Chapter Twenty-Eight: Taking Action

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Taking Action

“Don’t worry, brother, everything is ready.” The one speaking was Ah Hai, standing in place, gesturing toward a rickshaw not far away. “I borrowed this from a friend—absolutely reliable. And here are the clothes you wanted, though I can’t say if they’ll fit.”

“Good. Let’s go—we need to move quickly.” Bai Zeshao nodded, immediately hiding the rope and settling into the rickshaw before urging him on. As they traveled, Bai Zeshao swiftly changed into the clothes Ah Hai had prepared in advance.

In the darkness, Ah Hai pulled the rickshaw at a brisk pace, remaining silent about Bai Zeshao’s mysterious intentions. He neither asked questions nor intended to; yet, being included in such a secretive operation meant a great deal to him.

The strenuous pace left Ah Hai a bit breathless, sweat soaking through his clothes. The night wind chilled him, making him shiver. Soon they reached the intersection at New First Street. “Brother, we’re here,” Ah Hai announced, waking Bai Zeshao from his thoughts.

“Ah Hai, from here, you must not get involved any further. You can go back now,” Bai Zeshao said.

“I understand,” Ah Hai replied, nodding under Bai Zeshao’s gaze. He turned the rickshaw around and disappeared into the night.

Bai Zeshao tightened his collar against the chill and walked quickly toward number 12, New First Street. Every detail tonight had been planned since morning, even providing himself with an alibi—everyone had seen him entering the room with Achen earlier under the eyes of many.

He reached number 12, entered with practiced ease, and left the lights off as he went straight into the secret room. He checked his weapons: two pistols, two grenades, and a military dagger.

These two pistols were the very ones he’d taken from the third unit leader of the Action Squad after killing him. Taking a deep breath, Bai Zeshao left the secret room and headed out.

Under the night’s cover, New First Street was silent. Dressed in black, Bai Zeshao knocked gently but deliberately on the door of number 11. The clear knocking resounded sharply in the stillness.

Inside, three members of Action Squad’s first unit, half-asleep, were instantly alert at the sound. The knock was not their code, and only they and their team leader, Ye Mao, knew this location. Ye Mao would not come this late, and if he did, he wouldn’t mistake his own code—he’d designed it himself. The realization made them draw their weapons.

Outside, the knocking continued, steady and unhurried.

Inside, the three exchanged glances. One pressed his gun to Mr. Li’s head, while the other two crept toward the door, backs against the wall. They signaled silently: three, two, one—then yanked the door open, weapons raised. But no one was there, not even a shadow. Instead of relaxing, their grips on their pistols tightened.

Holding their breath, they stepped out, left and right, adopting defensive stances. Still, nothing. One frowned and muttered, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but for safety, we should fall back and call for reinforcements. The Red Party inside can’t tolerate even the slightest mishap, or we’ll be in serious trouble,” the other replied quietly.

“Agreed.” With that, they holstered their guns and turned back toward the room. At that moment, Bai Zeshao—who had been clinging like a bat to the wall above number 11—made his move. He dropped from the darkness like a released beast, knees bent, diving at one of them.

A crisp crack of breaking bone sounded as a body was hurled through the dark, followed by a guttural scream and moans of agony. Bai Zeshao landed lightly, not sparing a glance for the man now choking on his own blood—his ragged breathing made it clear he wouldn’t last long.

Without hesitation, Bai Zeshao drew his dagger and lunged at the other man. At such close quarters, a blade was deadlier, quicker, and more convenient than a gun.

The dagger tore through the man’s collar, nearly slashing his throat, but the target’s reflexes were sharp. He recovered from the shock of his comrade’s attack in time, narrowly dodging the lethal assault.

Bai Zeshao couldn’t help but inwardly admire him—an experienced Action Squad veteran indeed. But he didn’t let up, his dagger slicing the air in rapid succession.

The two grappled fiercely, the blade leaving shallow cuts that drew blood but did little to slow the man. On the contrary, the pain only fueled his ferocity and killing intent.

Neither held back; every strike was meant to kill. In just a few heartbeats, they exchanged more than thirty blows. Because of his weapon, Bai Zeshao held a slight advantage, but only just.

As the wounds on the squad member multiplied and deepened, his resolve to continue the fight waned. He tried several times to draw his gun, only to be thwarted each time. Finally, as his pistol was knocked to the ground, he seized a moment’s respite to dash for the door.

The sudden shift caught Bai Zeshao off guard for an instant. But as the man was about to cross the threshold, Bai Zeshao hurled his dagger with all his might.

The blade cut through the air, sliced through the man’s clothing, and buried itself deep in his back. His momentum halted abruptly—his feet still outside, but his body crashed heavily inside, raising a cloud of dust.

Inside the room, the man with the mole at the corner of his mouth kept his gun pressed to Mr. Li’s head. Ever since the other two had left, he’d kept his eyes glued to the door. Now, the sounds of agony outside were followed by the sight of his comrade’s body crumpling halfway through the doorway.

He had no time to consider their fates, his attention fixed on the entrance. Footsteps approached, growing steadily louder—whoever was outside was about to enter.