Chapter 32 Targeted

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One day earlier.
Aboard an abandoned small space station in the Marila System, Oster Constellation.
This was the secret base of the Angel Group in the Marila System.
As the head of the organization's underground operations in Marila, Brandon Arthur was living rather comfortably. The law enforcement in the lower-security systems wasn’t too intense, so unlike his colleagues in the high-security sectors, he didn’t have to spend every day in constant fear.
His daily routine was to deal with whatever matters required his attention, then enjoy a drink and some female company—simple pleasures that had become his habit.
Lately, Brandon had been in an exceptionally good mood, and for good reason.
He was about to be promoted. A man in high spirits when good fortune comes his way, and if the plan to kidnap the heiress of the N+S Group succeeded, considering how much Ye Jiadong doted on his daughter, even if he didn’t hand over all his shares to save her life, Brandon would still be able to carve out a hefty piece of the pie.
The Dragon Soaring Republic had strict bans on narcotics and illegal drugs. If Brandon could gain access to some of N+S Group’s channels, he would discreetly obtain several legitimate routes, opening up the vast underground market of the Dragon Soaring Republic. Smuggling and trafficking all kinds of contraband would become much easier.
Headquarters had already made it clear: if he succeeded, they would transfer him to headquarters.
Thanks to the machinations of an insider, Ye Tianyi had run away from home alone and entered Brandon’s territory. He easily tracked her precise movements—an opportunity too rare to pass up. Now he was just waiting for news of his men’s success.
If not for that serious crime he had committed in the Dragon Soaring Republic over a decade ago, which left him on their most-wanted list, Brandon would have carried out this crucial task himself. But self-preservation trumped ambition.
Yet, after waiting and waiting, no news arrived.
Growing uneasy, Brandon sent a small team to investigate the rendezvous point, led by his trusted lieutenant, Traton Ville. Several hours had passed since their departure—surely, there should have been word by now.
As he pondered, a communication request flashed on his system screen.
“Boss, Barlow and Barry both failed—the target has been picked up by the Ye family,” Traton reported on screen, his expression flat.
“What?” Brandon, swirling his wine glass in satisfaction, froze mid-motion, surprised. “And the men?”
“Barry and Barlow are both dead,” Traton replied.
“Useless! So many of them couldn’t even capture a little girl! Useless, all of them!” Brandon roared, smashing his glass into pieces. “Where is she now?”
“According to our information, N+S Group has her, and Ye Jiadong himself came to collect her,” Traton said. “They hired several destroyer-class warships as escort, and they’re now in high-security territory.”

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“Who ruined my plan?” Brandon asked coldly.
“We’re looking into it, and we already have some leads,” Traton replied.
“Find him! Kill him!” Brandon slammed the table, gritting his teeth. “No—bring him back alive. Anyone who dares mess with me, I’ll make sure he begs for death!”
…
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently caressing Han Feng’s face and chasing away his drowsiness.
Stretching out his stiff body, Han Feng—standing at 185 centimeters tall—felt the discomfort of another night spent curled up on the sofa.
He opened his eyes to find Tifa bent over, gazing at him with sparkling, smiling eyes.
“Sir, you’re awake. I was just about to call you,” Tifa’s voice was as clear and sweet as a lark’s. “I’ve made breakfast—come wash up and eat.”
With that, Tifa turned and brought out two steaming bowls of noodle soup from the kitchen, the aroma wafting through the air.
Han Feng’s room had a small, private kitchen, and the hotel had thoughtfully stocked the fridge with all the basic ingredients.
After washing up, Han Feng found Tifa sitting at the dining table, cupping her cheeks in her hands, lost in thought.
Taking a seat, Han Feng asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“Sir, what do you think the universe is like? I’ve never seen it,” Tifa said, her big eyes blinking with curiosity.
“I could take you to see it—you’ll find out for yourself,” Han Feng replied with a smile.
“Really? When do we leave?” Tifa’s interest was instantly piqued.
“Today,” Han Feng said, grinning.
“Ah!” Tifa exclaimed, jumping up from her seat in excitement.
“All right, let’s eat first. It’s important to fill our bellies,” Han Feng said, smiling at Tifa’s childlike joy—after all, she was his very first companion.
“Mmm, these noodles are quite good—delicious!” Han Feng devoured the bowlful of soup noodles with gusto. Salty, savory, and fragrant, the flavors were rich and layered. No wonder Tifa had once run the Seventh Heaven Tavern; she could turn even a simple bowl of noodles into something extraordinary.

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“There’s more if you want,” Tifa said, delighted by the praise and by the sight of Han Feng eating so heartily. For any chef, there was no greater joy than seeing someone finish every last bite of their food.
“I’m full, I’m full. You eat, and when you’re done, we’ll set out,” Han Feng said, patting his stomach and leaning back in satisfaction.
After a bit of tidying up, Han Feng took Tifa to the hotel front desk.
Bill happened to be on duty today. When he saw the stunning beauty suddenly at Han Feng’s side, his eyes lit up—such beauty was rare indeed.
Han Feng had checked in alone, yet now a breathtaking woman was with him. Bill shot Han Feng a knowing look that only men understood.
Seeing Bill’s look, Han Feng felt awkward, suspecting some misunderstanding.
Keeping a straight face, Han Feng ignored the blue-skinned fellow whose imagination was clearly running wild. He saw no need to explain—it would only make things worse.
Bill quickly handled the check-out, returned the deposit, and as they left, winked at Han Feng with a teasing, “Take care of yourself!”
Han Feng ignored him and walked off without a word.
Back in the car, Han Feng draped a black coat over Tifa’s shoulders. The weather was still chilly, and she was only wearing shorts and a sports vest.
Why another black coat?
Because black coats were the only kind Han Feng owned.
He planned to take Tifa to the administrative hall to get her an ID card, then buy a portable smart terminal—essentials in an interstellar society—and afterward, pay a visit to Old William’s weapon shop.
In an inconspicuous corner by the street, a hooded young man with purple skin watched their car drive away, eyes glinting. He’d been staking out the place all night, waiting for Han Feng to emerge.
He activated his smart terminal and sent a message to someone, then melted into the crowd.
“Target has left the hotel.”