Chapter 27: Hidden Needle

Bai Shouhu frowned deeply upon hearing this. He turned to Bai Shouye beside him and said, "The information leaked. How did Zhou Tong find out?"

Bai Shouye gave a hehe smile. "By my reckoning, the wanted poster should have reached Lin'an by now. Zhou Tong is a local ghost who knows every inch of this ground — it's no surprise he knows. Let me sound him out, see if I can pry loose some details."

Seeing his elder brother nod, Bai Shouye rested his arms on the parapet, leaned forward, and shouted at length: "Master Zhou! Bai Shouye here. Heh, it's been years. You've certainly dug up every last bit of that business on Taihu, haven't you?"

At those words, the top of Bai Shouye's skull flew silently into the air. A heartbeat later, a distant boom rang out. Bai Shouhu and his men had no time to react; they stood frozen as the spray of blood and brain matter splattered across them. Time itself seemed to congeal, everything turning to slow motion.

Two seconds later, Bai Shouhu seemed to come to his senses. His mouth gaped wide, about to shout something — and in that instant, his neck snapped violently backward. A column of blood erupted from the back of his head, and his whole body crumpled to the ground.

The men behind him were drenched in Bai Shouhu's blood, their faces and heads covered. Everyone on the parapet was paralyzed with terror by the sequence of images. Two finally regained their wits first — one screamed, "Hidden needles!" The other yelled at the same time, "It's a fire lance!" Only then did the men on the wall recover the power of thought.

And at that moment, the same sound came from the distance again — but this time, three successive booms: boom, boom, boom. Then another three, and three more after that, three after three. The men still standing dumbly on the parapet were instantly mowed down in swathes.

Just as Cao Chuan took out the White brothers and switched his firing mode to three-round burst, Zhou Tong, below the gable wall, spun around and swung his arm furiously at Chen Huoding behind him. Chen Huoding raised his butcher's knife high and bellowed, "Follow your old man!" — then led the main force charging toward the stone-path junction.

After the main force had streamed past him, Zhou Tong turned and sprinted toward Cao Chuan's position.

By the time he reached the barricade, Cao Chuan had already emptied two magazines and was slotting in a third. He had to admit — this gun was designed too damn well. A flick of the finger and the empty magazine dropped free on its own; slap in a fresh one, and the whole process took less than two seconds.

Not a single figure remained visible on the parapet now. Flying stone chips and bullets shrouded the wall top in a haze of rock dust. Faintly, from behind the wall, came the sound of heart-rending screams.

Cao Chuan finally ceased his sweeping fire. He let out a long breath, reached over, and picked up the grenade launcher.

He deftly loaded a grenade round, stood up, and pushed over the two bamboo poles in front of him. Just then, he heard a noise behind him. Turning, he saw Zhou Tong at the entrance, with Zhao Si crouched behind him, hands clamped over his ears, eyes squeezed shut, face pale as paper.

Cao Chuan let out a hearty laugh. He turned back, began aiming, and — thump — a trail of white smoke shot out. The next instant, a blaze of fire erupted on the stone path below the manor gate, followed by an enormous, earth-shaking rumble.

Staring at the point of impact, Cao Chuan felt a twinge of puzzlement. Muttering something to himself, he lowered his head and began inspecting the weapon. It didn't take long to find the cause — he hadn't adjusted the sight.

"Well, shit." Cao Chuan reloaded, corrected the sight, and aimed. This time, the manor gate was struck dead-on. Flames burst, wooden fragments flew in all directions — half the gate was blasted apart, while the other half burned unceasingly in the fire, a column of black smoke surging into the sky.

After three more grenade rounds detonated in succession, the entire gate had long since vanished. A great blaze raged in its place. In the flickering firelight, the silhouettes of men running back and forth behind the gate flickered in and out of view, and a cacophony of shouts rose from behind the wall.

Cao Chuan stopped, laid the gun horizontally across the table, and turned to Zhou Tong. "Once the fire dies down, the brothers below can storm the stronghold."

Zhou Tong bowed with clasped hands, his voice trembling with excitement. "Yes! The men inside are already scared out of their wits. The moment we send the signal, the brothers below will charge in."

Cao Chuan leaned back in his chair. "I'll keep the parapet suppressed from here. Everyone still needs to be careful — once you go in, there will certainly be death and injury."

"No matter. To destroy such a great foe, the brothers are willing to accept a few casualties. Ah… the stronghold owes you far too much, sir. I don't know how we can ever repay you."

Cao Chuan did not reply. He pulled the gun toward him and began aiming. "The fire is nearly out. Great Lord, send the signal."

Chen Huoding was pacing anxiously at the junction, casting constant glances toward the barricade. Behind him, the men were raising a wave of battle cries, each louder than the last. Being close to the wall, they had clearly witnessed the great drama unfolding atop the parapet during their advance. The moment they saw the manor gate blasted to splinters, they first fell deathly silent — then erupted in a unified roar of triumph. Had Chen Huoding not slashed the air and cursed them back, some would already have charged forward.

Just as Chen Huoding felt he could no longer hold the line, a tattered banner at the rear finally waved. The riot captain spun around and bellowed: "Those wearing the Soft Hedgehog Armor take point! The rest, stay tight! Hold nothing back! Brothers, shoulder to shoulder — pour in!"

The moment Cao Chuan saw the stream of men begin charging up the stone path, he opened fire on the parapet. He had no confidence now in instantly picking off anyone who poked their head out; he could only spend extra bullets to create a fearsome barrage of noise and fury.

The situation did not match what he had imagined. After the gate was blasted apart, the men inside seemed to have lost all morale. By the time the main force surged through the manor gate, not a single person had been seen throwing anything down from the parapet.

Only when he saw that everyone had charged into the manor did Cao Chuan finally stop. The old man's work here was done; all that remained was to wait for word. He turned and kicked Zhao Si in the backside. "What are you standing there gawking for? Bring the water canteen!"

About an hour passed before the sounds of slaughter within the manor gradually subsided. A while later, someone came out to deliver a report. Only after Zhou Tong had met with the second wave of messengers did he begin summoning the garrison troops to enter the manor.

From the moment he first saw the blood-soaked messenger, Cao Chuan had been sniffing the air from time to time. When Zhou Tong came over to invite him in, the thought of corpses everywhere and the filthy, befouled ground made him feel he'd be far more comfortable staying outside. "This poor Daoist observes from afar that the manor seethes with a miasma of blood, foul and unclean — a great hindrance to cultivation. You all go ahead. This poor Daoist will enter once the blood-miasma has dispersed."

Zhou Tong had not expected this from Cao Chuan. He paused a moment before making arrangements, leaving Zhao Wutian with ten men to accompany Cao Chuan, while he led everyone else into the manor.

Cao Chuan turned and went back behind the barricade to begin cleaning his gun. Once everything was tidily stowed inside the ring, he let his mind wander into a daze — he was far from as relaxed as he appeared, and was in urgent need of some self-administered psychological first aid.

He had intended to chat with the few men left on garrison duty, to distract himself a little. Who knew these men would be so much more timid and withdrawn than before? When facing him, they either grinned like fools or stammered over their words. Only Zhao Wutian was somewhat better — he answered when asked, and when not, simply stood there dumbly. "This mysticism stuff works too damn well… and that's not necessarily a good thing," a certain someone sighed to himself.