Free Web NovelChapter 128: Chapter 127: Beheading
Tang Nianzhen hurried out the back door of the Anshun Inn with Li Huaisuang, ducking directly into an old apartment building across the street.
Once the knot of tension in her chest loosened slightly, she peered down through a dark window in the hallway and realized she’d been spooked for nothing.
Down below, two groups were already locked in a chaotic brawl for reasons unknown. Or rather, it wasn’t two groups—it was a gang of men besieging two individuals. These two were massive, imposing men, both over two meters tall. They had to be martial artists; Tang Nianzhen watched with her own eyes as bullets struck their bodies and simply bounced off. Facing the assault of dozens of men with blades, the pair were like tigers loosed in a flock of sheep.
"It has nothing to do with us."
Tang Nianzhen breathed a small sigh of relief and turned to comfort Li Huaisuang. "They’re not here for us."
Li Huaisuang asked, "Sister Nianzhen, should we go back then?"
Tang Nianzhen hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "Forget it. After a commotion like this, Zhabei won’t be safe for a while. We should find somewhere else to lie low."
With that, Tang Nianzhen took Li Huaisuang’s hand. As they continued on, she mulled over where they should go next.
To avoid running into the gray-clothed swordsmen who were sweeping the buildings, she was extra cautious, deliberately taking them up one side of the apartment building to the top floor before descending on the other.
As she led Li Huaisuang through the dim, damp corridors of the old building, a strange sense of unease began to grow in Tang Nianzhen’s heart for no apparent reason.
The stairwell was frighteningly silent; the only sound was the clear echo of their own footsteps as they descended the stairs.
The noise and clamor from the street seemed to suddenly recede and vanish. In the gloom, Tang Nianzhen had the strange feeling that they had accidentally stepped into another dimension.
"DRIP—"
The sound of dripping water reached her ears.
Tang Nianzhen instinctively glanced up. Leaks were common in old, dilapidated apartment buildings like this, but she quickly realized the sound was coming from below.
Tang Nianzhen led Li Huaisuang a few more steps down, slowly drawing her pistol and gripping it tightly.
"DRIP—"
"DRIP—"
The dripping grew more frequent. Mixed in with it, she thought she could hear the faint sound of someone talking. The sound seemed to be coming from the stairwell on the floor just below them.
The sense of unease in her heart tightened like a creeping vine, but at the same time, an almost instinctual curiosity compelled her to get closer and take a look.
One step, two steps...
Tang Nianzhen aimed her pistol at the mouth of the stairwell, ready for anything. She did her best to quiet her breathing and her footsteps.
Finally.
As she rounded another landing in the stairwell, the thick, nauseating stench of blood suddenly hit her. In her palm, Li Huaisuang’s hand clenched tight.
In the next moment, Tang Nianzhen froze, her body rigid. She was met with a sight she would never forget for the rest of her life—
From the very first step below her, a viscous, dark red river of blood snaked its way down, pooling in the hollows of the concrete to form eerie, reflective surfaces.
Bodies. Bodies were strewn everywhere! They filled the entire stairwell, twisted into all manner of stiff, unnatural poses.
One man lay on his back on the steps, his vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. Another had pitched forward against the handrail, one arm dangling limply, his fingertips submerged in a slowly spreading pool of blood. Most, however, were simply piled in the corners of the stairwell—stacked, leaning, and curled in twisted poses, like a heap of tattered burlap sacks swept carelessly into a corner.
All along the walls of the stairwell between the second and third floors, great, fan-shaped splatters of crimson were interspersed with long, dragged streaks, as if someone had taken a thick brush dipped in red paint and viciously smeared it, stroke by stroke, across the concrete.
And in the middle of this "hell of flesh and blood," which reeked of a metallic tang so thick you could almost taste it, stood a young man in a light gray suit.
At his feet, a body that had not yet fully expired was still making weak, pained, guttural gasps.
The man casually glanced over at Tang Nianzhen. Against the backdrop of a scene that looked like something out of the Forest of Hell, his exquisitely handsome and pale face was jarring. It held a chilling, pathological, and cruel sort of beauty.
....
Fu Juemin quietly met the armed woman’s gaze. He watched as the color drained from her face, saw how she shielded the schoolgirl behind her as if facing a mortal enemy, and then observed as she slowly retreated, step by step, before vanishing around the bend in the stairs.
A moment later, the sounds of frantic gasping and retching followed.
Only then did Fu Juemin withdraw his gaze, letting it fall back to Yan the Ninth at his feet.
"Well? Have you remembered yet?"
Fu Juemin bent down and gently plucked a jade ring from Yan the Ninth’s finger. He slipped it onto his own hand, idly admiring it as he spoke in a pleasant, casual tone.
The only emotions left on Yan the Ninth’s face were indescribable horror and dread. To him, this elegant young master in a bespoke suit seemed far more terrifying than any man-eating ghoul freshly crawled from the depths of hell. After all, anyone who had just watched one man slaughter dozens of their elite enforcers bare-handed in a cramped stairwell in under three minutes probably wouldn’t be feeling much better.
’Beyond the terror, a burning, venomous resentment toward certain people welled up from the depths of Yan the Ninth’s heart.’
’He was going to die. But he’d make damn sure the ones who were still alive wouldn’t get off easy!’
A final glint of madness flashed in Yan the Ninth’s eyes. With his last ounce of strength, he forced a few garbled, broken words from his blood-choked throat.
Fu Juemin leaned in close, tilting his head to listen, and made out the address Yan the Ninth had given him.
A flicker in his eyes, he straightened up and patted Yan the Ninth’s caved-in chest. "Yan the Ninth," he said gently, as if negotiating a deal, "I’m afraid I’ll need to... borrow something else from you."
.......
"BOOM!"
Big Cat brandished a rusty door panel he’d ripped off from somewhere. With a simple heave of his arms—each as thick as a grown man’s thigh—he sent several of the gray-clothed swordsmen flying like scarecrows.
He then sidestepped with an agility that completely betrayed his massive frame. A string of bullets WHIZZED past, striking empty air. The few that managed to hit him were calmly shrugged off.
Compared to him, Kitty’s side of the fight was far more chaotic.
His bloodlust stirred, Kitty was like a crazed rhinoceros, barreling through the crowd and tossing men and debris aside as if they were children’s blocks. The ground around the two giants was littered with gray-clothed swordsmen, groaning in agony from broken bones and torn sinews.
For two men who had grown up in gang wars and were, on top of that, Tongxuan Martial Artists blessed with innate, monstrous strength, these gray-clothed swordsmen were little more than ants. Their physical conditioning was only a notch above the average person; a single one could be crushed with ease.
Of course, they couldn’t let the fight drag on. Even an elephant can be brought down by enough ants.
"WHOOSH—"
Just then, a sound distinct from the whistle of a bullet sliced through the air beside him.
With a backhand motion, Big Cat snatched the object out of the air. When he opened his palm and saw what it was, his expression flickered.
He instinctively looked in the direction it had come from. In the distance, on the balcony of a tenement building, he thought he saw a familiar silhouette pass by.
Big Cat understood instantly. He crossed the distance in a few great strides and grabbed Kitty’s shoulder.
"Let’s go."
The two of them immediately broke into a run, heading for the exit of the enclave. No one dared stand in their way. In fact, judging by the looks on the faces of many of the gray-clothed swordsmen, they seemed relieved, as if they were finally seeing off a pair of plague gods.
After the two had gone, the remaining men began to clean up the battlefield, the scattered gray-clothed figures gradually gathering together.
"I don’t see Master Jiu, but I did find the headless body of that kid we were after..."
"Of course! Master Jiu must’ve taken the kid’s head to claim the reward!
Let’s find a place for a celebratory drink and wait for Master Jiu to get back."
"Yeah!"
