Chapter 72: Crimson Ice City

Harbin's winter is so cold it can crack stone. Li Ping'an hides in an abandoned Russian‑style small building, looking through frosted glass at the lifeless street outside. Since that night he narrowly escaped from the Demon Cave, the whole atmosphere in Harbin has become noticeably more tense.

The Japanese Soldiers patrol squad on the streets has at least doubled, with a post every three steps and a sentry every five steps. Plainclothes agents sniff around like hunting dogs, stopping anyone suspicious for questioning and grabbing them outright at the slightest sign. Occasionally a black prison truck roars by, its destination and the unlucky passenger unknown.

This city once called the Moscow of the East now resembles a massive Ice Prison.

Li Ping'an rubs his numb, frozen hands. He has enough food in his space, so he isn't hungry, but he must gauge the city's situation and find his next foothold.

He puts on the railway uniform that fits him, layers a tattered cotton coat over it, dons a dog‑skin cap, and wraps himself tightly, leaving only his eyes exposed. He checks himself in a cracked mirror, looking like an ordinary low‑rank employee, unlikely to draw attention.

At dusk he slips out of the hideout building and merges into the sparse crowd. Pedestrians on the street hurry with heads down, avoiding eye contact. Occasionally a boastful Japanese expatriate walks by, and the Chinese instinctively give way.

He turns into a narrow alley where a steaming stall sells Northeastern specialties—sticky bean buns and pickled‑cabbage vermicelli. The vendor is a hunchbacked old man with cloudy eyes and sluggish movements.

Li Ping'an doesn't intend to buy food; he just wants to get close and listen to the street rumors. He pretends to tie his shoes, crouching near the stall, ears perked for any sounds.

From the sound he immediately senses something amiss. At the alley entrance two men in black padded coats pretend to smoke and chat, but keep glancing this way. There's also a vendor pushing a unicycle cart selling frozen pears; the pears are nearly ice balls, yet he makes no calls for business.

More suspiciously, the old man serving the pickled‑cabbage vermicelli's hand trembles slightly as he ladles soup, occasionally glancing toward the alley mouth, with a cold sweat on his forehead.

He's been spotted! Li Ping'an feels a chill inside. When was he exposed? Is it this outfit, or was he followed on the road earlier?

He calmly stands, brushes snow off himself, pretends to walk deeper into the alley at an unhurried pace, his ears like antennas picking up sounds behind him.

Sure enough, the two men follow, their footsteps deliberately softened yet still clearly audible in the silent alley. The frozen‑pear vendor also pushes his cart slowly toward this side.

Li Ping'an sneers inwardly. With such feeble tracking skills, they dare to go after him?

He deliberately heads into a more secluded dead‑end, and the footsteps behind quicken noticeably. Just as he nears the alley's end, he suddenly stumbles, as if slipping on packed snow, and drops to one knee.

Move! A low shout rings from behind!

Two black‑clad agents lunge forward, one drawing a rope, the other a gun!

In that split‑second flash, Li Ping'an acts! He kicks his kneeling leg hard, his body launching backward like a cannonball, striking the first agent's chest!

Crack! The sound of a shattered sternum rings sharply in the silent alley. The agent doesn't even manage a gasp before he's flung backward, slamming hard into the wall and sliding down softly.

The second agent's gun is only half drawn when Li Ping'an's hand, like iron tongs, clamps his wrist and twists it hard!

The agent lets out a pained scream as his wrist twists at an odd angle, and the handgun drops to the ground.

Li Ping'an gives him no chance to react; his other hand, fingers together like a blade, slashes the agent's Adam's apple in a flash! The scream is cut off abruptly, the agent's eyes bulge, he clutches his throat, collapses, twitches twice and then is still.

At that moment the cart vendor finally drops his camouflage, pulls a dagger from beneath the frozen pears and rushes forward; seeing this, he is terrified, turns to flee.

Li Ping'an flicks his toe, the handgun on the ground flies into his hand, and without looking he raises it and fires!

The bullet hits precisely at the vendor's knee bend. The vendor lets out a scream and collapses.

The whole maneuver is clean and swift, taking only three to five seconds from start to finish.

Li Ping'an strides forward, the barrel pressed against the vendor's occiput. Who sent you? How did you recognize me?

The vendor trembles all over, his crotch soaked: "Spare me, brave man! It's… it's an order from the Special High Section… to capture a person with a railway uniform and a Henan accent… the whole street's eyes are looking for…"

Henan accent? Li Ping'an furrows his brows. At which point did he inadvertently reveal his accent? Or was the corpse of the researcher he killed discovered?

Where is the Special High Section Headquarters? Who is the person in charge?

At… at Nangang Qu Dazhi Jie… the section chief is Ji Cun Xiu Fu… the vendor sobs, "Brave man, I'm just a runner, I have an elderly mother at home…"

Li Ping'an's gaze turns cold: "In the next life, remember to be Chinese."

The bullet ends the pain precisely.

He quickly drags the three corpses behind the trash heap, confiscates all weapons and documents, then stores each body into his space. This leaves no trace at all.

Footsteps and shouts come from the alley mouth, evidently the gunfire attracted the Patrol Squad.

Li Ping'an doesn't hesitate, turns, kicks the wall, flips like a raccoon over a one‑person‑high courtyard wall, disappearing among the tangled rooftops of the dwellings.

He moves swiftly across the roof as if on flat ground, soon far from the scene. It seems the Special High Section has already set a net over the city, searching the entire city for this Henan‑accented railway employee.

The original hideout can't be returned to, so he must find a new place quickly. Moreover he needs civilian clothes; the railway uniform is too conspicuous.

He finds a long‑abandoned dilapidated house in a slum, checks it safe, and slips inside. The interior is covered in dust and cobwebs, but at least it blocks wind and snow.

He shuts the door, focuses his mind, and his whole body vanishes into the air, entering the Spiritual Spring Space.

Inside the space it is warm like spring, a world apart from the icy outdoors. He first cups water at the spring's edge to wash his face, then picks a few fruits to stave off hunger. He then finds a dry spot to lie down, quickly slipping into deep sleep—resting in the space is far more efficient than outside.

Upon waking, he feels refreshed, the days‑long fatigue gone. He changes into a plain cotton coat he retrieved from the space, checks himself by the pond, and now he is completely a different person.

Late at night, Nangang Qu Dazhi Jie. The two‑story building housing the Special High Section Headquarters remains brightly lit. Clearly the failed daytime operation has made the atmosphere especially tense.

Li Ping'an clings to the shadow of the opposite building like a gecko, observing carefully. There are double sentries at the gate, a searchlight on the roof, and a Patrol Squad in the courtyard. The defense is quite tight.

But he notes a detail: at intervals a black sedan drives into the courtyard, seemingly to exchange intelligence or transport something.

The opportunity arrives.

He silently slips to a street corner, finds the optimal ambush spot and lies in wait. The cold wind howls, kicking up the snow, visibility is low. Perfect.

After about the time a incense stick burns, a black sedan indeed arrives, slowing at the Special High Section Gate and honking twice. The gate opens slowly.

At the instant the sedan enters the gate at its slowest speed, Li Ping'an moves!

He bursts from the shadows, leaping at the sedan like a cheetah! He raises his left hand, and two iron spikes precisely blow out the front tires!

The sedan jerks upward, the driver instinctively slams the brakes! In that split‑second pause, Li Ping'an rushes to the side of the car, his right hand gripping a grenade taken from the space, pulls the pin, and shoves it through the half‑open window into the rear seat!

Baka! What the heck?! A furious Japanese exclamation erupts from the car.

Li Ping'an ignores it, turns and runs, and after a few hops he vanishes into the darkness of the street corner.

Boom!!

A deafening explosion roars behind him! The soaring firelight illuminates the whole street like daylight! Car fragments and human tissue spray everywhere!

The Special High Section Courtyard erupts into chaos! Alarms wail, and Japanese Soldiers scramble and shout like headless flies.

Li Ping'an stands on the roof of a distant building, watching coldly. Though he's not sure if Ji Cun Xiu Fu is in the car, this greeting is enough to make the Special High Section feel the pain for a while.

More importantly, this will draw the enemy's full attention into the city, creating an opening for his next move.

He turns, melts into the night, and dashes toward the outskirts.

Demon Cave, I'll be back soon. Next time, it won't be as simple as just setting a fire.

Blood-red, it had already dyed this ice‑sealed city red. And this was only the beginning.