"We should get in there too." Taylor raised a round table over his head. "Those with body armor, take the front. Those without, stay behind and shoot your crossbows. Be careful. Our goal is to keep them occupied, so don't get yourselves shot!"
"I know. The real show comes later." The American followed his example, picking up another table and falling in behind him. Back in the hallway, the enemy was still gathering people outside, and no one dared step through the doorway. The two men took the lead, pushing the tables along the wall as shields. Using them for cover, Naruko and Zhou Zhi leaned out and fired their crossbows at the enemy.
The hall erupted once more!
The answering gunfire rattled without pause, splintering the tabletops. With reinforcements, the blue-clad men's fire was denser than before, pinning the four of them down so they could barely raise their heads. The wooden tables couldn't stop every bullet. Many rounds pierced the wood, then shattered and ricocheted unpredictably, their whistling past the four's ears frightening enough on its own.
But these four weren't ordinary people.
The substantial reduction in pain and the trump card of not truly dying gave them the nerve to return fire under a barrage. Qiao James even let out a bizarre yelp now and then, getting under the other side's skin.
The police weren't having it so easy.
They'd fired several rounds at the tables, so surely the people behind them should have been riddled with bullets by now. But the tables remained upright, still blocking the doorway, leaving them unable to tell what was going on behind them. Meanwhile, the enemy's crossbow bolts were impossible to guard against and far more powerful than expected. In less than half a minute, two more of their men had been hit, and they were already struggling to breathe.
"Get in there! There are only five of them!" Ghost roared. "Do you still want that bonus?"
"But, sir, closing the distance puts us at a disadvantage!"
"A disadvantage?" Ghost cursed. "You've got twenty men! Who's at a disadvantage here? A vest only protects your torso, not your head or neck! Fine. Pass on my orders: fifty Glickleys for every head. The more you take, the more you get!"
As the saying went, great rewards brought forth brave men. At last, his men were willing to consider a frontal assault. A few of the bolder ones moved along the wall, making their way to the doorway. They had switched their weapons to straight swords. This was a blind spot; no matter what, the people in the hallway couldn't see them.
Ghost was about to urge his men forward when another subordinate brought him fresh news. "Sir, the third squad spotted a rat heading for the second floor!"
The third squad was the team sent to circle around behind. There were only four of them, and their main purpose was to keep the enemy occupied. Ghost had never expected the other side to split up at a time like this!
No, it was possible they'd fallen out among themselves and someone had cracked under the pressure and fled alone.
"Did they stop him?"
"Uh... no, but apparently they hit him twice."
"No need to surround him. Let them keep on his tail." Ghost thought it over before giving the order. He suddenly felt that everything had been going wrong tonight. Rats had never been this troublesome before—he couldn't crush them, and he couldn't keep them pinned down. "Tell the third squad about the extra reward, too."
"Yes, sir!"
Just then, the men by the wall signaled. The gunfire briefly paused, and the two leading them suddenly lunged toward the tables! As soon as the tabletops tilted, the men behind them poured in, intending to cut down the rats hiding behind the tables. But the tables crashed to the ground, and there was no one behind them at all!
Ghost realized with a start that the tabletops had been propped up by chairs!
The rats had clearly been ready for them. Only after the men rushed inside did they attack from both sides, hacking wildly at them. The two sides clashed at close quarters, screams ringing out without pause. In less than thirty seconds, the vanguard retreated, covered in blood. "Open fire! Quick, open fire!"
The dense gunfire erupted again, forcing the enemy back into the hallway.
Ghost's face turned livid. He'd clearly seen eight men go in, but only five had come back out.
The men willing to charge were all his trusted core. Every one he lost was one less. He could find as many gangsters and violent criminals as he needed, but it was different with subordinates he'd slowly recruited and trained.
It was the first time he'd suffered such a heavy loss at the hands of rats.
He just couldn't understand how the other side had reacted so quickly. They'd prepared for a charge in advance, almost as if they'd deliberately let his men in.
They couldn't possibly see what was happening outside!
"Boss, look up there!" someone suddenly called out.
Ghost followed his subordinate's pointing finger and looked up. In the short time they'd been distracted, a tall young man had climbed along the third-floor rafters to a spot above the hall. There was no doubt that this was the fugitive the third squad had mentioned.
That was the area used to control and replace the chandeliers, usually accessible only to theater maintenance workers and lighting technicians. The "path" across was made up of a few thick beams running both ways. It was not only impossible to move quickly up there, but there were almost no obstacles to hide behind.
That meant the rat up there had become a sitting duck.
"What's he trying to do? Put out the chandeliers?" Ghost frowned. "Idiot. One person can't operate the mechanism that easily."
Besides, even if all the chandeliers went out, they still had wall lamps and torches. If the other side hoped to cause chaos in the dark, they were dreaming.
"Uh... maybe he's trying to tip over a chandelier?"
"Then he's even more of an idiot." Ghost couldn't be bothered to keep watching. He knew the man was already dead. The chandelier chains could be used as a ship's anchor chains. Who did he think he was, trying to tip one over? He could dance on it, and the thing wouldn't so much as tremble!
Zhang Zhiyuan felt as if one of his hands no longer belonged to him. It looked like blood was pouring from it, but he couldn't feel a thing.
His pursuers were carefully making their way toward him, occasionally peeking out to fire a shot. He knew they were afraid of the crossbow in his hand, but he'd already used up all his bolts. It was only a matter of time before they noticed.
Or perhaps they had already noticed. The bolder ones had started climbing the rafters. Once they reached the same level as him, he'd have nowhere to hide.
"Host, you're listening, right?" Zhang Zhiyuan said, leaning against the chandelier's iron chain.
"That's right." Chaoyang appeared directly in front of him.
"Turn off the pain suppression."
"Are you sure?" The Host's voice remained even. "Severe pain could cause you to go into shock, or leave a mark on your memory and set off a chain of uncontrollable—"
"You know who I am!" Zhang Zhiyuan cut him off loudly. "Isn't that why Paradise invited me here? Don't worry. I've had professional training. I know what I'm doing!"
"Very well." Chaoyang moved a finger.
In an instant, a surge of pain shot up his arm and straight into Zhang Zhiyuan's brain, making his whole body shudder! But almost at the same time, he felt his entire body grow more responsive, and sensation returned to the hand that had been shot. Gritting his teeth, he tore off a strip of his clothes, bent down, and tied it around the chain.
The layers of cloth formed a small nest.
Then Zhang Zhiyuan took out a packet of thermite, tore it open, and poured the bright red powder inside into the nest.
"Give up, and we'll let you live!" someone shouted from the other side. He turned and saw that one of the men had climbed onto the rafters, his gun aimed straight at him.
Zhang Zhiyuan wasn't about to fall for that. He knew they were only trying to buy time for the others to climb up.
After all, more people firing meant a better chance of hitting him.
He ignored them and reached into his pocket for a match, then lit the long, thin magnesium strip attached to the packet.
The enemy had no idea what the thing sparkling with white sparks in his hand was. To them, everything Zhang Zhiyuan was doing seemed harmless.
Until he plunged the magnesium strip deep into the bundle of cloth—
A dazzling burst of sparks bloomed high above the hall, too bright to look at!
Before you continue