Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

Cang Lifeng's heart sank to the bottom. The police were hampered; a direct assault was too risky. Meanwhile, the assailant's emotions were becoming increasingly unstable under police pressure, and the longer it dragged on, the more dangerous the hostages became. He noticed that after driving away the hostages, the knife-wielding assailant was facing away from him, only a few meters away, his attention completely drawn to the police outside the door.

Under the subtle guidance of the Hidden Dragon Technique, Cang Lifeng's breathing became exceptionally long and delicate. Everything around him—the hunter's unconscious tapping on the trigger guard, the pistol-wielding thug's swallowing sound, the knife-wielding thug's trembling knife tip due to tension, and even the pregnant woman's heavy breathing—was amplified and clearly transmitted to his senses.

The situation deteriorated beyond his expectations.

"Where's the car? Where's the car I wanted? If you don't give me a way out, then we'll all die together! Third brother, drag that woman over here and kill one of them to show them!" The shotgun-wielding thug looked at his wristwatch, his face contorted with rage, the last shred of reason in his eyes replaced by madness.

"Alright, boss." The thug with the knife and gun revealed a cruel excitement as he lightly patted the pregnant woman's pale cheek with the cold blade. "Don't be afraid, it'll be quick." After saying that, he bent down to grab the pregnant woman's hair!

He couldn't wait any longer; any hesitation would be a betrayal of life. The battlefield instincts honed over four years of martial arts school roared at this moment—this wasn't about being a hero, but the only option in this desperate situation: to fight his way out for himself and for all the innocent people in the room. But… the enemy had three guns, while he only had his fists and a nine-section whip. A direct confrontation would mean certain death. But that pregnant woman—that was two lives! In that instant, immense pressure overwhelmed him like a collapsing mountain—if he died, what would happen to Tianci's tuition? What about the family's debts? Who would collect the hard-earned money from his coworkers? He hadn't even seen Accountant Wang yet, and his brothers' hopes for the New Year were hanging in the balance. These heavy responsibilities surged uncontrollably into his heart, making it hard to breathe. He wasn't alone; he had a large family behind him, dozens of brothers pinning their eyes on him. He couldn't die!

But when his gaze fell upon the pregnant woman's deathly pale face, the glaring crimson blood beneath her, and the thug's inhuman grin, the teachings of "be strong-willed and righteous," the sacrifice represented by his uncle's empty trousers, and the most basic courage of a martial artist and a man, all surged forth like molten lava, instantly overwhelming all weighing of pros and cons. If he were to back down now, to watch two lives vanish before his eyes, he would live the rest of his life tormented by his conscience. He would be unworthy of being a brother, unworthy of being human, and unworthy of teaching Tianci what the "right path" was. He couldn't care less.

His breathing instantly became long and deep, and all distracting thoughts in his eyes were replaced by an icy sharpness and determination.

"Father, Mother, Xiangyang, Xiaohua, Tianci, I'm sorry... Fellow workers, I'm sorry... My life is on the line today! Whether I live or die, I will have a clear conscience!"

His crouching figure, like a bowstring compressed to its limit, was suddenly released. There was no wind, no warning, only a blurry afterimage skimming the ground. His right hand, fingers pressed together like a knife, concentrated the penetrating power honed through rigorous training in Nancheng, and carried the ruthless precision of his master's "Finger-Striking Meridian-Severing Technique," aiming precisely at the Zhangmen acupoint, the most vulnerable point on the thug's ribs. Simultaneously, his left hand, like an iron clamp, gripped the thug's wrist, twisting it sharply in the opposite direction!

"Crack! Ugh—" The knife-wielding thug felt as if a red-hot iron had pierced his ribs. The excruciating pain and numbness instantly drained all his strength. The crisp sound of his wrist bones shattering rang out at the same time as his scream, and the machete clattered to the ground. But his other hand instinctively reached for the security guard pistol tucked into his waistband.

This change happened too quickly and too abruptly.

"Third Brother!" The shotgun thug turned around in shock and anger, the thick muzzle of his gun roaring destructively as it suddenly turned towards Cang Lifeng.

Cang Lifeng didn't even look behind him. The faint sense of danger brought by the Hidden Dragon Technique allowed him to feel the concentrated, violent killing intent almost the instant the gun barrel turned. In the instant he stabbed the target, using the momentum from his forward charge, he leaned back at an extreme angle, defying common sense, and simultaneously used his legs to perform a swift, low-sliding slide, narrowly cutting into the blind spot of the shotgun-wielding assailant.

"boom--"

The shotgun roared. Countless scorching steel balls whistled past the hem of his fluttering clothes, bruising the terrazzo floor and sending fragments of gravel and lead pellets flying from the wall behind him. Several nearby hostages were hit by the shrapnel and screamed in pain. Cang Lifeng could even feel the sting of a few flying pebbles hitting his calves and the scorching heat from the shotgun firing.

Before the slide tackle stopped, his legs crossed like steel whips, viciously twisting towards the lower body of the gunman who was about to raise his gun and aim it at him.

"Bang!" Caught off guard, the gunman was swept in the lower body, lost his balance, and fell heavily to the ground, his Type 54 pistol slipping from his hand and sliding far away.

In the blink of an eye, two of the three men were gone, but the thug who had been stabbed down had already used his uninjured left hand to tremble as he pulled the security guard's pistol from his lower back.

"Fuck your mother! I'll shoot you!" The shotgun thug went completely berserk, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Cang Lifeng, who had just jumped up and was still breathing heavily. His finger was on the trigger again. This time, the distance was closer, and the angle was more difficult.

With his old strength exhausted and new strength yet to be generated, Cang Lifeng's pupils constricted as he faced the deadly gun barrel, and his body instinctively rolled to the side and backward to avoid it.

Right now—

"Bang! Bang! Crash—"

The bank's main entrance and side windows' bulletproof glass shattered simultaneously. Several figures dressed in black combat uniforms and wearing helmets, in standard tactical formation, surged in through the breach like lightning. Clearly, the police outside, observing or hearing unusual activity inside, determined that the perpetrators had begun harming the hostages and were forced to launch a full-scale assault.

The shotgun-wielding robber's attention was instantly ripped apart by the thunderous intrusion. Instinctively, the muzzle of his gun turned towards the SWAT officer rushing in through the doorway. Almost at the same instant, the robber who had fallen to the ground, holding the security guard's pistol, grinned maliciously, raised his gun with a trembling left hand, and aimed at the back of the head of a SWAT officer who was crouching and rushing in through the broken side window, his upper body completely exposed.

Two gun barrels, two deadly threats. Cang Lifeng took it all in out of the corner of his eye. In a flash, there was no time to weigh the options, only instinct—the instinct to protect his comrades, the instinct to safeguard the innocent—overwhelmed any consideration for his own safety.

"Roar—" A suppressed roar erupted from his throat, channeling all the remaining power within him—his concern for his siblings, his guilt towards his parents, and his overwhelming rage at the beasts' indiscriminate slaughter—into his right arm. With a flick of his wrist at his waist, the nine-section whip he always carried slid into his palm as if it possessed a life of its own, transforming into a raging dragon that tore through the air. The whip lashed out taut in mid-air, whistling through the air with incredible speed and precision, striking the wrist of the gun-wielding thug who was about to pull the trigger.

"Crack! Snap!" Amidst the crisp sounds of bones breaking, the shotgun thug screamed as the shotgun flew from his hand to the side.

However, just as the whip struck the wrist of the shotgun, the fallen assailant swiftly turned the gun towards him and pulled the trigger. A flash of muzzle flash.

The instant Cang Lifeng lashed out with his nine-section whip, his body had already shifted to the side and rear to dodge. However, to ensure the accuracy and power of the strike, his dodge was delayed by a negligible split second. And that split second—

"Thud!" The bullet grazed the trajectory he could have easily avoided, but because of the slight hesitation in his body, it pierced deep into the space below his left shoulder blade.

An unimaginable, tearing pain exploded instantly, engulfing his entire body. His consciousness blurred for a moment amidst the agony, but the muscle memory honed through years of martial arts training overwhelmed the screams of his nerves. Almost unconsciously, he used the momentum to complete a side roll, kneeling on one knee, his left hand desperately clutching his bleeding wound, while his right arm, as if possessing a separate life, followed the trajectory honed through millions of repetitions, lashing out once more with the dangling nine-section whip, striking the gunman. The gunman's wrist was struck by the whip; he cried out in pain, and the pistol clattered to the ground.

He bent down, wincing in pain, to pick up the pistol that had fallen to the ground. The SWAT officer who had narrowly escaped being shot in the head roared and lunged forward, kicking the machete-wielding assailant to the ground. Then, two other SWAT officers quickly pounced on him, one kneeing him firmly in the back of the neck, while the other swiftly twisted his arms behind his back and handcuffed him with a "click."

Although the shotgun thug's right wrist was broken by Cang Lifeng's nine-section whip, his left hand remained fierce, attempting to use his severed wrist to clamp the fallen shotgun barrel in a final desperate attempt.

"Don't move!" a SWAT officer shouted, his gun already pressed against the back of the man's head. Another SWAT officer pounced from the flank, using a grappling technique to lock the man's left arm joint and forcefully pinning him to the ground. During the intense struggle, the inside pocket of the shotgun-wielding assailant's dusty jacket was torn by a SWAT officer's tactical glove. A dark gold, inconspicuous, round metal piece slid out of the tear and rolled silently onto the terrazzo floor, rolling a few meters away—just a short distance from the hand of the severely wounded and unconscious Cang Lifeng.

Almost simultaneously, the third group of SWAT officers also pinned down another gunman who was still struggling to pick up his gun, pressing his knee against his vest and handcuffing his hands behind his back.

"control!"

"Safety!"

Amidst urgent shouts, another team of medical personnel rushed to the fallen hostage and the pregnant woman whose bleeding was still spreading beneath her. They stopped the bleeding, examined her, and lifted her onto a stretcher…

Cang Lifeng lay half-prone on the ground, the excruciating pain in his left shoulder and the dizziness from blood loss causing his vision to blur and black out. But at the edge of this blurred vision, the dark gold metal piece that had rolled to his side came into sharp focus—round, with a square hole in the center, and seemingly fine engravings along the edges… A strange sense of familiarity surged through his mind like an electric current. He must have seen something similar somewhere…where? The old house in Xiqiao Village? The iron box that his grandfather never let anyone touch? No, there was no time to think further; his consciousness was being rapidly consumed by the excruciating pain and weakness…