Chapter 17 — Never Blame a Janitor

The old industrial park is located nearly an hour's drive from the city center, a complex of abandoned warehouses that once belonged to a textile and garment business that went bankrupt many years ago, now only the mossy walls and rusty barbed wire fences remain. This is exactly the type of location that illegal businessmen often choose to carry out transactions that require absolute secrecy, away from the eyes of passersby or public security camera systems.

When night completely fell, Dac Long, Ho Trong Nhan and two trusted staff approached the area from a hidden direction, parked the car about five hundred meters from the warehouse identified as the place where Anh Thu was detained, and moved the rest by road in the dark. Before departing, Dac Long changed his familiar security guard uniform into a neat dark suit that Ho Trong Nhan had prepared, carrying some basic support equipment - an infrared flashlight, a small switchblade, and an electric gun carefully hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Are you sure you want to go in yourself?" Ho Trong Nhan asked one last time, his eyes full of worry. "We can call more people and approach in a more professional and methodical way."

Dac Long shook his head, his voice decisive, leaving no room for argument. "There is no time. The more people there are, the easier it is to make noise, the easier it is for them to panic and take risks with my child. I will go in alone, you guys keep your position outside, only intervene when I give the signal or when there is a problem."

He checked all his equipment one last time, took a deep breath, and let the skills that had been dormant for nearly twenty years in his body gradually reawaken - the reflexes, the tactics of moving in the dark, the close combat techniques that he had been well-trained in as a youth, before entering the business path. He slipped through a gap in the rusty barbed wire fence, moving close to the warehouse wall, completely silent like a shadow.

Through the partially broken window, he observed the inside: the flashlights of two guards moved back and forth near a corner of the warehouse, where Anh Thu's hands were tied to an iron pole, her eyes were covered with a strip of cloth, but through the way she sat up straight, breathing evenly, Dac Long realized that his daughter was still awake, not seriously harmed - a small ray of hope amidst the storm of anxiety rolling in his heart.

He counted a total of four guards posted around the area, two of them were stationed inside near Anh Thu's place, the remaining two were patrolling outside on a fixed cycle of about eight minutes per round. Dac Long carefully observed that patrol cycle for nearly fifteen minutes, remembering exactly the moment of greatest vulnerability when both guards outside were at the same time farthest from the side door.

When the right moment came, he moved so quickly and smoothly that he almost didn't make any noise, approached the first guard who was standing with his back near the side door, and used a precise neck lock to knock him unconscious in just a few seconds without having time to make any cries for help. He gently placed his motionless body on the ground, took away the handgun he was carrying, and continued deeper inside.

The second watchman, when he discovered his accomplices had disappeared, quickly pulled out his gun and scanned the darkness, but it was too late - Dac Long was approaching from behind, a decisive blow to the back of his neck caused him to collapse immediately, not having time to press the alarm siren he was wearing at his waist.

Inside the warehouse, the two remaining guards were sitting and smoking near Anh Thu, still not realizing that their accomplices outside had been defeated. Dac Long closely observed the situation through a gap, noticing that both of them were carrying guns, sitting only about three meters away from his daughter, making the approach much more dangerous - with just a small mistake, they could completely turn their guns on Anh Thu before he could react.

He decided to use a diversionary tactic. Picking up a small stone, he gently threw it towards the opposite corner of the warehouse, making just enough noise to attract attention. One of the two guards stood up, held a gun and moved towards the source of the noise to check, leaving the position near Anh Thu. As soon as he disappeared behind a stack of old wooden crates, Dac Long approached him, used the switchblade he brought to control him from behind, one hand covering his mouth to prevent him from screaming, the other arm tightened around his neck until he was completely unconscious.

The last guard, when he saw that his comrades had been missing for an unusually long time, did not frantically call out his comrades' names like an amateur mercenary would do in that situation. He turned off the flashlight and backed away into the darkness next to the iron pillar where Anh Thu was tied up, a chillingly calm reflex that Dac Long immediately realized was not the instinct of a cheap hired man. Only when the weak light from the light bulb hanging high on the ceiling passed across a corner of his face did Dac Long realize, in a spine-chilling moment, who he was facing.

Mai Dinh Hung. Head of security department of Tang Phat Group - the name he had read over and over dozens of times in the file Ho Trong Nhan had quietly collected over the past several weeks, with a strong square face, short military-style hair, cold and calculating eyes of a battle-hardened former intelligence officer. It is not surprising that a mission so dangerous that it could destroy the entire empire if exposed - kidnapping a minor in broad daylight - was personally entrusted by Tang Bach Nguyen himself to the only person he trusted absolutely, instead of leaving it completely to the cheap mercenaries outside.

"Champ Dac Long," Mai Dinh Hung spoke, his voice so deep and calm that it made the entire atmosphere in the warehouse seem thick. He did not tremble, did not panic like the three accomplices who had just been defeated, the gun was still pointed straight at Anh Thu's head who was blindfolded, his finger resting loosely on the trigger with the cold precision of someone used to holding a weapon in life and death situations. "I thought you were really dead, or at least I hoped you were. Too bad you chose this exact night to reappear."

Dac Long stepped out of the darkness, his arms raised to shoulder height, but his eyes did not waver, silently measuring the distance between himself, Mai Dinh Hung and his daughter, calculating every square inch that could be utilized. "Let her go. The matter between me and Tang Bach Nguyen, let me deal with him directly, without bringing a child into it."

"Do you think I will bargain with you?" Mai Dinh Hung slightly curled his lips, a cold smile that never reached his eyes. "I'm not some of the guard boys you just defeated out there with some money or empty threats. You take one more step, I shoot, without thinking for another second."

There was no moment of hesitation for Dac Long to exploit this time, no hesitation of an amateur being easily bribed or threatened. He understood that, faced with a well-trained opponent like Mai Dinh Hung, there was only one way to gain a few hundredths of a second advantage: forcing him to choose between squeezing the trigger and reflexively defending himself. Dac Long lowered his voice, evenly, deliberately lengthening each word to focus all of Mai Dinh Hung's attention on him. "You know better than anyone, once you shoot and kill a child in front of a living witness, you will never step out of prison again. Tang Bach Nguyen will not save you. He has never saved anyone but himself, including me, the person he once called his brother."

That sentence struck a dull doubt that someone like Mai Dinh Hung who had served loyally for many years must have buried deep in his heart, causing his eyes to waver slightly for a quarter of a second - not fear, but a moment of calculating the pros and cons. Right at that fragile moment, Dac Long rushed closer, one hand forcefully pushed the gun barrel out of the way just as the gunshot rang out. The bullet narrowly grazed his shoulder, tearing off a piece of his shirt. Blood soaked the fabric, but luckily it did not hit an important part of his body. Unlike the three previous accomplices, Mai Dinh Hung did not collapse after the first attack - he turned around and threw an elbow aimed straight at the bullet wound on Dac Long's shoulder, a deliberate attack of someone trained to precisely exploit the opponent's weakness. The sharp pain piercing through his shoulder made Dac Long stagger half a step, but the reflexes that had been dormant for nearly twenty years in his body promptly arose at the right time - he turned to follow the momentum of the elbow instead of fighting it, using that same momentum to throw a knee straight into Mai Dinh Hung's stomach, putting all his body weight into the decisive blow. Mai Dinh Hung doubled over, his breathing was rapid and interrupted, but he still had time to swing a dagger hastily pulled from his waist, the blade grazed Dac Long's forearm, leaving a long trail of blood before he could lock his wrist tightly, squeezing hard until the knife fell on the cold cement floor with a dry clatter, followed by a final decisive punch to the temple, causing Mai Dinh Hung to collapse, completely unconscious.

"Dad!" Anh Thu, even though he was blindfolded, recognized the familiar voice and sound, burst into tears, calling out "Dad" directly for the first time after eight long years of concealment, as if in that moment of life and death, all layers and secrets became meaningless before the most sacred love of family.

Dac Long rushed forward, tremblingly removed the blindfold and rope for his daughter, hugged her tightly, his whole body trembling with extreme emotion. "I'm here, daughter, I'm here, it's okay, you're safe."

Anh Thu sobbed in her father's arms, her whole body trembling with fear pent up during the hours of being detained, but also filled with happiness when she heard the call "daddy" finally uttered from her own mouth, something that deep down, she had always longed to say for the past eight years but never dared to ask whether it was true or not.

Still holding his daughter tightly with one hand, Dac Long used his other hand to quickly search the inside pocket of Mai Dinh Hung, who was lying unconscious at his feet. He found a phone with the screen still on, stopping at a voice message sent less than three hours ago. With just one press of play, a terrifyingly familiar voice rang out softly from the small speaker in the middle of the dark warehouse: "...just keep her there until Long hands over all the evidence, don't reveal any trace related to Tang Phat, I'm responsible for everything." Tang Bach Nguyen's voice was clear, unmistakable, undeniable. Dac Long clenched the phone in his trembling hand — not because of the bullet wound or the stinging knife on his forearm, but because of the feeling that eight years of patient waiting had finally given him a piece of the puzzle that he had never dared to hope to have so quickly. He put the phone in the inside pocket of his jacket, carefully as if he were keeping a treasure.

At that moment, sirens rang out fiercely from outside — perhaps one of the downed guards had time to activate the alarm before losing consciousness completely. Ho Trong Nhan and two staff members immediately rushed in to assist, paused for half a second when they realized Mai Dinh Hung's unconscious face lying in the doorway, let out a soft curse full of surprise, then quickly took both father and son out of the dangerous area before any of Tang Bach Nguyen's reinforcements could arrive at the scene.

On the car ride back, Anh Thu sat with her head on her father's shoulder, still trembling but much calmer, holding his hand tightly as if afraid that if she let go, everything would disappear again. "Dad," she called, her voice still choked up, "I know everything, don't you? I know you're more than just an ordinary school janitor."

Dac Long looked at his daughter, his eyes filled with both love and pain because he had to let her go through such a terrible event just because of his own past. "I'm sorry, Thu," he said, his voice choked. "I'll tell you everything, all the truth, as soon as we get home safely. You deserve to know the whole truth, after all you've endured."

Anh Thu nodded, leaning his head tighter on his father's shoulder, and in that moment, even though the night was still dark, even though the battle ahead was still full of thorns, both father and son felt the only certainty: from now on, there would no longer be any secrets between them.

Sitting in the front seat, Ho Trong Nhan continuously glanced through the rearview mirror, observing the scene of father and son hugging each other. His heart was filled with an indescribable emotion, both relief that the rescue mission had been a complete success and sadness at the thought of what this whole family had to go through for eight long years. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, silently telling himself that from tonight, he would devote all his strength to ensuring that none of them had to live in fear another day.