Chapter 50: Deal at Luanfen Gang

The night wind blew like a wailing ghost, slipping through withered grass and crooked tombstones, making one's hair stand on end. Deep in Luanfen Gang, the old cypress tree, its branches clawing in the darkness, looked terrifying.

Li Ping'an crouched behind a half‑collapsed burial bag, almost merging with the dark shadow. He kept the guise of a laborer, his breath barely audible, yet his whole body felt like a drawn bow; within twenty‑to‑thirty meters he heard every sound—mice scurrying in the burial hole, a night owl landing on a dead branch, and otherwise a terrifying silence.

A quarter hour after the Rat hour, the other side still hadn't appeared.

Steady your nerves. He said to himself. In this risky line of work, caution is more important than punctuality.

After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a very light footstep, almost drowned by the wind, came from the deep grass thicket on the other side of the old cypress. It was more than one.

Li Ping'an's heart lifted, his body tensing slightly. His thoughts silently extended outward.

Two heartbeats, steady and strong, bearing deliberate, suppressed vigilance. No other ambush aura.

They came.

He didn't rush to reveal himself, staying crouched, watching the two black shadows like ink seeping from the ground, silently sliding to the base of the old cypress. One tall man was the expert he had met in the grocery store's storeroom last time. The other was slightly shorter, his movements swift, his waist bulging with gear.

The two reached the tree, said nothing, standing back‑to‑back, their four gazes scanning the dark field like spotlights, clearly checking for safety.

Li Ping'an knew it was his turn. He slowly rose from behind the burial bag, deliberately making a slight sound, like stepping on a broken dead branch.

Swish!

Two gazes instantly fixed on him, like ice knives. The short man instinctively reached for his waist.

Li Ping'an immediately halted, lowered his tattered hat, and in a hoarse, weary outsider accent whispered into the darkness, "Are… are you the boss here to collect the mountain goods?"

The tall man recognized his voice; his tense posture relaxed slightly, though his vigilance remained, and he replied softly, "How many jin of 'dry fruit' did you bring?"

"Fifty jin, more than enough," Li Ping'an answered, while slowly stepping forward a few paces, entering the opponent's vague line of sight yet keeping a safe distance.

"Bright goods," the tall man said curtly.

Li Ping'an nodded, turned his head toward the earthen kiln where he had hidden, and said, "There's a lot, heavy, stored in that kiln over there. Could you two accompany me to inspect?"

The request was unexpected. The short man immediately looked at the tall man, his eyes full of doubt. Approaching a new spot, especially one untested and possibly a trap, is a cardinal sin in this trade.

The tall man stared silently at Li Ping'an, his gaze seeming to pierce the rough‑skin disguise on his face, reaching into his heart. The air froze again, leaving only the wind's howl.

Li Ping'an returned his look calmly, his eyes muddy and humble, showing no flaw. He made the request both to show sincerity—"the goods are ready, you can inspect the spot first"—and for safety; conjuring a large cache of arms in the open would be too conspicuous.

After a few seconds of breath‑holding silence, the tall man seemed to decide. He gave a slight nod to his companion, then said to Li Ping'an, "Lead the way. No tricks."

"Won't dare, won't dare..." Li Ping'an kept nodding and bowing, turned his back, and walked toward the kiln. He could feel the two ice‑cone‑like gazes behind him nailed to his spine.

The short stretch of dozens of meters felt heart‑pounding; each step was like walking on a knife edge.

He finally scraped to the kiln entrance. Li Ping'an stepped aside, pointing inside, "It's right in there, behind the haystack."

The tall man gave his companion a look; the short man instantly darted in with agility, and moments later a suppressed, incredulous gasp came from inside.

The tall man's gaze shifted, then he signaled Li Ping'an to go in together.

In the kiln, darkness was blind, but the faint starlight filtering in allowed a view of neatly stacked Oilcloth Bags in the corner; a torn corner revealed a gleaming gun barrel and yellowish bullets.

The short man, excited, touched the cold iron piece, looked up at the tall man, and nodded vigorously. The goods were genuine, the quality better than expected.

The tall man's facial tension finally eased a bit; his gaze at Li Ping'an was less scrutinizing, more complex, "Goods inspected. Money, as agreed."

He pulled a heavy Cloth Bag from his chest and handed it over. Li Ping'an took it; it felt dead heavy in his hand. He didn't count the contents on the spot, only weighed it briefly before slipping it into his own chest (a thought moved it into his space). This briskness softened the other's expression a bit.

"How do we transport it?" Li Ping'an asked further.

"You don't need to worry about that," the tall man waved his hand, seeming to have his own arrangements. He paused, looked at Li Ping'an, and suddenly said, "Brother, you're quick‑handed and bold. Are you content to keep doing this life‑risking moving work?"

Li Ping'an felt something stir inside, but forced a wry smile, hoarsely saying, "The boss was joking... we just earn a living; what work isn't done..."

The tall man gave him a deep look, said no more, only, "Until we meet again." After that, he and his companion swiftly began hauling the heavy packages outward. They clearly had prepared; outside in the darkness there seemed to be backup people.

Li Ping'an fell back to the kiln entrance, keeping watch. Watching them work, his mind churned. The deal was done, and the relationship seemed a step closer. But the other party's final words—were they trying to recruit him? Or another test?

Just as most of the arms were about to be moved, Li Ping'an's heightened senses suddenly caught a faint, highly unusual disturbance in the distance—not wind, not insects, but a light yet orderly footstep, accompanied by a subtle metallic clink!

There are many people! And they're rushing toward us!

"Situation!" Li Ping'an whispered low, urgently reporting to the kiln, "People coming from the east and north! The footsteps are off!"

The two inside the kiln froze instantly! The tall man's face changed in an instant; he tilted his ear—his hearing was clearly not as sharp as Li Ping'an's—but a few seconds later he also vaguely heard the approaching, unsettling noise!

"Dammit! We're ambushed!" the short man cursed softly, instantly drawing the Box Cannon from his waist.

"Either they're charging us, or it's a bait!" the tall man said decisively, a ruthless glint in his eyes, "We can't keep the goods! Lao Liu, ready the explosives! Brother, sorry, you have to charge out with us!"

He said that to Li Ping'an at the end. Clearly, at this critical moment, they couldn't let this "outsider" Li Ping'an go, regardless of whether he was a dupe.

Li Ping'an's scalp tingled! The most precarious scene finally arrived!

Did something go wrong inside? Or had the Little Devils been eyeing this spot, casting a long line to lure a big fish all along?

There's no time to ponder!

In the distance, several bright flashlight beams ripped through the night sky, accompanied by the raucous shouts of Japanese Soldiers and the clack of gun bolts!

"Surround them!"

"No movement!"

The dead silence of Luanfen Gang was shattered, the killing intent exploding!

"Go!" the tall man shouted, flinging the last two bundles of ammunition to his companion, drawing two Shell Guns from his waist, and firing "Bang! Bang!" at the illuminated spot!

The gunfire cracked like exploding thunder, shattering the night's silence!

"Baka! Return fire!"

More gunfire erupted like popping beans, bullets whizzing and striking the kiln ruins, spraying sparks and clods of mud!

"Flank from the west! Their fire is weak there!" the tall man, experienced in battle, instantly assessed the situation.

The short man had already swiftly ignited the explosive fuse, tossed it toward the pile of unmoved arms, then abruptly turned to fire covering fire.

"Charge with me!" the tall man shouted at Li Ping'an, leaping out of the kiln first, twin guns spitting fire, precisely suppressing the advancing enemies.

Li Ping'an's mind flashed with countless thoughts. To charge? Too risky, but perhaps it would earn trust. To slip away? More chance, yet the effort spent might be wasted…

In an instant, he made his decision.

He suddenly crouched, not charging, but leapt like a leopard into a shallow drainage ditch beside him, shouting a terrified wail, "Mother! Don't kill me! I'm just a cargo runner!"

That wail was especially piercing amid the fierce gunfire.

The tall man was startled by the words, turned back to glance at him with a complicated look, but there was no time for thought now; he could only clench his teeth and charge forward.

Li Ping'an used the shallow ditch and dark ground for cover, rolled a few times, and quickly slipped away from the firefight's center. His mind raced, scanning the surroundings for a weak spot in the encirclement.

Gunfire, explosions (the stockpile left behind detonated), roars and cries mingled on Ruanfeng Post like a boiling pot.

Li Ping'an focused his mind, converting his thoughts, and pushed Camouflage to the limit, rolling and crawling in panic, yet always managing to dodge stray bullets and searchlights at the critical moment, like a genuinely terrified fool with terrible luck, sprinting desperately toward the direction away from the battlefield and away from Fucheng Gate…

He has to survive. Only by surviving can he figure out what happened tonight and work out his next move, how to proceed.

The gunfire behind him grew sparser, yet it tugged at his heart even more.