Chapter 2509: Burning the Tower (22)
A muffled bang, a puff of white smoke, a flash of flame. The booby trap triggered exactly as designed. Under the combined pressure of the convex platform and the man's weight, the percussion cap fired. The instantaneous flame shot through the ignition hole in the brass spacer, igniting the propellant and launching the lead bullet straight upward. The front of the bamboo tube exploded with a sharp crack. The large-caliber soft lead round punched clean through the swordsman's left sole and flew into the air, trailing bone fragments and shredded flesh.
The lead swordsman collapsed, clutching his foot and screaming. Everyone froze at the sudden violence—everyone except Wei Mingchen, who advanced instead of retreating, striding forward to assess the damage. The man's sole was a ruined mess of blood and exposed bone. He wouldn't be walking anywhere. And caring for this liability meant leaving at least one able body behind.
Wei Mingchen surveyed the others. They watched him in silence, waiting. Part of him wanted to abandon the wounded man—or simply put him out of his misery—but he couldn't. Not with everyone watching. He drew a deep breath. "One of you take him back. The rest continue the pursuit."
As they reorganized, a faint unease stirred in Wei Mingchen's chest. Perhaps what waited ahead was not a wounded dog fleeing in desperation, but a lone wolf whose ferocity they had just awakened.
The explosion echoed from behind. Xu Tong halted and turned sharply. The booby trap packed roughly the punch of a 13mm Minié round, its report carrying perhaps three kilometers across open ground. That clear a gunshot meant his pursuers were less than a kilometer back. Even accounting for the winding field paths, they would close the distance within thirty minutes.
He watched Li Baiqing stumble forward up ahead, each step more labored than the last. Xu Tong clenched his jaw. Fight or flee—the moment of decision had arrived.
He had lost all sense of direction and could only guess at their location. But he knew they were far from any county seat or major village with National Army garrisons. The enemy had chosen this ground deliberately; the open terrain guaranteed no Australian reinforcements could arrive in time. As for local militia and township braves, they never stirred unless the fighting reached their doorsteps.
No support in sight. Enemy strength unknown. Unfamiliar terrain. Inadequate equipment. A wounded man to carry. Every factor pointed to the same grim conclusion. Alone, Xu Tong could likely shake the pursuers through sheer physical conditioning and fieldcraft. But burdened with an injured companion, whether he chose to fight or run, both paths led to the same dead end.
Li Baiqing had served as the Australian Song's eyes and ears among the populace since the shelling of Guangdong. For years he had gathered intelligence and coordinated operations, culminating in the bloodless opening of the city. Men like him—deeply embedded in Australian Song intelligence work, tested repeatedly without wavering, never exposed during the recovery of Guangdong—were rarer than phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. That rarity had earned him trust and responsibility. As a partner, he was a comrade worthy of faith.
But captured, he would become a lit fuse attached to a powder keg. Whether through willing betrayal or forced confession, even a handful of names could bring catastrophic losses. He knew too much.
If Li Baiqing couldn't leave alive, then he must stay here forever.
A cold, fierce light kindled in Xu Tong's eyes.
As if sensing something, Li Baiqing suddenly quickened his pace. He forced himself forward, ignoring the tearing pain in his abdominal wound. "I'm still—I'm still alright," he gasped between steps. "I can keep going, I can still walk..."
Behind him, Xu Tong's footsteps drew closer, the rustle of grass marking each stride. His right hand drifted slowly toward the short knife sheathed at the small of his back. Cold sweat seeped from his palm, making the grip feel like ice. His breathing grew shallow and quick.
Perhaps realizing the futility of his words, Li Baiqing's steps gradually slowed. He stopped and turned to face Xu Tong.
Their eyes met.
Li Baiqing's gaze cycled through terror, anger, helplessness, grief, and silent pleading. Then, gradually, his expression settled into calm acceptance. He exhaled softly and whispered, "I hope the Senate values this old life of mine fairly."
That peaceful gaze struck Xu Tong like a physical blow. His body went rigid. Unbidden, a memory surfaced: Li Baiqing at the alliance meeting, speaking up twice in his defense when no one else would.
His grip on the knife handle loosened.
Xu Tong couldn't say precisely why he relented. Perhaps gratitude. Perhaps he simply couldn't bear to do it. Or perhaps, as Director Wu once said, people shouldn't be held responsible for things they haven't yet done.
He couldn't untangle his own thoughts. But he knew that once he made this choice, he wouldn't reverse it.
His breathing steadied. The tension drained from his muscles. He reached out and gripped Li Baiqing's shoulder, leaving a damp handprint on the fabric. "Old Li, stop thinking dark thoughts. What I meant was—running blind like this won't work. We need a plan."
"Tied together, neither of us escapes," Xu Tong said. "If we fall into their hands, there's no path to survival. Torture until we break, or execution on the spot. And if we can't endure the torture and confess under duress, our families suffer too. Neither of us has anywhere to retreat."
He paused. "I have an idea. Listen."
Li Baiqing nodded firmly, his face pale but resolute. He had no choice but to believe. He knew that abandoning him was Xu Tong's best chance at survival.
"I can't pinpoint our location," Xu Tong continued, "but we're somewhere around Liufeng Forest. I'll find a spot to hide you and set up camouflage. When the pursuers draw close, I'll hit them head-on and lead them away. Once they're gone, you move. I scouted from higher ground earlier—there's a small path not far to the west, leading down the mountain. Looks like a woodcutter's trail. Don't worry about me. Just head west. Don't look back."
He met Li Baiqing's eyes. "Two separate paths give us better odds than one. Life and death are fated—it comes down to luck. If we both make it back safely, I'll hold a full jar and drink it dry with you, Brother Li."
Li Baiqing's lips trembled. "Thank you, Xu—"
Xu Tong cut him off with a wave. "Save the courtesies. We're out of time."
He retrieved the torn jacket from nearby and pulled several cloth strips from the hidden seams at the waist, cuffs, and hem. Each strip had slots cut into it—useful as straps, tourniquets, or camouflage bands. The key to effective concealment was breaking up the human silhouette, especially at the shoulders and head.
Xu Tong scooped a handful of damp earth, added water from his canteen, and worked it into a thick mud paste. He smeared it across Li Baiqing's exposed skin—face and hands—to eliminate any reflective surfaces. He stripped away anything that might catch light: a thumb ring, a copper button loop. Then he tied the camouflage bands around Li Baiqing's head, shoulders, and back.
He found a low-lying bush in a shadowed hollow, its vegetation dense enough to provide cover, and helped Li Baiqing crawl inside. From the surrounding area, he gathered branches and grass clumps that matched the local foliage and inserted them into the slots on the bands. He piled more beside Li Baiqing's body to shield his outline.
Stepping back ten meters, Xu Tong assessed his work. Still slightly stiff. He returned and made fine adjustments until the contours of Li Baiqing's prone form blurred completely into the terrain—no longer a man lying in the brush, but simply part of the landscape. The camouflage colors merged seamlessly with the natural background.
Satisfied, Xu Tong glanced at the sky. Dusk was settling in. The fading light would degrade visibility further—an advantage for hiding. In dim, dappled conditions, even experienced hunters sometimes couldn't distinguish a motionless person from a tree stump at first glance. But given enough time, no trace escaped a practiced eye. This hasty camouflage wouldn't fool a true tracker forever.
He moved to the edge of the bush, erased the remaining traces of their presence, and leaned close. "I'm leaving now. Remember—no matter what you see or hear, don't come out. Endure. When you see your chance, don't hesitate. Good luck."
Wei Mingchen followed the footprints, tracking Xu Tong's path with relentless focus. He had examined the buried bamboo tube booby trap. Compact, but not insignificant. The bamboo casing alone took up considerable volume. He knew that before ascending the mountain, both Xu Tong and Li Baiqing had been searched. The inspection hadn't been thorough, but they'd found no weapons or unusual items. Even if concealed armaments had slipped through, there couldn't be many—three at most.
Wei Mingchen had already identified the trap's weakness. Too small. Only capable of point damage. It required a concentration of personnel in a confined space to trigger reliably. On any reasonably wide trail, simply spreading out and avoiding the main path and obvious chokepoints would drastically reduce the chances of stepping on one.
Still, such an ingenious device confirmed what he already suspected: the target was a Kun thief spy.
He split his men into two columns and pressed forward more cautiously, accepting the scratch of branches rather than following the trampled path. Years of field experience kept their pace steady. But the absence of further obstacles nagged at him.
A second trap would have slowed the pursuit considerably—made them hesitant, bought the fugitives precious time, perhaps even convinced them to abandon the chase entirely. Had they inadvertently bypassed another device? Or had the enemy simply given up?
He couldn't know that Xu Tong had chosen not to waste his last booby trap on uncertain odds. Every remaining piece of equipment needed to serve its purpose.
Wei Mingchen glanced upward. The sky was darkening. Once night fell, he would have no choice but to call off the hunt. He needed to move faster. His time was running out too.
Xu Tong gripped a bundle of dead branches in his left hand. In his right, he carried a tree limb he'd found along the way—thick at one end, tapering to a point at the other. With his knife, he had carved a deep hollow into the thicker end's cross-section. The last booby trap fit snugly inside, only a small portion of its head protruding. He sealed the gap with wet mud and wrapped the joint tightly with cloth straps.
The result was crude but functional: a short spear with a single devastating strike hidden in its tip.
(End of Chapter)