"We should move too." Tyler raised a round table with both hands, "Those with stab vests on the front, the ones without fire crossbows from the back. Everyone, be careful, our goal is to distract the opponent, don't get shot easily!"
"I know, the real show starts later." The American followed suit, lifting a table and following him. Back in the corridor, the enemy was still assembling outside, and no one dared to enter through the door. The two took the lead, pushing the tables against the wall to use as shields, while Mingzi and Zhou Zhi took advantage of the cover and peeked out to pull their crossbow triggers toward the enemy.
In an instant, the hall erupted once more!
The sound of return gunfire crackled incessantly, sending wood shavings flying all over the tabletop—due to reinforcements, the blue-clothed people's shooting was denser than before, pressuring the four of them so that they could hardly raise their heads. The tables couldn't fully block the bullets, and many bullet heads shattered after piercing the tabletop, turning into erratic ricochets, with the whistling sound by their ears being frightening just to hear.
However, these four were no ordinary people.
The significant reduction in pain and the trump card of not truly dying gave them enough courage to counterattack under gunfire. Joe James even occasionally let out a strange cry, psychologically stimulating the opponent's nerves.
The police had it less easy.
They had shot at the table several rounds; by any logic, they should have turned the people behind it into a sieve, but that tabletop just wouldn't fall, always blocking the doorway and leaving them unable to discern the reality behind it. Meanwhile, the crossbow bolts fired from the other side were unpredictable and surprisingly powerful, taking down two more companions in less than half a minute, leaving them without breath.
"Charge in, they're only five people!" Ghost shouted, "Do you still want the bonus or not?"
"But sir, getting closer is not in our favor!"
"Not in our favor?" Ghost cursed, "You have twenty people, for god's sake, who is it not in favor of? A soft armor can only protect the body, not the head and neck! Enough, give my command, fifty credits for each head, the more you take down, the more you get!"
Seduced by the promise of a generous reward, his subordinates finally became motivated to launch a frontal assault. A few braver ones moved along the wall, reaching the door, and swapped their weapons for blades. This was a blind spot in their vision; no matter what, those in the corridor couldn't see them.
Just as Ghost was about to urge his men to strike, another subordinate brought new information, "Sir, Squad Three has spotted a rat heading towards the second floor!"
Squad Three happened to be the team circling to the rear, not many in number, just four, intended more to hold the enemy in place. Ghost could never have expected that at such a time the opposition would dare to split their forces!
No, it might also be possible that internal conflicts had arisen and someone couldn't withstand the pressure and had chosen to flee alone.
"Did they stop him?"
"Uh... no, but they said they hit him with two shots."
"Don't bother chasing, just keep them pinned down," Ghost decided after thinking. Suddenly he felt that nothing was going right tonight, the rats had never been this troublesome before, they couldn't be crushed nor blocked. "Tell Squad Three about the extra bonus too."
"Yes, sir!"
At that moment, the subordinates by the wall signaled, the gunfire ceased temporarily, and then the two leading the way suddenly sprang forth, lunging straight at the table! Using the moment when the table tilted, the ones behind followed in a stream, intending to slay the rats hidden behind it, only to find the table collapse suddenly, with nobody behind it!
Ghost realized with alarm that what had been propping up the table were actually several chairs!
The rats seemed to have been prepared all along, waiting for the opponents to lunge in before striking from both sides, hacking at them wildly. In the close quarters, screams were incessant, and within thirty seconds the vanguard was bloodied and retreated, "Fire, shoot now!"
Dense gunfire erupted once again, pushing the opposition back into the corridor.
For a moment, Ghost's face turned ashen, because he distinctly saw that eight men had gone in, but only five had returned.
One must know that those willing to charge were his closest and most trusted followers; to lose one would be one less. Gang members and hardened criminals could be found in abundance, but those he had taken time to cultivate were different.
This was the first time he had suffered such a major setback at the hands of the rats.
But what he couldn't understand was how the opposition could respond so swiftly, having made preparations against assaults in advance, even as if they had intentionally let his men in.
After all, they shouldn't have been able to see the situation outside!
"Boss, take a look over there!" someone suddenly called out.
Ghost looked up in the direction indicated by his subordinate's finger and in just that moment, he saw a tall young man climbing up the three-story scaffolding to the space above the hall. Without a doubt, the freerunner mentioned by the third squad was this person.
That area was meant for operating and changing chandeliers, typically accessed only by theater maintenance staff and lighting technicians. Moreover, the "path" to it consisted of several thick horizontal and vertical beams that didn't allow for quick movement, and there were virtually no obstacles nearby to offer cover.
This meant that the rat who ventured there had become a sitting duck.
"What is he trying to do? Is he planning to turn off the chandeliers?" Ghost frowned, "Idiot, it's not so easy to work the mechanism alone."
Besides, even if all the chandeliers were turned off, they still had wall lamps and torches. If the enemy's plan was to create chaos in the darkness, it was almost wishful thinking.
"Er… could he be trying to knock over the chandelier?"
"Then he's even more of a fool." Ghost couldn't be bothered to watch any longer, he knew this guy was as good as dead. The chandelier chains were sturdy enough to be used as ship's anchor chains; who did this person think he was, to be able to tip over a chandelier? Even if he stood on it and danced, the chandelier wouldn't budge an inch!"
…
Zhang Zhiyuan felt that one of his hands might as well have not belonged to him anymore - it was gushing blood, yet he felt no pain.
The pursuers behind were cautiously closing in, occasionally poking out to take a shot. He knew they were afraid of the crossbow in his possession, but it was a pity that all the bolts were spent; sooner or later, they would realize this.
Or maybe they already had, as the braver ones began to climb the rafters. Once they were on the same plane as him, he would have no place to hide.
"Presenter, you're listening, right?" Zhang Zhiyuan spoke, leaning against a chandelier chain.
"Yes," Chaoyang's figure appeared right in front of him.
"Unlock my pain suppression."
"Are you sure?" the presenter's voice remained mostly flat, "Intense pain could lead to shock, or leave a mark in the memory, generating an uncontrollable series of—"
"You know who I am!" Zhang Zhiyuan interrupted loudly, "Paradise invited me here for this, didn't they? Relax, I have professional training and know exactly what I'm doing!"
"Alright." Chaoyang swiped his finger.
In an instant, a surge of intense pain shot from Zhang Zhiyuan's arm straight into his brain, making his whole body shudder! But almost simultaneously, he felt that his body had become much more agile, and the hand that had been shot regained sensation. Gritting his teeth, he tore a corner from his clothing and bent down to tie it around the chain.
The layers of cloth formed a "little nest".
Then, Zhang Zhiyuan took out a package of thermite, tore open the top, and poured the crimson powder inside into the nest.
"Surrender, and we can spare your life!" There was a shout from over there, turning his head, he saw someone had climbed up the scaffolding and had his gun pointed at him.
Zhang Zhiyuan certainly didn't believe this ruse; he knew the other side was merely buying time for their comrades who were climbing up behind them.
After all, the chances of hitting a target were higher with multiple shooters than just one.
He didn't bother to pay them any more attention, simply reaching into his pocket for a match and lit the slender magnesium strip attached to the packet.
The enemy had no idea what the white-sparked object in his hand really was; to them, everything Zhang Zhiyuan was doing seemed harmless.
Only when he thrust the magnesium strip deeply into the roll of cloth—
A dazzling burst of sparks too blinding to look at suddenly bloomed in the air above the hall!