Chapter 60: Fire Engulfs the Camps

The Tianjin Guard's weather today was so stifling people could barely breathe, as if rain were about to fall but never came. The streets were noticeably filled with Japanese Soldiers and Black Dogs, their eyes bulging, checking every passerby, especially those with a Henan accent, and none were let go; the air was tense. The explosion at the port sounded like a wasp's nest being stabbed, and the whole city grew uneasy.

Li Ping'an, however, acted as if nothing were wrong, weaving through the Small Alley. He changed into an indigo cotton shirt, a worn straw hat perched on his head, looking like a petty street vendor, completely inconspicuous. He deliberately loitered at the bustling tea‑house and warehouse entrance, ears pricked, sifting useful information from the idle gossip of the various crowds.

The West Station's storage rooms added another guard post, moving goods like thieves… Heard the newly arrived canned food and biscuits are piled there, afraid another incident will happen! Not only that, my relative works there, says there are also plenty of medicines and gauze… Little Devils are scared stiff…

The fragmented rumors gathered in his mind into a rough picture. The XiZhanHuChang, a massive warehouse in Tianjin that the Japanese Soldiers could count, was guarded like a steel barrel; it was said even a mouse entering would be searched.

That's it. Li Ping'an pressed down his hat brim, a smirk at the corner of his mouth. A steel barrel? That's only when you haven't met a can opener.

He didn't rush to act. Like the most patient old hunter, he circled the outside of XiZhanHuChang for two days. He noted which walls were high, where the barbed wire lay, how often the Patrol Squad passed, how the searchlights swung, even which nook the Sentinel liked to sneak a cigarette during shift changes; he knew it all.

On the night of the third day, the sky grew heavily overcast, the moon and stars vanished, the wind carried humidity, and rain seemed imminent. It was the perfect dark and windy hour for covert deeds.

Li Ping'an moved like a shadow, silently slipping to the northwest corner of the warehouse. The wall here was lower, with broken wooden crates piled at its base—a dead corner. Two patrol soldiers had just passed, and the searchlight beam drifted away slowly.

Now! He inhaled, channeling his inner force down to his feet, his body lifting lightly, a single hand hooking onto the wall edge, skillfully flipping over; he landed without a sound, moving so fast it seemed a trick of the eye.

Inside the warehouse the guard was even tighter—lookout towers, fixed posts, roaming sentries, layer upon layer. Yet even the densest net has gaps. Li Ping'an maximized his perception, his body darting through the shadows of cargo piles, sheds, and rail tank cars. Sometimes he seemed about to collide with a patrol, yet he vanished like melted smoke, reappearing once the squad passed to continue moving. This ability to enter and exit space made him truly formidable.

Without exerting much effort, he located the target—several rows of large brick warehouses, each entrance guarded by double posts, inside piled with the coveted canned food, biscuits, medicines, and gauze.

The toughest storage had four Japanese Soldiers posted at the entrance, nailed in place. Li Ping'an circled to the back of the warehouse, spotting a small ventilation window high up, fitted with an iron grate. He flexed his fingers, grasped two iron bars, and gradually applied force; the bars, as thick as a child's arm, silently bent under his grip, revealing a gap just wide enough for a person to slip through.

He slipped in like a ferret. Inside, piles of wooden crates and burlap sacks rose like small hills. He pried them open and indeed found neatly stacked meat cans and compressed biscuits. Another section held bundled gauze and Western medicines.

These were the blood and sweat of the common folk… Li Ping'an's gaze turned cold, but his hands did not lag. Pressing both hands onto the cargo, his thoughts accelerated. Boxes of cans, bundles of biscuits, packages of medicines and gauze vanished like a magic trick, whisked into the bottomless corner of the Spiritual Spring Space.

In the blink of an eye, he emptied most of the warehouse. Seeing the warehouse still apparently packed (in fact only its outer shell), he thought for a moment, then retrieved several bundles of Japanese Army uniforms and scattered captured weapons from the Spiritual Spring Space, stashing them in a corner as a little surprise.

Then he followed the plan to seize supplies, visiting the two adjacent small warehouses: one stocked tires, gasoline and other military provisions; the other surprisingly held leather boots and army coats. He took everything he could without hesitation, leaving only a thin outer layer as a façade.

After emptying three warehouses, the Spiritual Spring Space was nearly piled into a new mountain. He gauged the time and began preparing the final step.

He pulled from the space more timed bombs and incendiary devices than before, slipping them stealthily under the load‑bearing columns of each warehouse, into ventilation ducts, and beside the fuel piles. The timers were set for one hour later.

After finishing, he retraced his steps, again using shadows and the space to slip away, unnoticed by gods or ghosts, out of the heavily guarded XiZhanHuChang, as if he had never been there.

One hour later.

At XiZhanHuChang, a massive fireball erupted suddenly, turning the night sky into broad daylight! It was followed by a series of violent explosions! Boom! Boom boom boom!!!

The blast shook the ground, trembling the earth more than the port incident. Flames leapt skyward, roaring as they spread, turning the sky a blazing red, black smoke billowing, and the heat wave could be felt pounding faces even several miles away!

The alarm shrieked through the city, tearing hearts, as Japanese Soldiers panicked and fled, cries and fire‑truck sirens echoing… The western side of the Tianjin Guard was thrown into complete chaos!

Li Ping'an stood on a broken attic far from the warehouse, gazing at the sea of fire; the soaring flames danced in his calm eyes.

This farewell gift is more than enough.

Miyamoto Musashi, if you come after me, taste this barbecue feast first.

He didn't linger, turned and went downstairs; his shadow quickly vanished into the noisy, bustling streets.

Time to go. Destination: Dongbei.

In that icy, snowy wasteland, another even more sinister, more damned Demon Cave lies hidden, waiting for him.

The road ahead may be even more treacherous, yet his steps never falter, a resolve as if the retreat has been cut off. This fire, from Beiping to Tianjin, now aims to blaze all the way beyond the passes.