Chapter 117: A Fatal Lapse

Staring relentlessly at the computer screen, Zhang Wenhao restrained even his breathing, barely daring to make a sound. At that very moment, footsteps echoed intermittently from upstairs—the sound came from Mo Sinan’s room. But Zhang Wenhao only heard one set of footsteps, no sign of a second person. Silently, he hoped everything would go smoothly; it was best if Mo Sinan’s room contained only himself. That would make things much easier.

Patiently monitoring every moment, time ticked by slowly. Finally, at 11:45 p.m., Zhang Wenhao spotted the assassin step into the elevator.

Yes, it was him! The elevator held only the assassin, who was holding a room card in his hand. Zhang Wenhao quickly pulled up the surveillance footage of the seventh floor. Soon, the assassin exited the elevator, disappearing from the elevator camera’s view and appearing in the seventh-floor corridor footage.

Zhang Wenhao watched as he swiped the card to enter the room, but after only three minutes, he emerged again.

A security guard soon hurried over, and the two exchanged words at the door. The assassin’s expression was clearly annoyed. The guard apologized repeatedly while taking the assassin’s room card with both hands and then turned to leave, boarding the elevator.

It seemed the guard thought the card was malfunctioning and had brought it to the front desk to exchange it. However, the receptionist found nothing wrong with the card and immediately checked the system. The system revealed issues with the power activation system; several attempts to activate it had failed. The receptionist explained the situation to the guard, who nodded and returned to the elevator.

Upon exiting the elevator, the guard approached the assassin again, patiently explaining something. The assassin was initially very angry, but the guard kept apologizing and expressing his helplessness. In the end, the assassin reluctantly nodded, pointing at the guard and mouthing something like, “Wait here.”

After more than ten minutes, the assassin reemerged dragging a rolling suitcase. The guard courteously tried to help, but was rudely brushed aside. The guard could only follow, escorting the assassin into the elevator and down to the front desk. The receptionist apologized again, then produced a new room card and swiped it.

With a snap, Zhang Wenhao saw on the room management system that room 8018 now showed as “occupied.” His heart leapt with joy. He thought to himself, “My guess was right. With only one deluxe suite left, the assassin chose to swap for an equivalent room rather than downgrade.”

Zhang Wenhao hurriedly cleared all traces of his computer usage but did not shut down the system. Instead, he turned off the power supply to the entire suite through the management system. Thus, the room would appear completely clean and secure to the assassin.

Just as Zhang Wenhao confirmed the command, the computer suddenly powered off. He immediately moved to the bedroom, pressing himself against the wall behind the door, holding his breath and controlling his heartbeat to avoid making any noise.

Zhang Wenhao had studied the room’s layout the moment he entered: a two-meter-long foyer led to the living room. To the left was a corridor; its left side held the walk-in closet and bathroom, while the right side was the bedroom. If the assassin entered, he might first go to the living room to entertain himself or head to the bathroom for a shower, but inevitably, he would come to the bedroom. Hidden behind the door, Zhang Wenhao could ambush him unexpectedly. With a gun strapped to his waist as backup, escape was impossible.

After about five minutes, the door emitted a series of beeps, then opened. Zhang Wenhao heard the assassin say, “Alright, you can get back to your work.”

“Really sorry, sir,” a man outside replied humbly. “Today’s problem was with our system. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

The assassin impatiently said, “Fine, go ahead.” Then the sounds of footsteps and the rolling suitcase entered the room. The door was closed, locked, and the security chain fastened.

Beep! The assassin successfully activated the power with his card.

The casual footsteps and the rolling suitcase’s wheels echoed into the living room, then ceased. The footsteps moved down the corridor. Zhang Wenhao tensed, uncertain whether the assassin would head first to the bedroom or the bathroom.

Then the footsteps turned in the opposite direction. Relief washed over Zhang Wenhao—it seemed he had gone to the bathroom.

This meant his guard would gradually lower. If he bathed and changed into pajamas, by the time he prepared to enter the bedroom to sleep, he would be entirely relaxed, even somewhat careless. That would be the perfect moment for Zhang Wenhao to strike and easily subdue him.

The sound of water filling the bathtub came from the bathroom. Footsteps returned to the walk-in closet, where the man was undressing and placing a metallic object on the cabinet surface—surely his gun.

Zhang Wenhao waited patiently. The assassin spent twenty minutes bathing, then changed clothes in the closet. Whistling, he walked toward the bedroom.

The footsteps drew closer and closer. Zhang Wenhao knew the assassin was about to enter. After a night of careful preparation, the moment to act had finally arrived.

His fists were clenched, his focus absolute. Once the assassin pushed open the bedroom door, Zhang Wenhao would be shielded by the door, ready to strike. The assassin would likely turn on the light first, and at that instant, Zhang Wenhao would spring forth and subdue him.

He warned himself silently: He must subdue him first, not kill immediately. Avoid using the gun unless absolutely necessary, for once the gun was fired, his carefully crafted plan would be ruined, forcing him to rely on an imperfect backup.

At this moment, Zhang Wenhao’s mind was more meticulous than even the most seasoned assassin. Experienced killers often grow complacent, but Zhang Wenhao, about to commit murder for the first time, had considered every possibility and prepared multiple contingencies for any sudden twists.

The footsteps reached the door. The assassin’s whistle continued; freshly showered and ready for bed, he was at his most vulnerable, unaware someone waited inside.

This was fatal complacency.

Click!

The door handle pressed down, and the door opened.

Light spilled through the doorway, casting the assassin’s shadow long across the bedroom floor.

The assassin stepped about half a meter inside. Zhang Wenhao saw from the shadow that he was about to turn and switch on the wall light. Zhang Wenhao thought: Now!

Suddenly, he dashed forward, his right palm transformed into a hand blade, striking hard at the assassin’s exposed neck.

The assassin was caught completely off guard. Though quick to react, he was still a step slower than Zhang Wenhao’s premeditated strike. Just as he turned, a heavy blow landed on his neck, and he immediately lost consciousness.

Zhang Wenhao caught his body to prevent bruising or marks on the wall or floor, then quickly checked his breathing and pulse. Relying on his medical knowledge, he was confident this man would not regain consciousness for at least thirty minutes.

He laid the assassin flat on the floor, staring coldly at the seemingly sleeping face, thinking, “You’ve been hunting me all along, but I found you first.”

He then rushed into the walk-in closet. Sure enough, he found the man’s clothes, phone, wallet, and gun carefully placed there. Clearly, the assassin trusted this hotel completely, locking the door and chain, leaving his gun behind in arrogant confidence. Such hubris deserved his fate tonight.

Zhang Wenhao gathered all the belongings into the bedroom and dressed the unconscious man in his clothes. It was now half past midnight. He examined the assassin’s phone—a brand he had never seen before, much smaller than usual, only half the size of an iPhone. Opening it, he found two read emails linked to the phone’s registered email account.

Both were written in English and very brief. The first read: “Take care of Tom.” The second: “How much longer?”

The first was sent two days after Chenning left Jiang City. It seemed to be an order from the organization after the assassin discovered Tom’s body—perhaps instructing him to handle Tom’s corpse.

The second was sent around 8 p.m. that evening, indicating the organization was growing impatient.

Zhang Wenhao then checked the sent emails and found two replies from the assassin.

The first reply, sent eight hours after the first email, read: “Tom is fine, rest assured.”

The second, sent at 8:20 p.m., read: “Found fox’s hair. The fox should appear soon.”

Zhang Wenhao exhaled in relief. The assassin had indeed found some crucial evidence about himself, but fortunately, he had not reported it back to his organization—and now, he never would.

Zhang Wenhao immediately replied to the second email in English: “The fox is right above me. Everything isI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.