slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping across several windows in a row, one of which wasn’t fully closed.
Feng Ju wiped away the sticky sweat on his forehead, an uncontrollable, exhilarated grin spreading across his lips.
"Indeed, tonight Destiny is particularly favoring me."
In his heart, Feng Ju was immensely grateful that the commissioner hadn’t chosen the renovation style of the villa next door, sealing all doors and windows.
He quietly pushed open the window and slipped inside without a sound.
The warm, dry indoor air mixed with the scent of expensive incense hit him, a stark contrast to the cold, damp bushes outside.
Feng Ju squatted on the carpet, his eyes quickly scanning the entire room, confirming it was the dining room of the villa.
Earlier today, while staying on the first floor of the villa, he had memorized the layout.
The dining room was connected to an open kitchen, where a dim wall lamp emitted a warm glow.
Under the lamp, a maid sat in a chair facing away from the dining room entrance, nodding off now and then.
On the stove before her, several pots simmered, each emitting faint aromas, with steam weaving a hazy veil in the light.
Since the commissioner hadn’t returned that night, she had to keep the meal warm, ready to serve the moment he came back for a late supper.
Otherwise, she would become the commissioner’s late supper.
Previously, the maid had wanted to be the commissioner’s "late supper," but after Cuihua was actually eaten by him, none dared harbor such thoughts.
Feng Ju eyed the maid’s back, approaching step by step.
The distance closed... three meters... two meters... one meter...
The aroma of food masked the blood scent clinging to Feng Ju, and it wasn’t until he stood right behind her that the maid sensed someone was behind her.
The hydraulic component of the mechanical arm emitted a slight hum, and the alloy fingers accurately gripped the maid’s chin while the other hand clasped her nape.
"Crack!"
Effortlessly, her head was twisted completely around, her expression forever frozen in a moment of terror.
Feng Ju placed the head neatly beside the bubbling pots on the stovetop, forming a bizarrely harmonious tableau.
He propped up the limp, headless body, gently laying it down on the cold tiles.
The practiced movements were chilling.
Though it was Feng Ju’s first time stealthily committing murder, and he officially had no experience, he performed unusually well, as though guided by a well-honed memory.
This dissonant skill proficiency stemmed from a deeply memorable experience: he was once killed in the same manner by his own daughter.
Indeed, the experience of being assassinated by his daughter from behind had only needed to happen once to be branded onto his soul, perfecting his backstabbing skill.
Feng Ju looked down at the blood spreading across the tiles, a nostalgic smile on his face.
His gaze fell on the knife rack in the kitchen.
He walked over, silently drawing out a sharp carving knife, its cold handle heavy in his grasp.
He held the knife, silently heading towards the servants’ quarters.
He gently pushed open a half-closed door, revealing several single beds in a row inside, the figures beneath the covers rising and falling gently with every breath, oblivious to the approaching death.
Feng Ju moved to the first bed, without hesitation, without mercy.
The sharp blade arced through the darkness, falling precisely, and warm liquid gushed instantly, soaking the bedding, yet the sleeping person didn’t have time to utter even a groan.
Using the same method, he approached the second bed...
Half a minute later, Feng Ju exited the servants’ room, lightly closing the door.
No combat took place throughout, only stealthy assassinations; Feng Ju handled it effortlessly.
He walked to the kitchen sink, turning on the faucet to a trickle.
The water cascaded over the blade, washing the blood away in a swirling pink vortex, eventually disappearing down the drain.
He fetched a dish towel, meticulously wiping the blade clean, the distorted image of his face reflecting from the knife’s surface.
He mused, "When Yuhuai killed me from behind, was it the same?"
Now, only he, Feng Ju, remained as the sole "living person" in the expansive villa.
Finally, he could drop his stealth disguise and freely search for the Sheepskin Scroll.
He was confident the Sheepskin Scroll was on the villa’s second floor, though he wasn’t sure in which specific room it was hidden.
Yet, this was no obstacle for Feng Ju!
The second-floor hallway was lined with plush, expensive carpet, six white wooden doors spaced evenly along it.
Feng Ju walked along the carpet, the hallway’s sensor lights illuminating sequentially with his steps, a carpet of light paving the way for the victor.
He opened each door in turn.
The first room was the commissioner’s bedroom, draped in velvet curtains;
The second was a study, walls lined with ancient tomes exuding the scent of ink;
The third...
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