Jailbreak

'That film was originally called Moon-Scorched Village...' Gilan's eyes filled with confusion. 'But who exactly is this February Director, the "Director"?'

The incessant ringing outside made him somewhat irritable, so he had no choice but to set the question aside for now.

Phew.

Gilan blew the dust off the Black Film Reel, then wrapped it in iridescent colors and stored it in his dimensional space.

After giving it some thought, he reached beneath the battered projector and rummaged around. Before long, he found a Silver Cube.

Compared to the apple-sized one held by the epidemic prevention personnel back then, this one had shrunk considerably and was now only the size of an egg.

'This should be some kind of special energy source. I might as well take it with me—it could come in handy someday.'

With that thought, Gilan slipped it into another pocket.

He rose to his feet and, without lingering, gripped his Luger Pistol and pushed open the door.

Outside the screening room was a narrow corridor. Near the ceiling, a row of sealed glass windows let in the hazy daylight, keeping the area from becoming too dark.

Gilan hurried toward the end of the passage, intending to escape the police station as quickly as possible.

However, at that moment—

Bang!

The carved wooden door at the end of the corridor was smashed open, and two armed officers rushed in at the sound.

"Hm?" The two men were startled when they saw Gilan, then immediately raised their pistols. One of them was Scarface. He roared furiously, "You damned bastard! How are you not dead yet?!"

Bang! Bang!

His answer was two gunshots.

Gilan did not waste words with him and simply raised his gun and fired.

Scarface had not only humiliated him but had also shot and injured the left leg Gilan treasured so much. Gilan had wanted to kill him for a long time.

However, the firearm proficiency he possessed was limited to the Double-Barreled Shotgun. He was not very familiar with pistols and could barely use one. As a result, one shot missed, while the other only struck Scarface in the thigh.

"Argh!" Scarface cried out and collapsed, then endured the pain as he roared, "Shoot him! Kill him!"

As he spoke, he was the first to pull the trigger at Gilan.

The other officer responded at once and opened fire as well.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

To their shock, the blond young man somehow produced a triangular metal shield and set it before himself, hiding behind it.

Every bullet was blocked by the shield with sharp clangs.

He was completely unharmed.

Then, a black Luger Pistol of the same make poked out from behind the shield, making both their hearts leap into their throats.

There was no cover in this narrow passage. Standing where they were, the two men were nothing more than targets!

"Get out of the way—"

Scarface's face twisted at that instant, but before he could finish—

Bang!!

His expression froze. Eyes wide, he looked down.

A hole had been punched through the dark-blue uniform over his chest, blood continuously seeping out and soaking a large patch of fabric.

The agonizing pain twisted his face. His mouth hung open, making him look like a dying fish.

The other officer turned and ran at the sight, trying to escape through the open door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Expressionless, Gilan fired three shots in succession.

Although one missed again, the other two both hit, one of them striking the back of the man's head dead-on.

The officer pitched forward with the momentum. His domed police cap fell aside, and he was dead beyond doubt.

Iridescent colors glowed from Gilan's fingers as he stored away the triangular shield. Then, gun in hand, he walked to the wooden door.

The two officers lay sprawled on the ground, one faceup and one facedown, motionless.

Looking at Scarface's unwillingly wide-open eyes, he suddenly raised his hand and fired two more shots at him without warning.

Bang! Bang!—Click!

He did not stop until he had emptied the magazine.

"You wanted to fool me too? I hate it most when people lie to me!"

Gilan bared his teeth in a savage grin.

He was not venting his anger on a corpse. He had noticed that the man was playing dead.

Scarface's eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open as blood poured from it.

With the last of his strength, he rolled his eyes toward the blond young man, unable to understand how the other had seen through his act. Then his breath cut off abruptly. This time, he was truly dead.

Gilan coldly removed the empty magazine and tossed it aside. He replenished his ammunition from the two officers, then quickly ran out.

After passing through another corridor, he went past the interrogation room from before at the corner and continued onward until he reached the police station's main hall.

The place was filled with early twentieth-century Western-style decorations, but there was no one behind the desks.

Gilan glanced at the printed wall calendar beside the clock. It read:

Dawn Era 1926, June 20, Sunday.

At the very top was another bold line: "Salute the Great Leader Caesar," accompanied by an "X" emblem in white patterns against a black background.

He quickly withdrew his gaze, slammed through the police station's front doors, and emerged onto the street outside.

It was an old-fashioned street, with a stone-paved road over ten meters wide for horse-drawn carriages to travel along.

Tall Chinese tallow trees lined both sides. Their red and yellow leaves rustled in the breeze, which was how Red Tree Street got its name.

Three- and four-story residential buildings stood in orderly rows to either side of the police station, while shops lined the opposite side. But it was still early, and none had opened for business.

The sky was just beginning to brighten. It was around six in the morning.

The surroundings were silent. Not a soul could be seen on the entire street; only a few security officers patrolled far in the distance with flashlights.

Gilan scanned the area, then quickly slipped into an alley on one side.

With his back pressed against the wall, he took a deep breath. The fresh air of freedom inexplicably calmed his heart.

He began to consider what he should do next.

This was clearly different from the modern society he knew. It resembled some Western country from the previous century, yet it was not quite the same.

Limited by the original owner's narrow knowledge, Gilan only knew that he was in a city called Black City, located in the Great Forest Region of Kawa Province, Bremen Empire.

Beyond several local slum districts and the outskirts of the wealthy quarter, however, he knew very little about the outside world.

The original owner, "Gilan Iros," had grown up in a poor single-parent household. His mother had raised him alone until he was fifteen or sixteen, then suddenly died of a severe illness one day, leaving behind no inheritance.

He had not received much schooling, nor did he possess any useful trade. To make a living, he had started mingling among the Oak Gang's lowest ranks at an early age, and most of the people he knew were gang members.

Although the Oak Gang was quite united, and its leader Lucas Parr even knew an important figure in the local Louis Family, Gilan did not think he had enough standing to make the leader protect him.

Besides, his crime was far too serious. The Oak Gang might not even be able to shield him.

'As a death-row prisoner who escaped from jail and killed so many people, the police station definitely won't let me go easily.'

Gilan lowered his eyes.

After some brief thought, he turned and ran toward home based on his memories.

He planned to pack up his belongings, then find an opportunity to flee this place.

To survive, he could only run.

However, beneath a Chinese tallow tree across from the police station, a furtive figure poked his head out and watched Gilan's retreating back.

He was a scrawny boy in a smock and soft cap, his cheeks covered in freckles.

"Gilan actually escaped?!" Joy flashed across his face, only to be replaced by worry. "But the police station has been cracking down hard on bootleg liquor lately. Iros will probably still be hunted by those damned 'Bobby.' I have to tell Boss Lucas immediately. Only he can save Iros."

Muttering to himself, the boy held down his cap and ran off with his head lowered.

Happy New Year and happy New Year's Day! I wish every reader good health, success in their studies, smooth careers, happy love lives, and harmonious families!

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