Chapter 1201: Brother Lang's thought process is amazing!

Lin Lang gently placed the baby Haoting, who had just finished drinking milk and was dozing off, into the crib. He then teased the baby Zhitian, who was being held by Gu Ran. When he turned around, the tenderness in his eyes had completely turned into a cold, sharp edge.

He raised his hand and ruffled Gu Ran's hair, his voice low but filled with undeniable certainty: "I'll go find the murderer and give Bai Mengfan an explanation."

Gu Ran nodded and gently instructed, "Husband, don't go too far with the killing."

"Don't worry." Lin Lang leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Gu Ran's forehead.

Immediately afterwards, Lin Lang activated the [Space-Time Mass Teleportation] skill, precisely locking onto the time of Bai Mengfan's murder in his mind—early last night, in an alley next to an abandoned warehouse in the suburbs.

The next second, a faint halo appeared around Lin Lang. In the distortion of space and time, he found himself in the wet alley. Rain mixed with the smell of rust hit him, and the sounds of fierce fighting could be faintly heard in the distance.

Lin Lang flashed and hid in the shadows of the corner, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's.

Three men in black were seen surrounding a figure curled up on the ground. It was Bai Mengfan, who had been the victim of a deliberate act of revenge. His camera was smashed to the side, the lens was broken, and there was blood on the corner of his mouth.

"You ungrateful wretch! I told you not to meddle in other people's business, but you insisted on bringing up the gutter oil issue. Today is your death day!" The scarred man at the head of the group held a dagger that gleamed coldly in the rainy night.

"I am a journalist, and it is my responsibility to expose the truth... You scum will be punished by law sooner or later!"

No sooner had Bai Mengfan finished speaking than he was stabbed several times in the abdomen. He struggled to get up, but was held down firmly by another tall, thin man.

"The law?" Scarface sneered, raising his dagger to stab Bai Mengfan in the chest. "Today I'll let you taste what it means to be utterly helpless!"

After saying that, he plunged the knife into Bai Mengfan's abdomen again, causing Bai Mengfan's face to contort in pain.

At this critical moment, Lin Lang darted out like a ghost and kicked Scarface in the wrist.

With a crisp "crack," the dagger flew out of his hand, and Scarface screamed in pain as his wrist was broken.

The other two men in black were terrified and simultaneously attacked Lin Lang with their knives.

Lin Lang's eyes sharpened. He dodged the attack by turning his body, grabbed the arm of the man on his left, and twisted it hard. There was another crisp sound of bone cracking, and the man immediately collapsed to the ground, howling in pain.

Seeing this, the skinny guy on the right tried to run away, but Lin Lang hooked his toe and the skinny guy stumbled and fell to the ground. Lin Lang stepped forward and stepped on his back, making him unable to move.

The whole process took no more than ten seconds, and all three thugs were subdued.

Bai Mengfan collapsed in a pool of blood, instinctively clutching the knife wound in his abdomen. He looked at Lin Lang, who had suddenly appeared, with pain and despair, his eyes filled with shock: "Lin... Lin Lang?"

Bai Mengfan, on the verge of death, was spitting blood and unable to utter complete sentences. His body was curled up in the rain, convulsing.

Lin Lang crouched down and helped him pick up the broken camera, then said in a deep voice, "Squad leader, do you have any last words?"

"Pfft..." Bai Mengfan vomited a mouthful of blood. He wanted to say a few last words, but his injuries were too severe to hold on any longer.

Just then, Scarface got up and tried to run away, but Lin Lang snapped his fingers and summoned a clone.

Lin Lang's clone immediately triggered the [Space-Time Mass Teleportation] skill, and a faint light emanated from his palm, instantly enveloping the three murderers who had intended to kill Bai Mengfan.

"call out……"

The next second, three suspects appeared on the summit of the Himalayas.

The timeline is 1953.

The icy wind, like countless icy blades, scraped across the skin with a tearing pain. The three thugs, who had just recovered from the dizziness of time travel, were instantly seized by an extreme chill, their teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Their thin autumn clothes were practically useless in the sub-zero temperatures; the cold seeped in through their collars and cuffs, making their blood feel like it was about to freeze.

"Holy crap...where...where am I?"

Scarface was still in excruciating pain from the fracture in his wrist, but he was so shocked by the sight before him that he forgot the pain.

Looking out, all that could be seen was pure white. The continuous snow-capped mountains coiled like silver dragons on the horizon, and the glaciers reflected a dazzling light under the thin sunlight.

The clouds were so low they seemed within reach, and the howling wind filled our ears. It was magnificent yet breathtaking, carrying a deadly sense of oppression.

The tall, thin man instinctively shrank his neck, and instantly his snot turned into ice crystals that hung on the tip of his nose.

He tried to wipe it away, but found that his fingers were too stiff to bend, and his arm, which had just been twisted and broken, was in excruciating pain. Every tremor pulled at the wound, making him gasp for breath.

"Damn it, it hurts so much!"

"What the hell is this place?"

Another accomplice slumped in the snow, his legs weak and shivering from the biting cold. He stared wide-eyed at the endless expanse of ice and snow around him, his voice trembling with tears: "Weren't we just in the alley?"

"How did we suddenly end up in such a cold place? Where am I?!"

Scarface struggled to his feet, shivering from the cold. His gaze swept over the distant snow-capped peaks that pierced the clouds, and his heart sank: "This...this looks like a snow mountain?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the figure of Lin Lang, the clone, slowly emerged from the wind and snow. He was surrounded by a faint halo, and because he possessed the passive skill [Cold Resistance Enhancement], he did not feel the cold at all.

"Killing you all directly would be too easy for you." The voice of the clone Lin Lang came through the wind and snow, carrying a chilling coldness.

"I'd like to see if it's more interesting for you to be frozen into ice sculptures on this Himalayan mountaintop than to die by the sword." A cold smile curled at the corner of Lin Lang's lips.

The three thugs were instantly stunned. The skinny man pointed at the clone Lin Lang, his lips trembling, "W-who are you? Why do you look so familiar..."

Scarface's pupils contracted sharply, as if he suddenly remembered something, and his face turned ashen.

"Holy crap! Isn't this Lin Lang, the chairman of the Lin Group? You... what are you doing here?"

"Did you bring us here?"

Lin Lang, his clone, faced the wind and snow, enjoying the cold wind, and said with a wicked smile, "Dead people don't need to know so much."

"Please, Mr. Lin!" The tall, thin man knelt down in the snow with a thud, ignoring the excruciating pain from his wounds, and repeatedly kowtowed and begged, "We know we were wrong. We shouldn't have tried to kill him, and we shouldn't have been in the gutter oil business!"

"Please take us back! We'll freeze to death if we stay here any longer!"

Scarface and his accomplice also begged for mercy, their voices filled with despair, their snot and tears freezing into ice as soon as they came out.

Lin Lang, the clone, sneered, his eyes devoid of any pity: "Wrong? When you killed a reporter, did you not consider his feelings?"

"To freeze to death on this Himalayan mountaintop and become an eternal ice sculpture is your destiny."

After saying that, the clone Lin Lang waved with a wicked smile, and the aura around him grew fainter and fainter: "I'm leaving. Have a 'pleasant journey'."

Before he finished speaking, his clone Lin Lang was recalled by the system after completing the mission. His figure turned into specks of light and disappeared completely into the wind and snow.

The cold wind grew stronger, whipping up snowflakes that stung our faces.

The three thugs were stunned by the sudden disappearance of Lin Lang. They collapsed in despair on the top of the Himalayas. The thin air made it difficult for them to breathe, and they soon developed altitude sickness.

They were determined to save themselves, but found that their legs were already numb from the cold, making it difficult even to stand.

"Fuck!"

"Is Lin Lang even human? How did he manage to come and go freely on Mount Everest?" Scarface was so shocked that his pupils dilated.

"It's so cold! I feel like I'm about to freeze to death," the tall, thin man muttered to himself, his teeth chattering.

He had barely finished speaking when a gust of cold wind choked him, causing him to cough violently. A metallic taste rose in his throat, but it froze into ice crystals the moment it touched his lips.

Another companion, also suffering from severe altitude sickness, huddled in the snow, his arms tightly tucked under his armpits, but this insignificant movement was no match for the bitter cold.

His vision began to blur, and images of the warm kang (heated brick bed) in his hometown and the hot soup noodles his mother made appeared before his eyes. But the next second, these warm scenes were torn apart by the swirling snow, leaving only the biting cold.

"I don't want to die..." Scarface's voice was barely audible. Tears and snot froze on his face, making it difficult to even blink. His eyelids felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

The tall, thin man, struggling to breathe, quickly lost the strength to struggle.

He collapsed in the snow, his body beginning to convulse uncontrollably, his breathing growing weaker and weaker, each breath feeling like he was inhaling countless shards of ice, burning his throat and lungs.

He watched the clouds rushing across the sky, his heart filled with endless regret.

If he hadn't followed Scarface in his dealings with gutter oil, and if he hadn't killed that reporter, he might still be in his rented room watching TV and eating hot meals, instead of waiting to die here.

However, there is no going back in this world.

Time passed slowly, but the cold winds blowing from the top of the Himalayas never stopped.

Without any mountaineering equipment or warm clothing, attempting to rescue oneself on the summit of Mount Everest at an altitude of over 8800 meters is practically an impossible task.

The three thugs supported each other, huddled together like penguins for warmth, but could only watch helplessly as their body temperature slowly evaporated, their consciousness gradually blurred, and they unconsciously muttered "help."

But all they received in response was endless wind and snow and biting cold.

It was truly a case of crying out to heaven and earth in vain.

It has to be said, Lin Lang is really wicked.

An ordinary person's thought process would never come up with the idea of ​​taking three thugs to the top of the Himalayas and freezing them into ice sculptures.

The wind and snow continued to rage, the swirling snowflakes like white knives, repeatedly cutting into the three gradually stiffening bodies.

Soon, Scarface's consciousness completely dissipated. The pain from his broken wrist and the chills throughout his body intertwined, but it was far less intense than the despair in his heart.

The three assailants' bodies gradually lost temperature, their convulsions slowed down, and finally stopped completely.

They remained in their dying poses, completely frozen into ice sculptures.

Scarface stared wide-eyed, seemingly still fixed on the distant snow-capped peaks, his face frozen with resentment and fear.

The tall, thin man was curled up, his hands tightly clutching his broken arm, a hint of pleading still lingering at the corner of his mouth.

The last accomplice lay on his back in the snow, staring at the sky, his face filled with numbness and despair.

The snow covered them layer by layer, and then froze at low temperatures, forming a thick ice shell.

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining on the three ice sculptures and reflecting a cold, dazzling light, blending into the magnificent snow-capped mountains around them, becoming an eternal, ironic landscape.

What bad intentions could Brother Lang possibly have? He just enjoys looking at ice sculptures.