Chapter 177

"Captain Luo, a surveillance camera at a nearby national road exit shows about a dozen cars driving towards the target twenty minutes ago. We suspect it's the suspects."

"Captain Luo, Xiao Haiyang and Lang Qiao are nearby, I told them to stay put and await orders, but now I can't get in touch with them…"

Luo Wenzhou said, "How much farther?"

"We'll be there momentarily. The drone is in position—"

"Wenzhou," Lu Youliang suddenly said quietly over the phone, "I take responsibility for approving this business today, and it was my plan. If anything happens, I…"

"Captain Luo, there are bloodstains and signs of a suspected firefight near the mill. We can't see Lang Qiao and Xiao Haiyang."

Luo Wenzhou closed his eyes, interrupting Director Lu. "It wasn't you, Uncle Lu. I know. That scoundrel Fei Du arranged it. And I can guess that he made you hide it from me."

Remembering Fei Du's odd parting words of "sincerity works miracles," Director Lu felt so sick at heart he couldn't speak. After a long silence, he finally said, "…I asked him why, and he didn't tell the truth.—Why?"

The whistling wind and the police sirens performed in chorus, and the cars' lights wove through the pot-black sky, rising high above empty and desolate Binhai.

Luo Wenzhou's throat moved faintly. "Because of Zhu Feng."

"What?" Lu Youliang said.

"Because of Zhu Feng, Yang Xin, shin…Fu Jiahui. Those people aren't like Zhang Chunling's wanted criminals. They're unassuming. Many of them have done things that don't even amount to crimes. They can turn around and hide any time. Ordinarily, they don't seem any different from normal people—but they're like landmines left over after a war. If you can't trigger them safely, there will be disastrous consequences afterwards. So there needed to be a 'fuse.'"

With Zhang Chunjiu arrested and Zhang Chunling on the run, the Chunlai Conglomerate was already a spent force.

Over the last year, the whole Chunlai Conglomerate had been constantly weakened, and now it had disintegrated. Zhang Chunling's identity had been exposed, and he was a fugitive in flight. It would be very easy for The Reciter's people to sneak in next to him—Fan Siyuan being able to quietly snatch Fei Du away showed that—it wasn't at all difficult to make Zhang Chunling die a violent death. At that time, the frightening group of "volunteer judges" would have retired covered in glory, noiselessly going to ground; it would have been hard to find them again.

The triggering "fuse" had to give them a greater sense of crisis, had to fill up the vacancy of the hatred they had nowhere to put—at a time like this, what better reason for their merriment could there be than a "mastermind behind the scenes," an "oriole stalking behind?"

Fei Du had captured Zhang Donglai not only to arrest Zhang Chunling and expose The Reciter; he'd also planned to rapidly intensify the conflict between the two sides, fish them up with one net; everyone arrested would be an "illegally armed underworld element"; no one would be able to escape…

Fei Du, that lunatic!

The "lunatic" had planned backwards and forwards, but who knew whether he'd planned for his own miserable plight on the verge of death.

There was a metal ring closed around his neck, and the metal ring's other end was connected to the unconscious vegetable Fei Chengyu's neck. Violence was keeping Fei Du temporarily quiet, without further opportunity to "mislead the people with lies."

Three or four surrounding gun muzzles aimed at him at once. One gun was pressed against his back, so he could be turned into a sieve at the least stir.

Fei Du couldn't quite stand up straight and simply leaned back against the gun muzzle—the hand of the person holding the gun was very steady, allowing him to lean without moving, but the material was rather stiff, so it wasn't especially comfortable.

He couldn't speak, so he blinked his eyes at Zhang Chunling, who had "descended from the heavens." In his eyes, reddened from the sweat dripping into them, you could still read a hint of ridicule, as though he was thinking that it was very interesting that Zhang Chunling still had to hold his nose and protect him.

Zhang Chunling put him out of sight and out of mind, his gaze sweeping over the inhuman-looking "corpse" of Fei Chengyu, then falling directly onto Fan Siyuan.

For some reason, in the instant Fan Siyuan saw Zhang Chunling, his hands resting on the arms of the wheelchair suddenly began to tremble.

Zhang Chunling coldly said, "I heard you wanted to see me. Here I am."

"Zhang Chunling." Fan Siyuan held this name in his mouth, chewing it over three times. In his eyes, clouded from illness, floated a brightness like the last radiance of the setting sun, like two flames lighting up.

Looking on with the cool eye of a bystander, Fei Du suddenly had an impression that for a moment he'd seen a trace of humanity in this man.

It was strange to say—Zhang Chunling was in fact a drowning dog come to a dead end; one slip-up, and Fei Du had grabbed him by the wounded leg; he'd become the biggest loser in this game of villains doing each other dirty. However you looked at it, from The Reciter's point of view, it should have been Fei Du, the one who'd "taken all," who was the greater danger, the greater "poison." But while Fan Siyuan had called Fei Du "frightening," he hadn't displayed enough tribute to his "frightfulness." In front of him, he could still mystify with skill and ease.

But faced with Zhang Chunling, who seemed no longer worth mentioning, he lost control.

Gods and demons couldn't lose control; it was only humans who could.

Fan Siyuan's emaciated back drew into a bow. His neck stuck out. In a tone of voice difficult to read yet also nearly empty, he said, "Fifteen years ago, on National Road 327, an unemployed young person named Lu Guosheng ganged up with a man and a woman, together killing three passing drivers one after another. After becoming wanted by the police, he mysteriously disappeared. You offered him shelter."

Zhang Chunling's cheek twitched. "Thirteen years ago, a criminal psychologist gone mad killed six people one after another and was secretly pursued by the police. I offered him shelter, too. I fed him bones and gave him a nest, but now he wants to come back and bite me."

Fan Siyuan's believers one after another displayed an anger as though their faith had been blasphemed against, but their "faith" personified wasn't touched at all. Fan Siyuan seemed not to have heard what Zhang Chunling had said. "Lu Guosheng went into hiding at The Louvre. Once he carelessly left behind his fingerprint and attracted the notice of the police. The police increased the reward for information about his location and within a week received over twenty reports over the phone. Some of the reporters were absolutely certain, but however quickly the police got there, they came up empty—because you had a pair of "eyes" in the City Bureau to quickly pass on the information.

"There was a police officer who became suspicious. After this case was shelved, he began to privately investigate it again, following the traces all the way to The Louvre…but at a critical moment when collecting evidence, he chose the wrong partner, trusted the wrong person."

"That did happen," Zhang Chunling said calmly. "We were forced to abandon The Louvre. I remember that busybody police officer was named…"

Xiao Haiyang, eavesdropping from the end of the secret passage, clenched his fist tightly, suddenly going forward without a word.

Lang Qiao was surprised, then quickly went after him, desperately hauling back Xiao Haiyang as she got out a communication device, planning to call for backup. But when she looked at her phone, she found that she had no signal!

No wonder her phone had been so silent!

Lang Qiao's hair stood on end. A moment's carelessness, and Xiao Haiyang had already reached the opening of the secret passage. Then, seeing something, he suddenly backed up a step, crouching back. Lang Qiao thought this was strange and carefully looked in the direction of his gaze. She covered her mouth at once—no one had told her that the "hostage" was Fei Du!

How had Fei Du gotten mixed up in this?

Why was he here?

What was he doing?

What was going on right now?

In an instant, Lang Qiao and Xiao Haiyang exchanged a number of looks—but there was no outcome from this exchange, and no tacit understanding. They only found that they were both equally at a loss.

The next moment, a bullet shot at Fei Du, and the two young people's hearts tightened; Lang Qiao nearly charged straight out.—The bullet brushed past Fei Du; the amazing thing was that Zhang Chunling looked even more nervous than the two of them.

Zhang Chunling's shoulders tensed the moment Fan Siyuan shot. The people behind him all raised their guns and aimed them at Fan Siyuan in his wheelchair. The atmosphere was abruptly fraught.

"Don't say his name." Fan Siyuan's voice seemed to be squeezed out of his throat. "Don't talk about him!"

When he'd warned Fei Du not to mention "Gu Zhao," it had been cold and ceremonial. As though Gu Zhao were a memorial tablet hung up high in a shrine, a symbol, theoretically holy and inviolate, that he was guarding out of duty.

But now, faced with Zhang Chunling, the reflexive nerves numbed for many years seemed to suddenly come back to life. Fan Siyuan was like a person just woken from a long hibernation; the indestructible ice wrapped around him cracked off bit by bit. The grief and indignation suppressed for many years once more revived. The ashes of his faded, indistinct memories glowed again. There was a tremor in his voice.

Lang Qiao pushed Xiao Haiyang and mouthed the word "Luo" at him, showing him her phone, which had no signal, using her eyes to signal to him—I'll stay here and watch, you go find Captain Luo and the others.

Xiao Haiyang gravely shook his head.

Lang Qiao glared at him—This isn't the time to play the hero!

Xiao Haiyang gestured at her and shook his head again—Lang Qiao understood what he meant. Little Glasses was saying that he'd just been following her with his head down; the terrain here was too complicated, and he wouldn't be able to find his way out.

Lang Qiao: "…"

Xiao Haiyang pointed to Lang Qiao, pointed to himself, gave a thumbs up, and nodded. He meant, You hurry up, I'll stay here and watch, I know my limits, relax.

Lang Qiao couldn't relax, but right now she had no other choice. She'd seen that if she delayed for a second, something unimaginable might happen.

Lang Qiao clenched her teeth and shoved her protective amulet—her broken-screened phone—into Xiao Haiyang's hand, then turned and headed out of the secret passage.

Fan Siyuan's accusation was still ongoing: "…the informers…those pieces of trash betrayed him, falling over each other to give false testimony. His good friends, his good brothers, not one of them made a sound. No one spoke for him, no one redressed his injustice. A trifling five million and an easy to duplicate fingerprint mold, and they all decided he was guilty. His file was sealed, his name was obliterated…"

Zhang Chunling was entirely unmoved. "That was a problem with the police. You can't put it on me."

"You're right. That was the indifferent and useless police," Fan Siyuan said. "If I wanted to destroy you all thoroughly, I could only choose this road."

Even a psychopath like Zhang Chunling, hearing these words, was astonished. "You killed those people, thoroughly discredited yourself, for the sake of infiltrating and investigating me?"

"Those I killed deserved to die," Fan Siyuan said coldly.

For some reason, the woman beside Fan Siyuan subconsciously lowered her head and looked at Fei Du, not expecting to meet Fei Du's gaze. Fei Du's eyes were calm and understanding, like a mirror that could reflect her heart. The woman couldn't resist feeling irritation; she quickly frowned. But Fei Du curved the corners of his eyes, smiling silently at her.

"The Binhai wasteland is full of buried souls who died unjustly. From over thirty years ago down to today, the people you've killed are innumerable." Fan Siyuan suddenly raised his head. "Zhang Chunling, do you admit your guilt?"

Zhang Chunling seemed to have heard the world's best joke. "Ha! You were the one who schemed to have that unfortunate Dong Qian act as Zheng Kaifeng's killer, hitting Zhou Junmao. And it was you who planned for Wei Zhanhong's stupid little whelp to hire an assassin. For your framing plot, you sent someone to go to the hospital to kill that useless informer, and your man got tangled up with the police—the way I see, we're two of a kind. You ask for my guilt—what right do you have to ask?"

Fan Siyuan looked at him with a horrifying expression. "I ask because I can make you face retribution. Today you'll end up like the one you killed. Do you believe that?"

For a moment Xiao Haiyang's hair stood on end, and he was covered in gooseflesh—of course he knew how Gu Zhao had died, but this sort of underground space, with the overgrown secret passage and all kinds of weird storehouses and little rooms neighboring each other, was an exceptionally good place to bury kerosene and bombs!

Indeed, he then heard Fan Siyuan say, "Zhang Chunling, do you dare to look down? There's raging fire under your feet. You won't get away!"

The police force's unmanned drone had already arrived first on the scene and returned the disorderly picture. Next, the earliest police cars also came.

The police cars alarmed the crows on the barren mountain. The ominous black birds rose to the sky, crying hoarsely. The people Zhang Chunling had left outside as sentries exchanged looks and went towards the little thatched cottage leading underground to report.

Lang Qiao had already seen the light of the entrance, but she suddenly stopped—she'd heard rapid footsteps!

Lang Qiao took a deep breath, pricked up her ears, clung to the damp, ice-cold wall of the secret passage, and closed her eyes—two…three. There were three people coming. They had to be armed. She couldn't shoot, and she had to fight a quick battle, or else it would endanger Xiao Haiyang and Fei Du inside…

"Captain Luo, something's not right. It's too quiet here."

Luo Wenzhou had jumped out of the car before it had fully stopped and was already at the entrance of the old mill—he couldn't hear the sounds of either gunfire or human voices. Apart from the ground covered in blood and scattered corpses, letting people know that there had been a fierce firefight here, it was absolutely silent.

Luo Wenzhou, looking at the ground covered in blood, felt his heart give a lurch, as though he'd fallen from a high place without warning. He tasted blood at the tip of his tongue.

"Impossible." Luo Wenzhou firmly hauled back his own scattering soul. "Impossible. The blood hasn't dried yet. Even if they've run, they can't have run far.—Listen to me, Zhang Chunling and the others used this place to hide wanted criminals. That couldn't have been on the surface. Don't stop, keep searching, bring the dogs!"

Lang Qiao stuck close to the wall of the secret passage, hiding in the shadows at a bend. At the moment the person walking in front passed by her, Lang Qiao reached out her foot to trip him. He didn't react at once, cursed, and fell forward. The instant he fell, Lang Qiao knocked heavily on the back of his neck. The second person didn't know why his companion had suddenly fallen. When he bent slightly to investigate, someone suddenly charged out of the darkness, without warning raising a knee into his underbelly. The person had no time to cry out before he was caught around the neck and his vision went black. He fell to the ground. Lang Qiao grabbed the gun and a long stick from his belt.

But the third person had already seen the ambush in the darkness and wanted to open his mouth to call out. At the same time, he threw himself towards her. Lang Qiao, already accustomed to the dark, nimbly stuck out the long stick, hitting him in the throat, narrowly keeping back his cry. He grabbed her arm; Lang Qiao curled up inside her jacket and stamped heavily on his instep, prodding his chin from below with the stick, once more forcing him to shut his mouth. Then she pressed the muzzle of the gun to his chest.

Sweating, he raised his hands and backed up as she pushed. One walking forward and the other backing up, they came from the entrance of the secret passage.

In a low voice, Lang Qiao said, "Turn."

He didn't dare not to turn. Hands held high, he slowly turned around. Before he could get a firm footing, there was a chop across the back of his neck, and he collapsed soundlessly.

Lang Qiao found a length of rope on him and quickly tied him up. Then she peeled off her jacket and stuck the sleeve into the poor devil's mouth. Then she finally breathed a sigh of relief—she had outdone herself. It was lucky she hadn't made Xiao Haiyang run this errand.

Xiao Haiyang, entirely unaware of the soul-stirring events that had taken place behind him, was tense all over—Fei Du was too far from him; to get there from here, he'd have to deal with at least five or six people!

Before he could come up with an itinerary, he heard Fan Siyuan say, "Light it!"

Xiao Haiyang's mind buzzed. He got out his gun. But the fire he expected didn't come. The whole underground room was silent for a moment, and then Zhang Chunling laughed. His face was a little crooked; he looked unusually ill-intentioned when he laughed. "Did you think you could pull a trick here without me knowing? Fan Siyuan, this is my territory. I built this place brick by brick, tile by tile, with my blood and tears. You're much too full of yourself!"

Xiao Haiyang hadn't expected this reversal; his legs went weak, and he nearly fell flat.

But before he could finish sighing in relief, he saw Fan Siyuan raise his gun, pointing at Fei Du. While he seemed to have been pushed to an impasse, he unexpectedly smiled.

"Your territory? That's right. Killing and starting fires are your specialties. How could I outdo you?" His throat was scratchy, his voice like an owl's. "But your son's life is in his hands."

The person pressing the gun to Fei Du's back tore off the tape sealing his mouth.

Fan Siyuan didn't look around. "President Fei, it's your turn."