Traps and "Caged Beasts"

"Waaah—waaah—waaaah!"

The reporter struggled desperately against the wooden post!

"Quit yelling. I'll get you down in a second." Qiao James stepped forward, pulled out a dagger, and cut the ropes. Then he yanked the gag from the reporter's mouth. "Keep making a racket, and don't blame me when I knock your teeth out."

"Give it up. He can't understand you anyway. Go get Mr. Zhang," Taylor said.

"Cough, cough, cough..." The reporter first hacked violently, then cried out in terror, "These people—these people are just executioners! The real culprit is... cough... North City Police Station!"

"What's he saying?"

"Who knows? Mr. Zhang, sorry to trouble you, could you come over?"

Just then, the theater's audience hall suddenly lit up! The enormous oil lamps overhead ignited one by one, followed by the wall lamps on either side. In less than a minute, the entire theater hall was brightly illuminated!

Everyone was dumbfounded by the sudden change.

Even Chaoyang was caught off guard.

Fortunately, his true body hadn't joined the operation, so the light and shadows alone wouldn't reveal his presence.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..."

Someone clicked their tongue above them.

Chaoyang looked up and saw that a dozen or so people had suddenly appeared on the second-floor viewing gallery. Unlike the attackers onstage, they wore indigo uniforms and white trousers, with tall hats on their heads and rifles in their hands.

One of them stood out in particular. A tie was knotted at his collar, and an insignia with tassels hung from his shoulder. He was probably their leader. Bracing both hands on the railing, he leaned over and said, "Mr. Dane, you shouldn't have said that. If the rats knew nothing, they might still have had a chance to live. But now, even if they escape the theater, they won't survive."

"Damn it, what's going on!?" Qiao James looked around. "Host, was this part of your arrangement too?"

"Don't shout! Weren't you trying to contact the mastermind?" Zhang Zhiyuan cut in coldly. "Now they've come to us."

"You're insane, Ghost! You're a police captain, and yet you're helping your superior do something like this!" Cote Dane gasped for breath as he spoke harshly. "I won't let this be covered up. Once the story gets out, you'll all hang! And so will those company executives!"

"You're always chasing some fantasy. It was the same with your last report, even though the police station had already warned you." The man called Ghost shook his head. "Think about it. Do you really believe the two Jedi brothers had the guts to publish your so-called truth? How many people in this city would believe your word alone?"

The reporter was momentarily at a loss for words.

"Of course, there's no chance you'll leave here alive. Just settle in and be a good sacrifice. And I should thank you for leading so many rats right to me." The police captain adjusted the brim of his hat. "As for the rest of you... There are six hours until dawn. I hope you last a little longer."

His subordinates raised their guns.

"I see. So that's how it is..." Zhang Zhiyuan said slowly, his expression dark.

Why had a serial murder case dragged on for months without being solved? Why had no one noticed the traces of such a large criminal operation? Because the police were stealing from under their own noses! The people at the station were plotting the crimes themselves, hiring killers, and deliberately leaving clues for those investigating on their own. Every person drawn into the investigation had become prey in their trap!

"Brother Zhang, don't just stand there figuring it out. They've got guns!" Zhou Zhi's scalp tingled. "What do we do?"

"Rush into their blind spots." Zhang Zhiyuan looked at the people on the second floor, already forming a plan. "Those guns don't look like they can fire continuously. We have a good chance of making it back to the corridors on either side of the hall."

"I-I trust you. Left or right?"

"Left, back the way we came!" Zhang Zhiyuan suddenly shouted, "Run!"

Before the words had left his mouth, all six of them were moving, and every one of them headed east!

At the same time, gunshots rang out in quick succession. They weren't loud, though, sounding more like sharp, brief whistles! Bullets struck the seats with a series of crackling pops. Shredded stuffing burst into the air like snowflakes, swirling around them.

"Ugh—"

Just as they were about to rush through the doorway, Anthony grunted and fell to the ground. Taylor and Asahara Naruko immediately turned back, braving the gunfire to drag him into the corridor.

"I... I've been shot." The Russian clutched his neck and groaned.

Blood streamed through the gaps between his fingers. If they didn't stop the bleeding soon, he would go into shock from blood loss before long.

"Anyone have a bandage?" Naruko looked around. "I know how to dress a wound!"

"It won't help. He's hit a major blood vessel, probably the external jugular." Taylor shook his head. "With an injury like that, you could strangle him with a bandage and it still wouldn't help."

Anthony wasn't the only one who'd been shot.

Qiao, Taylor, and Asahara Naruko had each been hit once or twice too, but they'd been lucky: the bullets had struck their bodies without fully penetrating their stab-resistant vests.

"What the hell kind of weapons are those? They're firing much faster than last time!" Qiao James said angrily.

"They're guns powered by steam," Chaoyang said, "while the cavalry you encountered on the beach used gunpowder weapons."

He hadn't deliberately misled his fellow Earthlings. In fact, he'd been just as surprised when he saw the weapons the enemy was using. They all carried gas canisters on their backs, wrapped in leather covers that made them look roughly the size of travel packs. The extra power source meant they didn't have to reload gunpowder, allowing them to fire about once every two seconds.

"Steam rifles?" Taylor said in disbelief. "Aren't those supposed to be nothing more than a fantasy that exists on paper?"

"Well, putting it that way makes me feel better." The American spat. "Isn't Paradise itself a fantasy?"

"They'll be on top of us any second." Zhou Zhi leaned against the doorway and saw all the blue-uniformed men hurrying down the stairs to the first floor. "We need to get out through a window!"

"We can't escape." Zhang Zhiyuan shook his head. "If this was a trap from the start, then they must've already blocked the exits. Have you forgotten what the reporter said? These people are all police officers. Even out on the street, they can kill us in broad daylight."

"Exactly. Besides, staying alive doesn't mean anything to us. Points matter more." Naruko picked up the thread. "If we don't rescue the reporter, all our work in the second half will have been for nothing."

The others agreed.

"Suka Bule! I'm all for taking them on right here!" the Russian muttered. Then he raised an eyebrow and slowly moved his hand away. "What's going on? The wound doesn't seem to hurt as much."

"I lowered your pain level. Of course, that has nothing to do with the bleeding. You have about fifteen minutes left to live," Chaoyang said.

"I knew it. Thanks, Host!" Without the pain, Anthony immediately perked up.

"Hey, can you lower ours too?" Zhou Zhi couldn't help asking.

"The less pain you feel, the less control you have over your body. In simple terms, you'll be less agile." Chaoyang refused. "Trust me, being numb isn't always better in a fight."

"Maybe it's just my imagination..." The Englishman stared at Chaoyang, looking thoughtful. "Host, you seem to care more and more about our mission."

"This is the battle where the truth comes to light. We should make the most of it, right?" Chaoyang replied without a change in expression. "Paradise is always on the players' side and hopes to provide you all with the greatest enjoyment. Rest assured: the hefty admission fees you've paid won't go unrewarded. We'll make sure you get your money's worth. New alert: the enemy is here."