The next day was the 11th of March, 1815. The victorious commander, Napoleon, began to conduct a review of the troops who had been guarding Lyon.
The bridges, embankment, and streets were filled with groups of males and females alike. They followed behind Napoleon’s army, longing to catch a closer glimpse of their beloved savior. Their relentless cheers seemed to reach the skies: “Long live the King!”
Huang Xuan lay among the bushes, his left eye looking through his rifle scope. He was awaiting Napoleon’s arrival with a strange feeling in his heart. Maybe this was Napoleon’s perfect moment.
Once he successfully occupied Paris and regained control of France, and once he completely reorganized his arms, the rebellion which was once directed at the Bourbon dynasty will once again sweep through the nation.
Napoleon had no other marshal apart from Ney. He was a king whose dynasty lasted no more than a hundred days. He was not the Napoleon that they remembered.
Rolin quietly calculated the buffer zone’s energy. Not long ago, the senior partner of the American Goldman Sachs Group, Nicholas, came under attack in his hotel. He sustained serious injuries, but the gunman managed to escape. Nicholas had come to China together with America’s senior Economic and Trade delegation and had arrived less than 24 hours before the attack.
Yet, the amount of energy lost by P112 due to this was negligible compared to that lost due to the miraculous Napoleon.
…
The high-spirited Napoleon had finally made it across the suspension bridge.
Huang Xuan zeroed in on him immediately.
There were at least 3 kg worth of biological bombs buried deep in the suspension bridge. Buried under the main street in front of the suspension bridge were at least another 10 kg of the same. If they detonated the directional biological bombs towards any chosen point, there wouldn’t be one soldier left of Napoleon and his army.
Huang Xuan carefully placed his finger on the trigger.
His uncle brought him to the shooting range when he was younger. When he was teaching Huang Xuan how to shoot, he said, “You have to intentionally press the trigger, but unintentionally fire. This is the prerequisite for being a marksman.”
Yet, at this moment, Huang Xuan felt that nothing he was doing was intentional. It was as if he had drunk a glass of 60% to 70% alcohol – he was in the zone between soberness and drunkenness.
Napoleon was riding a strong Norman horse, which was meant for soldiers donning heavy armor. He was accompanied by four dragoons on either side of him. They wore huge, red apparel. Their swords were carefully attached to their hips.
Throughout the journey from Elba Island to Waterloo, Napoleon did not have a single trusted aide by his side. Although he was adored by his soldiers, he had no chance of victory in the 19th century if he could not trust his troops.
It was 10.15 in the morning.
Huang Xuan glanced at the clock on the riflescope. Rolin was very thoughtful in the way he redesigned the sniper rifle. He had installed Tetris and Pacman so that Huang Xuan could entertain himself when he felt bored.
Another 15 minutes passed. Napoleon’s horses were about to enter the city gates.
Rolin couldn’t help but to remind Huang Xuan once more, “Huang Xuan, we do not have much time left. If you don’t decide now, our best bet would be to detonate the bombs.”
That way, more innocent people would perish. Huang Xuan clearly understood what Rolin was getting at. However, he was not hesitating now.
He was paying attention to Napoleon, with remorse and a little sadness. Nothing was more regretful than the fall of an undefeatable commander.
A soldier rightfully perishes on the battlefield; a general is perhaps glorified when he falls in battle; a commander who loses his life on the battlefield is slightly foolish.
Yet the world’s most strategic and tactical commander, Napoleon Bonaparte, was about to die on a small, unfamiliar island. This was utterly ridiculous.
It was time to end it all.
Huang Xuan carefully placed his finger on the trigger. Napoleon, surrounded by people cheering and reaching out to him, walked toward the city gates. His loyal bodyguards surveyed the surroundings carefully. They struggled to keep their king safely out of reach of the people.
Unbeknownst to the people of this age, there was a certain type of gun that had an even longer range than cannons.
The riflescope let out three clicks. Huang Xuan waited. He did not know how long had passed before his finger tightened on the trigger and he felt his shoulder vibrate gently.
As long as its base was supported, the redesigned XM109’s recoil was slight. The bullet shells were pushed out of the rifle along with the recoil.
…
P129 History:
On the 11th of March 1815, at 10.52 am, Napoleon Bonaparte was assassinated in Lyon City. The whole of France mourned his death.
…
Huang Xuan slowly rose to his feet. He wanted to say something, yet he did not know what to say.
“Let’s go home,” at that moment, Rolin’s voice sounded especially comforting to Huang Xuan.
…
The news of Nicholas’ death had spread through Holiday Inn. The entire room was filled with suppressed emotions. Zhang Si’s face remained expressionless. Replacing the phone back onto the wall, he straightened his back and glanced around the room. “The minister gave me a tongue-lashing. He said I was useless, then he gave me a deadline. He wants the murderer’s identity within three days, and I’m to solve the case within seven days. Otherwise, he’ll have me sent back to where I came from. If I, Zhang Si, were to leave, it would be of my own accord. No one has ever chased me out – not now, not ever,” he had the air of a general as he spoke. He did not fit in with his surroundings, yet everybody tensed up upon hearing his words.
“Big Head, what kind of person is the murderer? What information do we have? Have we received any yet?”
“He is about 1.8 m tall. He used an AK47 and shot the victim from 800 m away. The deceased sustained two gunshot wounds in the chest area, one on his right thigh, and one on his right shoulder. We don’t have any other information.”
Zhang Si clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles cracked. “That’s all we have?”
“The deceased was attacked just before he entered the lift. The murderer was on the second floor of a shop along the streets at the time. Someone heard a blast and saw a masked man jumping out of the window. But he disappeared in a flash.”
Li Ranying’s stunning big eyes were squinted. She said, “He used an AK47 from 800 m away and managed to hit the target four times? How many shots did he fire in total?”
Big Head glanced at the information, swallowed and replied, “Six shots. The other two hit each of the deceased’s bodyguards. They both sustained minor injuries.”
Zhang Si had regained control of his emotions. He had served in the military for five years and had played with guns all his life. Of course, he knew how difficult it was to fire those six shots. In fact, the AK47 was not capable of doing such damage. Even though its sights were indeed adjustable to 800 m, its effective range was only 400 m. If one picked up a Type 56 or any other AK in the military, the instructor would surely warn him not to aim further than 300 m. It would be difficult, even for an experienced soldier, to be this accurate from such a distance.
Yet, the culprit had fired six shots in quick succession, and each one of those shots hit the intended target. Zhang Si would have found it easier to believe if this were a movie directed by someone who had no general knowledge.
It was frightening to think that this was the reality.
On the other hand, his assistant, Li Ranying, had no experience in the military. Her thinking was markedly different from Zhang Si’s. She was still deep in thought as she said, “Our culprit is a remarkable marksman. Moreover, he seemed as though he had come prepared. Why didn’t he use a better gun, like a sniper rifle? A high precision rifle would surely be better than an AK.”
Someone beside her disagreed, “Could he have done it on the spur of the moment? While the AK47 is hard to handle, it is not entirely impossible. A sniper rifle would have been far too much trouble.”
“He sniped on the spur of the moment?” Li Ranying scoffed, “I’d rather believe that he wasn’t able to obtain a sniper rifle, than that he decided to murder somebody on the spur of the moment. After all, this wasn’t a robbery.”
In the midst of this heated discussion, the wall phone began to ring once again. Zhang Si instinctively reached for it. After a long while, he put the phone down and announced, “The Americans want to speak with us. I’ll go and wrangle with them. You continue with your discussion.”
He put his coat on, paused for a moment, and instructed, “Big Head, Gold, check our records to see who entered and left the compounds recently. Pay special attention to those with criminal records.”
“Alright.” Gold was a complicated young man, who emanated an air of importance.