Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

Bang bang bang.

Three gunshots rang out in the closed office, making the windows rattle.

The bullet grazed Ruan Bao's shoulder and struck the wall behind him, causing the plaster to crumble and debris to scatter. White dust billowed into the air like a thin mist.

Ruan Bao's body moved the instant the gun went off—he rolled to the side, tumbling off the chair, his knee hitting the floor, wincing in pain, but he didn't care.

He braced himself on the ground with both hands, tumbling and crawling towards the door. His body slammed against the door frame, and he groaned before shrinking into the corner behind the door.

My hand had already reached for the gun at my waist. I drew it, held it in my hand, and felt its cold, heavy weight.

He crouched behind the door, leaning against the wall, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently like an overloaded engine.

Sweat streamed down his face, stinging his eyes. He dared not wipe it away, his hand remained firmly on his gun, and his eyes were fixed on the doorway—the man in the black tactical jacket stood in the center of the room, holding a gun with the muzzle pointed in the direction where he had just fallen. Wisps of smoke rose from the gun, drifting in the pale light.

Ruan Bao gritted his teeth, poked his gun out from behind the door, and fired several shots in Chen Feng's direction without even aiming.

Bang bang bang bang—bullets hit the wall, the floor, and the desk.

Wood chips flew everywhere, documents were scattered all over the floor, and dust rose up.

Chen Feng rolled to the side and hid behind the desk.

The bullet hit the table, piercing the wooden board and exposing the rough, jagged surface underneath.

He crouched behind the desk, peeking out from the edge, and saw Ruan Bao running out from behind the door—hunched over, like a startled hare, rushing towards the stairwell.

Chen Feng raised his gun, aimed at Ruan Bao's back, and pulled the trigger.

Bang—the bullet grazed Ruan Bao's ear and hit the wall in front of him.

Ruan Bao suddenly ducked, his feet never stopping, and rushed to the stairwell. In a flash, he disappeared into the stairwell.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs, growing farther and farther away, more and more urgent, like the beating of drums.

Chen Feng stood up from behind his desk and chased after the stairs. Just as he reached the door, gunshots rang out from downstairs—bang bang bang bang bang—as dense as popping beans. Bullets came flying up from downstairs, hitting the walls of the stairwell, sending cement fragments flying and dust billowing up.

Ahei stood at the top of the stairs on the first floor, holding a submachine gun in both hands, with the muzzle pointed upwards.

He heard gunshots from upstairs and the sound of Ruan Bao's footsteps; he knew something was wrong.

He rushed out from behind the bunker and fired a burst of bullets towards the top of the stairs.

The bullets hit the stair steps, the handrails, and the walls, filling the entire stairwell with dust and reducing visibility to less than two meters.

His finger was gripping the trigger tightly, the submachine gun trembling violently in his hand, spent cartridges flying out one after another, clattering and echoing crisply on the floor in the narrow stairwell.

Ruan Bao rushed down from upstairs, bending over and almost lying on the stairs.

The bullets whizzed past his head, piercing the air like the wailing of ghosts.

He heard Ahei's gunshots explode below, and he also heard Chen Feng's footsteps chasing after him, getting closer and closer.

He dared not look back, dared not stop, and practically tumbled and crawled down the stairs. Taking three steps at a time, he jumped down the last section of the stairs.

My feet landed on the concrete, the impact sending numbness through my soles and making my knees buckle so badly I almost collapsed to my knees.

Ahei reached out to support him and pulled him toward the door.

Chen Feng chased after them to the top of the stairs and peered down.

Ahei and Ruanbao had already run to the lobby on the first floor and rushed towards the door.

He raised his gun and fired several shots at their backs.

Bang bang bang—bullets struck the floor of the hall, shattering it and sending fragments flying; they hit the pillars, causing cement to crumble; they struck the glass doors at the entrance, shattering the glass and leaving shards scattered everywhere.

Ahei turned around and fired a few shots, the bullets hitting the wall of the stairwell and forcing Chen Feng to shrink back.

When the gunfire subsided, Chen Feng rushed out from the stairwell, holding a submachine gun, and fired a burst at the door—but Ahei and Ruan Bao had already rushed out.

Downstairs, on the dock.

The explosions ripped through the night sky, three loud bangs, one after another, like thunder, making the entire dock tremble.

Flames rose simultaneously from three directions, turning half the sky orange-red, like a sunset, but brighter, more dazzling, and more eerie.

Three landmines, from three directions, blew up Ruan Bao's men, sending them flying.

The first one exploded in the passageway leading to the warehouse area.

Five of Nguyen Leopard's men heard the gunshots, rushed out of the warehouse, and ran towards the dock office with their guns at the ready.

The person running in front stepped on a landmine; it was a pressure-activated mine, triggered as soon as the foot touched it.

The landmine exploded beneath his feet, throwing the man off balance. He tumbled twice in the air before crashing to the ground face down, his back torn open by shrapnel, a bloody mess. His dark combat uniform was cut open as if by scissors, revealing charred flesh beneath.

Several people nearby were also hit by shards. Some clutched their legs and screamed in pain, some lay motionless on the ground, and some rolled around on the ground clutching their arms. The screams rose and fell, sounding particularly mournful in the night wind.

The second one was placed at the warehouse entrance.

The group of people had just run out of the warehouse, and before the door was even fully open, the landmine exploded.

The iron gate was blown away by the shockwave, tumbled several times in the air, and crashed to the ground a few meters away with a dull thud.

Those people were knocked down as if by an invisible hand, lying haphazardly at the warehouse entrance. Some were still breathing and groaning, while others were already motionless.

Blood seeped from beneath them, pooling into a small dark red puddle on the concrete floor.

The third one is at a three-way intersection.

Seven or eight people ran from different directions and were about to meet at the intersection.

The person at the very front stepped on a landmine. Boom—a flash of light erupted in the crowd, scattering debris everywhere.

Seven or eight people fell down in a row. Some died on the spot, some screamed in agony while clutching their severed limbs, and some crawled on the ground, but stopped moving after a few steps.

Ahei had just rushed out of the office building when the blast wave hit him head-on.

He instinctively lay down on the ground, covered his head with his hands, and curled up into a ball.

A wave of heat rolled over his back, burning it as if someone were branding his skin with a hot iron. His ears were ringing, and he couldn't hear anything, as if a thousand bees were buzzing in his head.

He lay on the ground for a few seconds before raising his head. The sight before him chilled him to the bone—corpses everywhere, limbs and fragments everywhere, bloodstains everywhere, and the air thick with the stench of gunpowder, blood, and burnt odors that made his throat tighten.

Ruan Bao stood beside him, his face deathly pale, as white as paper.

He stared at the scene of corpses strewn across the field, his hands and legs trembling. He could barely hold onto the gun, the muzzle drawing circles in the air like the tail of an old dog with Parkinson's.

He was muttering something, indistinctly, like chanting scriptures or cursing; no one could understand what he was saying.

He brought twenty people with him, making a total of twenty-two people including himself and Ahei.

The Yankees killed most of their men with just three landmines. Of the remaining few, some were scattered, some were wounded, and very few could still fight.

Ahei scrambled to his feet, grabbed Ruan Bao's arm, and said in a hoarse voice, as if his mouth was full of sand, "Brother Bao, let's go!"

Ruan Bao was pulled along by him, staggering as he ran towards the outside of the dock.

Gunshots rang out behind me—rat-a-tat-tat-tat—the sound of submachine guns, rhythmic, three shots at a time, not random spraying, but aimed shots.

Another person fell down, screamed, and then fell silent.

Chen Feng chased after him out of the office building.

Holding a submachine gun, he stood on the steps and pulled the trigger.

Rat-a-tat-tat—three bursts of fire, and the last man in the pack fell, two bullet holes in his back, blood gushing out, soaking his entire combat uniform. Rat-a-tat-tat—another man fell.

Ruan Bao dared not look back. He knew the Northerners were chasing him, and that if he stopped, he would be riddled with bullets. He could only run, run desperately, until his lungs felt like they were going to explode and his legs felt like they were filled with lead.

His feet crunched on the broken glass and spent cartridges, and he almost slipped several times, but Ahei held him back.