Chapter 151: The Pitiful Gendarme Unit

Lin Yu looked at the terrified French gendarmes before him, then suddenly took a step, striding toward Dupon. The gendarme soldiers gripped their weapons tensely, but none dared to act rashly.

When Lin Yu reached Dupon, he slowly extended his right hand. Dupon instinctively reached out, but froze the instant he saw what Lin Yu held.

It was a Browning pistol.

Dupon lifted his head in terror, meeting Lin Yu's gaze. Lin Yu grinned, showing a set of neat teeth.

"Did you see?" Lin Yu whispered, "Exactly. Consul Le Mer pointed this gun at me, intending to kill."

Dupon's pupils suddenly contracted: "No… this can't be… Consul Le Mer wouldn't…"

Lin Yu cut him off: "Of course he would. To protect that imperial envoy, he'd do anything." Lin Yu's smile widened, "Just as you are now, to protect France's dignity, you'd do anything, wouldn't you?"

Dupon felt a wave of dizziness, realizing he stood on the brink of death.

"When a person faces death, his true nature emerges," Lin Yu continued, "Le Mer begged for mercy before dying; would you?"

Dupon's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, cold sweat soaking his uniform.

Lin Yu suddenly turned and waved at the German Camp soldiers behind him.

"Fire."

As soon as the words fell, a rapid volley of gunfire erupted. Dupon saw Yake's chest burst into a spray of blood as he fell. More gendarmes collapsed, their screams, gunfire, and wails intertwining.

Some tried to counterattack, but their antiquated weapons were powerless against the German Camp's superior arms. Others attempted to flee, only to be hit in the back by precise fire.

This is not a battle; it is a massacre.

Lin Yu stood beside Dupon, watching calmly. His face showed no anger, no excitement, only a detached indifference.

Dupon felt a sharp pain radiate from his chest; looking down, blood had already stained his uniform. His legs could no longer bear his weight, and he slowly knelt to the ground.

In his final moments, Dupon saw Lin Yu place the Browning pistol on the ground before him.

"Do you know?" Lin Yu's voice seemed to come from far away, "This gun has no bullets at all."

Dupon tried to reach for the gun, but his fingers only scraped the ground in vain. Before his consciousness faded completely, he finally understood—Lin Yu had never given them a choice.

When the last gendarme fell, the gunfire finally ceased. On the streets of the French Concession lay three hundred bodies in a chaotic heap, blood forming a stream that drained into the roadside gutter.

"Clear the scene," Lin Yu said to Zhou Wei, "so the people of Shen City know the fate of those who challenge me."

Zhou Wei nodded, immediately ordering soldiers to begin handling the corpses. Lin Yu cast one last glance at Dupon on the ground; his lifeless eyes remained open, silently condemning the cruelty of the massacre.

Lin Yu turned and left, a silent battlefield behind him and France's last dignity in Shen City.

Lin Yu stepped over the corpses, heading toward a black sedan parked nearby. Zhou Wei followed closely, opening the door for him. Lin Yu slid into the car, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and the smoke curled inside the cabin.

"Zhou Wei," Lin Yu began, his voice calm as if the massacre had never occurred, "I have several orders to issue."

Zhou Wei immediately produced his notebook, ready to record: "Bureau Chief, please."

"First, immediately deploy the German Camp and the security corps to arm‑control the entire French Concession. Set checkpoints on every street; all entrants and exits must be inspected. The French may move only within a hundred meters of their residences."

Zhou Wei recorded swiftly, nodding: "Understood, I will arrange it at once."

"Second," Lin Yu flicked ash, "notify the Public Administration Bureau; they must compensate for today's conflict."

"Compensation?" Zhou Wei looked up, puzzled.

Lin Yu sneered: "Exactly, compensation. They sent a gendarme unit to threaten me, causing severe psychological injury. As the victim, I have the right to demand compensation."

Zhou Wei's mouth twitched upward; he was beginning to grasp Lin Yu's intent: "Bureau Chief, what is the amount of compensation?"

Lin Yu turned his head toward the window; the streets of the French Concession looked especially fresh after the rain, with French‑style buildings beneath towering plane trees—once the pride of the French in Shen City.

"I will make the French in the concession's banks and industries sigh even when a mouse enters," Lin Yu said slowly.

Zhou Wei immediately understood Lin Yu's meaning; this was not a simple compensation but a total seizure of the French Concession's economic lifeline.

"Understood, Bureau Chief. I will draft a compensation list at once, including the transfer of shares of all French‑owned banks, ownership changes of major commercial real estate, and management rights of various enterprises."

Lin Yu nodded satisfactorily: "Very well, do so. Also, inform Feng An, have him take personnel to assume control of the French Concession police station, and dismiss all French police officers."

"And," Lin Yu added, "publicize today's events so every person in Shen City knows the French Concession is no longer French territory."

Zhou Wei finished recording, closed his notebook: "Bureau Chief, rest assured, I will personally oversee these matters."

Lin Yu leaned against the seat, closed his eyes: "Drive, back to headquarters."

The car slowly pulled away from the consulate, heading deeper into the French Concession.

In the following days, the entire French Concession fell into an unprecedented transformation.

German Camp soldiers set up checkpoints at every street corner, fully armed soldiers inspecting each person entering or leaving. The French were confined to activity around their residences; anyone violating the rules would be detained immediately.

At the French Concession police station entrance, the fluttering French flag was taken down and replaced with the Fourth Bureau's banner. Feng An led a squad of officers into the station, assuming control of all files and weapons. French police officers were dismissed; some were allowed to leave, others detained for review due to past atrocities.

The Public Administration Bureau received a compensation list spanning dozens of pages, detailing every French‑owned asset the Fourth Bureau demanded to take over. The France Bank Shen City branch, Paris Department Store, French Postal Service, French Telegraph Company… virtually every French enterprise appeared on the list.

The Public Administration Bureau's Director General Lei Nuo fainted on the spot after receiving the list, and was rushed to hospital. Upon waking, he immediately called the French Embassy in China, requesting support. Yet the embassy's reply was to "try to negotiate a solution with the local government."

In the French Concession's affluent district, owners of luxurious villas hurriedly packed their belongings, preparing to leave the now unsafe area. At the docks, tickets to Shanghai, Hong Kong, even as far as Marseille were snapped up.

Meanwhile, Fourth Bureau officials began seizing major French‑owned enterprises. The France Bank's vault was sealed, its ledgers meticulously examined. The Paris Department Store's management was completely replaced, and new administrators began inventorying stock and assets.

In streets and alleys, ordinary Shen City citizens debated. Some were shocked by Lin Yu's audacity; others secretly cheered that the tough police chief finally gave foreigners a taste of hardship.

In a café in the French Concession, several French merchants with handlebar mustaches discussed the future with furrowed brows.

"My factory has already been taken over," a plump merchant said, "they claim it's for 'review,' but who knows when it will be returned to me?"

"My situation is worse," another tall, thin merchant sighed, "the bank account is frozen, the house seized. I can't even afford a ticket back to France now."

"This Lin Yu, who exactly is he?" the third merchant whispered, "how does he dare openly challenge France?"

No one could answer. On Shen City's streets, Lin Yu's name had become legend, a symbol that struck fear into foreigners.

In the Fourth Bureau's office, Lin Yu was leafing through files seized from the French Concession police station, a cold smile on his lips. The dossiers meticulously recorded French crimes in Shen City—bribery, extortion, even murder.

"Zhou Wei," Lin Yu closed the files, "compile these materials; I want every person in Shen City to know what these so‑called 'civilized people' actually did."

Zhou Wei nodded: "Bureau Chief, rest assured, I will assign people to start immediately."

Lin Yu stood, walked to the window, and gazed at Shen City outside. The city was undergoing a seismic transformation, and he, Lin Yu, was the driver of that change.