Tao Fengche never thought that one day, the weapon specifically developed to deal with enemies would be aimed at him.

He raised his head, carefully examining the two bodyguards in front of him from head to toe, as if trying to commit their faces to memory.

The bodyguards lowered their heads, standing still at the door, allowing Tao Fengche’s gaze to sweep over them repeatedly, like two silent stone statues.

Tao Fengche had an excellent memory. When he previously inspected the base, he memorized the main personnel in half a day, let alone these bodyguards who had been stationed at his home for years—he remembered each of them clearly.

Just four months ago, at Tao Zhixing’s funeral, these two bodyguards were still standing in front of him, forming a solid wall of protection alongside the others, silently raising their guns at Sui Yuesheng, ready to fire on his command.

But now, under Sui Yuesheng’s orders, they stood at the door in an unyielding posture, their guns pointed at him.

…However, it wasn’t that the bodyguards had turned against him, or that Sui Yuesheng had won them over too quickly.

The Tao family trained their bodyguards according to the standards used to train death warriors in ancient times. Bodyguards obeyed only the head of the Tao family—the owner of the jade ring. If the head of the family hadn’t given orders, past loyalties could still hold some sway, allowing for leniency. But once their orders conflicted with the head’s, they would follow the command without hesitation.

When Tao Fengche was young, he’d heard many stories from Xu Song about the loyalty of bodyguards. During his rebellious teenage years, he even fantasized about taking over the family authority from his father and having them swear allegiance to him—it must have felt like moving a limb at will, right?

But he never imagined there would come a day when the object of their loyalty was not him, and they would turn their fangs on him.

Reflecting on the scene at the funeral, Tao Fengche felt a subtle sense of irony, as if fate had come full circle.

The bodyguards had clearly shown their stance, and Tao Fengche understood that if he insisted on forcing his way out, they would indeed use tranquilizer guns to knock him out.

He wasn’t planning to test the effectiveness of the special tranquilizers on himself, so he took half a step back to signal his retreat.

Seeing this, both bodyguards breathed a sigh of relief—they didn’t want to fight with Tao Fengche if they could avoid it. Even though Sui Yuesheng was now the head of the Tao family, Tao Fengche still bore the Tao name and was the last surviving bloodline of the Tao family.

However, Tao Fengche didn’t turn to leave as they had hoped.

He stood still for a moment, then suddenly let out a mocking laugh. “Even now, I’ll ask one more time. Are you dead set on not letting me out, even if I’m just going to the shooting range?”

Upon hearing this, the two bodyguards lowered their heads further, their faces tense, jaws clenched, showing they were not entirely unaffected. But under Tao Fengche’s gaze, they finally nodded with difficulty and softly called him “Young Master,” saying nothing more.

“Fine,” Tao Fengche said, his smile growing wider and more sarcastic, “Fine!”

He raised his voice and repeated the word, but the bodyguards kept their heads down, not daring to look at him, still refusing to step aside.

Unwilling to waste more time at the door, Tao Fengche turned and left without a word, heading straight to the gym on the first floor of the main house.

As he reached the door, a bodyguard, likely having received instructions via radio, silently followed him in training gear, preparing to serve as his sparring partner. Tao Fengche immediately sent him away.

—He had no interest in venting his anger on a human punching bag. The bodyguards were simply doing their duty, and such loyal subordinates, “fearless of authority,” deserved to be rewarded, not punished.

But the frustration and anger that had built up within him were very real.

He locked himself in the gym, silently took off his jacket, threw it forcefully onto the floor, and wrapped his hands tightly with bandages before punching the hanging sandbag.

Over an hour later, Tao Fengche, shirtless and drenched in sweat, pushed open the gym door, holding his soaked shirt in one hand. Behind him lay two sandbags, utterly destroyed.

The gym was a mess, like a tornado had swept through it, and Tao Fengche’s face was as cold as ever. No one dared to say a word. As he walked upstairs, even the bodyguard guarding the staircase instinctively stepped aside, respectfully giving him a clear path.

But even then, no one suggested that perhaps they should just let him go to the shooting range to blow off steam—it was in the yard, after all, and nothing would happen.

Even Xu Song remained silent.

Tao Fengche returned to his room, tossing his shirt into the laundry basket and grabbing clean clothes from the wardrobe to shower. The warm water washed away the sweat and dust on his body, and some of the irritation and anxiety left with it.

But when he finished showering and stepped out of the bathroom, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, he casually glanced at the yard and saw the bodyguards patrolling in groups. All the mental preparation he had done evaporated.

Once again, negative emotions surged up, swallowing him whole.

Tao Fengche thought of the bodyguards he had seen while walking upstairs, their ever-present gazes, and the two bodyguards stationed at the stairs, their eyes fixed on him.

Despite being at home, in the familiar room he had lived in since childhood, Tao Fengche felt a sudden suffocation.

The air turned into thick cement, clogging his throat, making it hard to breathe. He wanted to open the window and shout, to vent even a fraction of his frustration.

But he didn’t.

…he had already realized that his movements were confined to the main house.

The Tao family mansion covered a vast area, and the main house was as large as a castle. Close business associates often praised it when they visited.

But once imprisoned within it, even the finest house was just a glorified cage.

Tao Fengche locked himself in his room, pacing from the study to the wardrobe, then back to the bedroom like a trapped beast. After unknowingly walking the same path eight times, he snapped out of it and stopped.

—This can’t go on. If I keep this up, I’ll think I’m developing obsessive behavior.

He stood by the window, no longer pacing, and yanked the curtains shut, blocking out the view of the yard and the prying eyes of the bodyguards. Then he threw himself onto the bed.

The long night ahead—perhaps sleep would make everything better.

Tao Fengche consoled himself.

But fate did not oblige. Perhaps it was because his mind was troubled, but he tossed and turned for hours, only falling asleep after two in the morning, only to wake from a nightmare a little after five.

The feeling of being on the edge of life and death in the dream was too real, the scenes of severed limbs too vivid. Even after returning to reality, Tao Fengche could still recall the panic of running out of ammunition.

Breathing heavily and drenched in cold sweat, he reached under his pillow, pulling out his Desert Eagle. He disassembled and inspected the magazine, then reassembled the gun, his breathing gradually steadying with the familiar motion. He placed the gun back in its place and left the room.

Under the silent gaze of the bodyguards, Tao Fengche walked to the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge for a large bottle of lemon water.

The night shift maid and chef exchanged glances, and the former carefully asked, “Young Master, would you like something to eat?”

Tao Fengche shook his head, grabbed a glass, poured the lemon water, and added a generous amount of ice.

The maid cringed just watching, trying to politely dissuade him, but Tao Fengche ignored her, downing the entire glass in one go and slowly chewing on a piece of ice. The cold shiver that ran through him finally dulled the blood-soaked thoughts swirling in his mind.

He placed the empty glass on the counter and sighed.

“Has Sui Yuesheng returned?”

His voice sounded weary, and the maid hesitated but spoke the truth.

“…Not yet.”

Tao Fengche nodded slightly and said no more. He left the kitchen, returned to his room, and climbed back into his still-warm bed, sinking back into his chaotic dreams.

The next morning at nine, Tao Fengche sat at the dining table, calmly eating shrimp dumplings, showing no sign of the nightmares that had haunted him all night.

Xu Song stood by, occasionally refilling his glass with soy milk. Tao Fengche didn’t look up. After finishing the last shrimp dumpling, he casually asked, “Where is my brother?”

Xu Song was taken aback. “He went to the company.”

Tao Fengche nodded noncommittally and asked, “He didn’t come back all night?”

The tone didn’t sound like a question, but rather a statement of certainty.

“…”

Xu Song felt a sudden sense of pressure. Ever since Tao Fengche’s relationship with Sui Yuesheng had cooled, he hadn’t faced this version of Tao Fengche for a long time.

He held his breath and tried to gauge Tao Fengche’s thoughts, cautiously replying, “Yes.”

Tao Fengche responded with a casual “Mm,” as if it were just a casual inquiry. Then he picked up a spoon, stirred the black rice congee in his bowl, and carefully scooped up a spoonful to examine it.

The black rice congee was soft, sticky, and thick. Tao Fengche looked at it for a long time before counting the grains, then, satisfied, placed it in his mouth and slowly chewed for quite a while before finally swallowing.

Xu Song thought the matter had been put to rest, but seeing Tao Fengche’s demeanor made his heart suddenly leap to his throat.

Sure enough, after finishing that spoonful of congee, Tao Fengche waved his hand and dismissed the surrounding servants.

“That phone call last night was about the family’s secret business, wasn’t it?” Tao Fengche asked.

“Yes.” Xu Song forced a smile. “Young master, you truly have keen insight; nothing can escape your notice…”

“Don’t say such things.” Tao Fengche frowned slightly and asked, “With such a big commotion, who died?”

He asked the question, but in his heart, he already had a few candidates in mind—people who had been present during the reading of Tao Zhixing’s will at the funeral, both old and young, even Elder Sun, who was currently ill at home, made the list.

But no matter how hard Tao Fengche tried, he couldn’t guess Xu Song’s answer.

“The deceased is… Liu Tianlei.”