Chapter 84: First Kill

No one would believe that... Yu Dazhang stood up and stepped back one pace.

“Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

As the man rose, he fixed Yu Dazhang with a stare and asked:

“Are you a cop?”

“That’s right.” Yu Dazhang didn’t dare relax for a second, his eyes locked onto the man across from him:

“Move slowly. Put your hands on your head.”

The man obeyed, clasping his hands behind his head, then slowly shuffled toward the bedroom, muttering under his breath:

“Is there such a fat cop?”

Yu Dazhang ignored him. Only after they entered the bedroom did he speak:

“Where’s the gun?”

“What gun?” the man countered.

“Your service pistol!” Yu Dazhang suddenly barked:

“Don’t play smart with me. If I hadn’t been watching you the whole time, you’d already gone inside to grab it.”

To his surprise, the man didn’t argue further—he simply replied honestly:

“In the first drawer of the nightstand.”

Yu Dazhang glanced at the nightstand and ordered:

“Open that drawer, then put your hands on your head and retreat to the windowsill. Don’t make any extra movements.”

The man followed every instruction precisely: he opened the drawer, then slowly backed to the windowsill and turned around.

His eyes never left the man as he moved forward, reaching the nightstand, glancing into the open drawer—there, indeed, lay a handgun.

A Type 92, standard issue for criminal investigators... Yu Dazhang recognized it at a glance.

“Where’s the other one?!”

“Not with me,” the man answered bluntly:

“It was taken by Xiao Wei from the Lao Han family.”

Yu Dazhang slowly knelt, reached into the drawer, pulled out the handgun, and holstered it at his lower back.

Throughout the entire process, his eyes never left the man.

“Move. To the yard.”

Escorting the man to the pile of firewood beside the courtyard wall, Yu Dazhang commanded:

“Open the cellar lid.”

He was now certain the missing officers were inside that cellar.

After all, the service pistol had been found—that was direct evidence.

What he needed to confirm now was the current condition of the two officers.

Under Yu Dazhang’s watch, the man lifted the lid and stepped aside.

The moment the lid opened, a thick stench of blood surged out.

Yu Dazhang frowned and took one step forward.

At that moment, a distant “bang” echoed.

Gunfire!

From the sound, it was clearly a homemade crude firearm.

Then came two more “pops.”

This time—the unmistakable report of a handgun firing.

Zhang Sen is in trouble!

In the instant Yu Dazhang hesitated—

The man across from him suddenly dropped low, lunging forward like an arrow released from a bow.

In the blink of an eye, he was already within arm’s reach!

Simultaneously—

A cold, razor-sharp glint flashed, slicing straight for Yu Dazhang’s right hand, the one holding the gun.

Everything happened too fast. Yu Dazhang had no time to fire.

The man’s face twisted into a cruel grin, his eyes glinting with bloodlust.

But the next second, his swinging knife-hand was seized by a fat, powerful palm.

That fat hand clamped down like an iron vice, locking the man’s wrist in place.

Instantly, a crushing force surged through the wrist—the man grunted in pain, and his dagger clattered to the ground.

Yu Dazhang released his grip and caught the falling blade.

His left hand moved swiftly.

One slash, dead center on the man’s neck.

Withdrew the blade.

Before the man’s blood could spurt, another thrust pierced his chest.

Withdrew the blade.

One final strike—stabbed deep into the man’s abdomen.

Three strikes. Total time: one second.

Each one lethal!

The man staggered, collapsed, eyes wide open.

In his final moment, his mouth gaped wide—but no sound escaped.

The cut to his throat had severed his trachea; it was already filled with blood, his throat gurgling “gurg-gurg.”

“You were waiting for this chance, weren’t you?” Yu Dazhang crouched down, waving the dagger before the man’s face:

“Hidden beneath the wooden lid. Too bad—I’m the last person who fears close combat.”

Heightened senses mainly manifest in reaction speed.

As for physical ability, Yu Dazhang’s bulk was indeed a burden—he couldn’t run fast, that was true. But in close-quarters combat, he was unquestionably superior.

Not just reaction and speed—his strength far exceeded that of an ordinary man.

The instant the man lunged, Yu Dazhang had already prepared for a kill.

Disarming and counter-killing was a last resort.

Facing a desperate killer, he dared not hold back.

Watching the man go still, Yu Dazhang finally dared to lean into the cellar.

“Anyone down there?” he called down.

No reply.

No way... a flicker of panic rose in Yu Dazhang’s chest.

If they were dead, the blood smell wouldn’t be this fresh.

Please... please... collect 6...9...books....!

“Anyone down there?!” he repeated, unwilling to give up.

Still no answer.

But now, a muffled “mm-mm” sound came from below.

They’re alive!

Yu Dazhang exhaled in relief.

But his tension returned instantly.

Going down to rescue them was too risky.

If that woman returned and slammed the lid shut, they’d be trapped like fish in a barrel.

After a quick thought, he tossed the man’s corpse into the cellar, then pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

He glanced at the heavy iron gate nearby, calculating in his mind:

The distance from the gate to the cellar opening was about seven meters—if he heard the gate move, he could sprint upward in time.

With his hearing, even the faintest sound from the gate would be unmistakable.

Once inside the cellar, he quickly found the two men in the corner.

Their hands were bound behind their backs, rags stuffed in their mouths.

One stared at him in terror; the other lay curled up, utterly motionless.

Yu Dazhang had no time to assess their condition.

The cellar was cramped—he grabbed one man by each arm and dragged both to the cellar opening in seconds.

He hauled the conscious officer up first, then swiftly cut the ropes binding his wrists.

“Injured?” Yu Dazhang asked quickly.

“Not badly,” the officer pointed to his left arm, still oozing blood: “I can still move.”

His voice was weak—he clearly hadn’t eaten in three days.

Yu Dazhang handed him the service pistol:

“Hold this position.”

He’d seen this officer a few times in his past life—he was a senior, and though his face was smudged with dirt, Yu Dazhang recognized him.

He went back down into the cellar and sent up the other officer.

This time, with the officers above helping, the pace was faster.

“Go inside.”

Yu Dazhang slung the unconscious officer over his shoulder and sprinted into the self-built house.

After laying him down, he quickly checked the officer’s condition.

A knife wound on his lower abdomen was swollen and purple, not fatal but already infected.

Damned it… Yu Dazhang grew anxious inside.

He knew a person couldn’t last long in this state—they had to get to a hospital soon.

Fortunately, he had called Lu Zhongxin before arriving.

Given his Master’s strict attitude toward duty, he would surely have arranged for an ambulance to come along.

“Stay here and don’t move,” Yu Dazhang told the conscious officer.

“The brigade should reach the village in about an hour.”

After giving the instructions, he stood up and walked out.

“Where are you going?” the officer asked behind him.

Yu Dazhang didn’t stop walking as he replied:

“There’s another colleague outside—I’m going to support him.”

He didn’t mention Zhang Sen’s name, because he wasn’t sure which of the two officers was Zhang Sen’s Master.

The apprentice was already impulsive; if the Master was the same, it would be worse.

As Yu Dazhang stepped out of the self-built house, the big iron gate at the entrance suddenly creaked.

The gate swung open, and the middle-aged woman from earlier led the way, followed by seven or eight young men.

She had received the man’s signal and gone to call for help… Yu Dazhang faced them without fear and walked forward.

“That’s him!”

The woman pointed at Yu Dazhang, and the young men immediately surrounded him.

(End of Chapter)