Chapter 1594 - A Desperate Struggle

Dongfang Ke was scanning through the window when three thunderous booms erupted from the front of the convoy. Men cried out and horses screamed, and chaos erupted instantly. Dongfang Ke's chest tightened—that wasn't gunfire.

"Who goes there! Don't move!" The shout from the point man at the convoy's head carried clearly to the Senators' carriage. Everyone's nerves, which had just begun to relax, snapped taut again.

The convoy lurched to a halt. Soldiers on the road formed a semicircular perimeter, muzzles raised. Guards on the carriages spotted suspicious figures on the river embankment and opened fire.

Several shotguns discharged in crossing patterns. Junior Brother Zhao, repositioning to shell the cargo wagon, caught the buckshot full-on. He tumbled from the embankment and plunged into the river.

Seeing the convoy stop, Zhuo Yifan and the others sprang from their hiding places. Flying knives and darts shot from their hands. The injured horse let out a prolonged shriek, front hooves rearing high. The coachman and guards swayed violently, and Wang Qisuo toppled from the carriage with a scream. Simultaneously, Zhuo Yifan surged toward the tightly sealed Senators' carriage.

Originally, only a handful of guards had been watching the river embankment. When the horses spooked, several men fell from the carriages instantly. Only the guard on the rear cargo wagon managed to fire in time.

A deafening boom. Zhuo Yifan felt a violent gust blast past—the whoosh of displaced air ripping by—and a pungent reek of gunpowder rushed into his nostrils. Before he could react, a scream came from behind; the junior brother bringing up the rear had likely been struck by lead shot.

Zhuo Yifan didn't dare look back. Slowing down meant becoming a target for the Hair Thieves' muskets. Meanwhile, the guard captain had gone pale. It turned out that the guards on the carriage had essentially emptied their shotguns in the burst of fire that killed the suspicious figure on the embankment. These weapons held only two rounds each, and everyone was now scrambling to reload. He raised his pistol and squeezed the trigger repeatedly at Zhuo Yifan, but in his haste and panic, not a single shot found its mark.

"Form up!" he roared.

Three or four guards who'd reacted quickly had already converged. In moments, a bristling hedge of bayonets faced Zhuo Yifan.

Zhuo Yifan knew this "spear formation" was the most difficult to breach—especially when all he had was a dagger. With no other option, he hurled the hidden weapons in his hand.

The distance was minimal. As a handful of projectiles flew, several soldiers were immediately wounded. One groaned and collapsed on the spot. The others endured their injuries and held their ground, not yielding an inch.

Seeing his storming rush had failed, Zhuo Yifan couldn't bring himself to simply flee. He steeled his resolve—shielding his chest with his left arm, brandishing the short sword in his right—prepared to charge through even if the bayonets pierced his body.

"Hair Thief, receive your—" The word "death" hadn't left his mouth when a flash erupted from the ground to his left, followed by a bang... He collapsed before the bayonet formation like a kite cut from its string.

Lying on the ground, Zhuo Yifan felt piercing pain in his left arm and abdomen—as though someone had driven awls through them. Several Fake Kun soldiers raised bayonet-tipped muskets and rushed forward to finish him.

My life ends here! The thought had barely formed when the junior brother who'd already been shot down leaped to his feet. He threw himself between Yifan and the bayonet wall, seized a stick from the ground, and—roaring—hurled himself at the formation. With one desperate push, he actually shoved the entire formation back several steps, single-handedly immobilizing them...

In an instant, a Hair Thief soldier circled from the rear-left around to the right of his fellow disciple. Seizing the moment when Junior Brother had no chance to look aside, the soldier leveled his bayonet and thrust it viciously into his right ribs—the blade punching straight through to exit his left side. Immediately afterward, bayonets from the formation stabbed into the Junior Brother's chest from the front. From behind, Yifan saw three blades pierce entirely through his back.

Junior Brother seemed impervious. He kept pushing against the formation... Then, suddenly, he turned his head. Blue veins bulged on his forehead, both eyes blood-crimson, staring at Yifan. With every remaining ounce of strength, he roared: "Senior Brother! GO!" Fresh blood gushed from his mouth.

Soldiers were already rushing over from the far side of the carriage. Another junior brother lay dead where he'd fallen. Zhuo Yifan knew that if he didn't leave now, there would be no chance at all. Gritting his teeth against the agony, he rolled and crawled until he tumbled into the river.

Before entering the water, he looked back. By then, his junior brother had been lifted on the points of several bayonets, both feet dangling off the ground...

"Chase them!" the captain shouted frantically. The assassination attempt had passed in a flash of lightning-fast action. Before the soldiers guarding the main road could rush back, Zhuo Yifan had been dragged and had rolled into the Wenlan River. The soldiers who'd rushed over could only fire blindly at the water's surface. Splashes erupted across the river, but no body floated up.

"Stop chasing!" Senator Dongfang's voice came from the carriage. "Return to the city!"

Dongfang Ke's nerves had been shattered just moments ago—he'd nearly lost his grip on the pistol. Seeing that three assassins were dead and the wounded one had escaped, he finally began to calm down.

Once his emotions stabilized, he began complaining silently: Has this captain received any security training at all? Security is supposed to be about protecting VIPs, not pursuing assassins! Completely unprofessional!

Zhuo Yifan fell into the river and let the current carry him. Grievously wounded, he drifted in and out of consciousness. Dimly, he felt someone pull him from the water, and after that, darkness consumed him completely.

He had no idea how long he'd been out. Suddenly, a coolness touched his nostrils. He shuddered awake and struggled to sit up.

"Don't move!" A voice whispered urgently in his ear, and hands pressed him back down.

The voice was familiar—Sima Qiudao's voice!

"It's you?" Zhuo Yifan was so weak he could barely speak.

"It's me. Don't talk, don't move—we haven't escaped danger yet." Sima Qiudao's whisper was soft as a mosquito's hum.

Zhuo Yifan forced himself to calm and surveyed his surroundings. Dense vegetation surrounded them, thick branches and leaves overhead. They appeared to be concealed in a thicket of brush and trees.

He didn't know where they were, but he could hear water flowing not far away—presumably still near the Wenlan River.

Before his thoughts could settle, he suddenly heard voices and footsteps approaching. The sounds grew nearer, and gradually he could make out the speakers' words: Hair Thieves, searching!

"Probe deeper with your bayonets where the brush is thick!" someone was ordering.

His heart leaped into his throat. Though the vegetation here was dense, if the Hair Thieves conducted a thorough dragnet, escape would be impossible. One glance at Sima Qiudao showed the same grim realization—he gripped a short sword tightly.

Through gaps in the foliage, Zhuo Yifan could make out several black-uniformed police prowling nearby, thrusting bayonets into the undergrowth. Just as despair began to set in, a woman's voice rang out from the distance: "Come quickly! There's a suspicious spot here!" The black-clad police who'd been approaching their hiding place immediately holstered their bird guns and ran off in that direction. The clamor of voices faded into the distance, and Zhuo Yifan let out a long breath.

Sima Qiudao lowered his short sword and exhaled in relief.

"Brother Sima, why are you here?"

"It's a long story." Sima Qiudao said, "I was by the river, ready to support the brothers hijacking the boat—but we failed at the last moment! Later I spotted you drifting down from upstream. That was close! A moment later and the Hair Thieves would have found you! Yifan, your injuries are serious."

Sima Qiudao spoke vaguely. His attempt to participate in hijacking the Xiaocang by the river had failed. He'd originally planned to leave East Gate Market immediately, but then the Rising Promotion Cannon had sounded, followed by heavy gunfire. He knew the Hair Thieves would sweep the entire city, and wandering aimlessly would likely expose him. So he'd simply found a hiding place by the river.

Severely wounded, Zhuo Yifan lacked the energy to think much. After being reminded, he realized the severity of his injuries: he'd taken a hit from the Hair Thieves' bird gun during the assassination attempt. Opening his clothing, he saw his left ribs, hip, and thigh wrapped in strips of cloth, blood having dyed both his shirt and trousers red.

"The Hair Thieves' bird gun is vicious. One shot put multiple wounds in your body! I've already removed a few pellets and applied medicine, but there are still lead bullets inside..." Sima Qiudao had some medical knowledge and military experience. He knew that lead bullets had to be extracted promptly—otherwise the wound would turn blue-black, and then even an immortal couldn't save him.

Zhuo Yifan understood this obviously wasn't the place to continue removing pellets. "I'm all right. We'll leave as soon as it's dark!" He felt his body didn't hurt too badly—just weak—and asked, "Did your ambush on the small boat succeed?"

Ambushing the Xiaocang hadn't been part of the original plan. Only the day before the operation had Seventh Master sent this intelligence, along with the band's marching route and convoy details. Sima Qiudao and Zhuo Yifan discussed and concluded that with only a few girls on the small boat, the chances of success were far better than Zhuo Yifan's group would have at the gymnasium. So they'd made a last-minute decision to split their forces. Sima Qiudao led one group to ambush the Xiaocang—the more promising target—while Zhuo Yifan bravely shouldered the heavier burden and still proceeded to the gymnasium.

Sima Qiudao's expression turned bitter: "Miserable beyond words."

He recounted how his side had set the trap, how they'd lured the boat to shore, how they'd launched their attack, how murderously effective the firearms of one young girl aboard had been, and how his side had suffered catastrophic casualties—nearly total annihilation.

"Ah, I never expected the Hair Thieves' firearms to be so sharp—all firing continuously. It was simply impossible to find an opening!" Sima Qiudao said with frustration.

"The Hair Thieves' precautions were impeccable. Losing so many heroes from righteous and renowned sects... it breaks my heart. I don't know how the others are faring." Knowing the mission had essentially failed completely, Zhuo Yifan burned with anxiety. Though he understood the others were likely doomed, he couldn't help but mention them.

"Yifan, things have come to this. You and I can't fight anymore. In my view, we should flee immediately while there's still chaos and a slim chance. Otherwise, once they search the city systematically, none of us will escape."

"That's the only option, Brother Sima. It's just... the others..." Zhuo Yifan drew a ragged breath. "But I can't shake the feeling that something about this entire matter is strange."