On the eve of the fall of Liaodong, he led his troops in a remonstrance against the young marshal.

Zhang Xueming stood in front of Zhang Xueliang, who became impatient and was about to reprimand him.

"roll......"

Before he could finish speaking, a pistol was pressed against the center of Zhang Xueliang's forehead.

The moment the cold steel touched his skin, Zhang Xueliang froze.

The skin between his brows tightened suddenly, the hairs on his forehead stood on end, and a chill instantly exploded within him.

His pupils contracted and then dilated abruptly within a fraction of a second, his mouth remained half-open as if he were about to curse, but not a single word could be squeezed out of his throat.

He could feel the gun's sights pressing slightly against the bone between his eyebrows, as if someone were holding a nail to his forehead, ready to hammer it in at any moment.

It felt as if the air had been suddenly sucked away.

The concubine with the student-like hairstyle next to her was the first to react.

The moment she saw the gun, her face turned deathly pale.

"ah!!!"

She opened her mouth and let out a scream, jumping up from the chair and staggering backward.

Her high heels slammed down on the hem of her cheongsam, tearing it open with a ripping sound. She fell backward to the ground, her white legs kicking wildly in the air. A hairpin slipped out of her hair and fell to the ground with a clatter.

The two concubines behind them collapsed onto their chairs. One covered her eyes with a handkerchief, unable to look, while the other trembled like a leaf. The hem of her cheongsam was soaked, and a faint smell of urine mingled with the scent of cologne and opium.

The surrounding dignitaries and nobles were also in an uproar.

Song Zheyuan jumped up from his chair, knocking over the teacup on the table. The scalding tea poured onto his legs, making him scream in pain.

Tan Hai, Zhang Xueliang's adjutant, instinctively reached for his gun.

But halfway through drawing the gun, he remembered that the person opposite him was the young marshal's younger brother, and that the gun was pointed at the young marshal's head. His right hand suddenly froze in mid-air.

The actors on stage were completely thrown into chaos.

Mei Lanfang's water sleeves froze in mid-air halfway through their swing, while Zhang Sheng's folding fan fell to the ground with a thud.

The old erhu player was so startled that the bow slipped from his hand, and the erhu fell to the ground, cracking the soundbox and making a piercing thud.

The guards at the four corners of the hall finally came to their senses.

They watched the play for a full half hour, their minds filled with Mei Lanfang's flowing sleeves and Zhang Sheng's singing, until a woman's scream pierced their eardrums, pulling their souls back from the stage.

The guard standing in the southeast corner was the first to react. He frantically reached for his gun, but the case latch was stuck. He bent down and tugged at it twice without success. It was only on the third try that he managed to pull out the pistol.

"Second Master! Put the gun down!"

"Protect the young marshal!"

"Help! Help!"

Several guards, shouting and carrying guns, rushed toward the center of the hall, their steps chaotic and disorderly, knocking over tables and chairs along the way.

A series of rapid footsteps sounded outside the door; the guards outside had heard the commotion and were rushing in.

The sounds of the iron gate being pushed open, military boots clattering on the stone slabs, and gun bolts being cocked all rushed in from the doorway.

The first to rush in were several guards carrying firearms. As soon as they entered, they saw Zhang Xueming's gun pointed at Zhang Xueliang's forehead and were immediately stunned.

"Don't move!"

Zhang Xueming finally spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was full of authority. A chill, like a bucket of ice water, poured down from above the hall, silencing all the other noises.

The hall fell silent instantly.

Zhang Xueliang's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

A fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, and the sweat trickled down the sides of his nose.

"Xue Ming"

He kept his voice low and tried to keep his tone steady, "Do you know what you're doing?"

Zhang Xueming's gun barrel remained completely still.

"I know."

"Brother, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to listen to opera tonight, I want to fight!"

After saying that, he suddenly picked up the cup next to Zhang Xueliang and smashed it on the ground.

"Clatter!"

"Splash!"

The door to the side hall was kicked open from the inside.

The door slammed against the wall with a dull thud, causing the plaster to flake off in a shower.

Wolf Warrior was the first to rush out.

Behind him, three tactical teams emerged in a fan shape from the side hall door, their camouflage uniforms standing out starkly against the backdrop of the theater's ornate architecture.

Then came the second batch. And the third batch.

Within five seconds, a dozen soldiers occupied all the key tactical points in the main hall: the main entrance, the stairwell, the side door leading to the backstage, and the four corners.

Once everyone was in position, they immediately knelt down and took up their guns, sweeping the muzzles across their assigned sectors. The beams of their tactical flashlights swept across the hall, illuminating the pale faces of the dignitaries.

The second group of soldiers rushed directly up to the second-floor corridor, their military boots making a dense clattering sound as they stepped on the wooden stairs.

They spread out along the U-shaped corridor, looking down from above, their guns pointed at every corner of the first-floor lobby.

The third group of soldiers poured out of the main gate, and a short shout immediately came from outside.

"Don't move!"

"Put the gun down!"

"Hands behind your head!"

In just a few seconds, Zhang Xueming's guards disarmed Zhang Xueliang's guards.

A platoon leader tried to resist but was hit on the shoulder blade with the butt of a rifle. He groaned and fell to one knee. The firearm flew out of his hand and slid a long way on the stone ground.

The entire control process took less than a minute.

Before the dignitaries in the hall could even scream, they saw a group of people dressed in strange, colorful clothes surge in from all directions, moving as fast as ghosts and with movements as synchronized as a precise machine.

Someone blinked only once, and when they opened their eyes again, the hall was filled with gun barrels.

Zhang Xueliang still had a red mark on his forehead from the muzzle of a gun.

He watched helplessly as his younger brother smashed a cup, and a group of strangely dressed people rushed out and disarmed his guards.

His mind raced. Who were these people? Where did Zhang Xueming transfer them from?

Why didn't any of the security personnel I deployed around the theater issue a warning in advance?

His gaze was fixed on the gun in Zhan Lang's hand.

It was a rifle he had never seen before; the entire structure of the gun was completely unlike any standard weapon he knew.

The magazine was in the wrong position, the barrel was the wrong shape, and even the flash suppressor at the muzzle was a shape he had never seen before.

But the elite quality that Wolf Warrior exuded from the core still made his hair stand on end.

Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, Zhang Xueliang finally couldn't sit still any longer.

"Zhang Xueming!"

He suddenly stood up from the armchair, his face flushed with anger, which rose from his neck to his forehead.

"Are you planning a coup?!"

His voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire hall. Even now, he still wanted to use the young marshal's authority to force Zhang Xueming to back down.

Zhang Xueming didn't move; the gun had already fallen from his hand, its muzzle pointing at the ground.

He tilted his head and looked at his furious older brother with an expression as calm as if he were looking at a monkey.

"mutiny?"

He shook his head. "I am not staging a coup."

"Then what the hell are you doing?!"

Zhang Xueliang shoved aside the chair blocking his way, the chair legs scraping against the brick floor with a piercing screech.

He took a step closer to Zhang Xueming, his finger almost touching Zhang's nose. "Pointing a gun at your brother's head, leading a bunch of bandits, disarming my guards—what is this if not a mutiny? Is this some kind of dinner party?"

"I'm trying to help you."

Zhang Xueming said, word by word:

"I'm here to help you, you spendthrift son. Don't squander the wealth that the old general has worked so hard to accumulate."

Zhang Xueliang was taken aback.

"help me?"

Zhang Xueliang repeated those two words, his tone absurd, "You held a gun to my head and then said you were helping me?"

"Zhang Xueming, are you out of your mind?"

Zhang Xueming did not answer this question.

He turned around, his gaze passing over Zhang Xueliang's shoulder and landing on Tan Hai.

Tan Hai was frozen in place, his right hand still hovering above the gun holster at his waist, maintaining the posture from when he had only half-drawn his gun.

His expression was extremely complex, showing anger, confusion, and resentment, but more than anything, an awkward dilemma.

As the young marshal's chief bodyguard, it was his duty to shoot and kill the assassin who had brandished a gun at the young marshal's head.

But the person who drew the gun was the young marshal's younger brother, the second master of the Zhang family. Should he draw the gun or not?

In that instant of hesitation, two figures in camouflage clothing silently closed in from both sides.

Before Tan Hai could react, a tactical gloved hand reached out from behind, gripped his right wrist with its five fingers, and forcefully twisted it outward.

Tan Hai felt as if an iron hoop had been put on his wrist, and his bones made a crisp cracking sound. His entire right arm was twisted behind his back, and a tearing pain shot through his shoulder joint.

He tried to struggle, but his other hand was also grabbed in the same way, and his wrists were tightened by a plastic restraint strap, which made his skin hurt.

Then he was kicked in the back of the knee, and he uncontrollably knelt on the ground, his military cap flying off and rolling to Zhang Xueliang's feet.

At almost the same time, the guards at the four corners of the hall were also taken into custody one by one.

All the armed personnel in the hall have now been disarmed; not one has escaped.

Zhang Xueming put the pistol back into its holster at his waist and clicked the buckle.

He glanced at Tan Hai kneeling on the ground, then at the guards pinned against the wall, and then slowly walked up to Zhan Lang.

"Seal off all exits of the theater: the main entrance, the back door, the side door, and all windows on the second floor—not a single one is allowed to be missed."

"The entire guard company outside has been disarmed and is being held in the courtyard under strict guard. No one is allowed to leave or pass on any information to the outside world."

"Everyone in the theater, stay where you are in the main hall. Anyone who dares to move or make a sound will be shot on the spot."

"yes!"