Chapter 8: Which Part Offended You?
The alarm shrieked, sharp enough to drive a spike through your skull.
Red lights swept in circles across the ceiling of the hall.
The shifting glare fell on the auxiliary officer slumped on the floor, his face slick with greasy sweat, his uniform collar giving off a sour, rancid stink.
“Sur—surrounded...” The auxiliary’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed again and again. “The whole place outside is packed with people. They’ve blocked off the front and back doors!”
A vein throbbed at Lin Feng’s temple. His hand moved instinctively to the holster at his hip.
The leather clasp clicked open.
Shen Bing clutched her folder, nails digging into the stiff cardboard with a faint scraping sound.
This was the Municipal Public Security Bureau headquarters.
Did these thugs really think they could start a rebellion?
Lu Zheng ignored the auxiliary on the floor. The soles of his shoes ground across broken glass with a crunch.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and lifted a corner of the blinds with one hand.
Outside, the streetlights glowed a dim yellow.
Beyond the iron fence of the Bureau compound, hundreds of people were packed shoulder to shoulder.
Every one of them in a black vest, gripping steel pipes and homemade machetes that glinted cold in the light.
The stifling summer heat and the stench of hundreds of sweating bodies seemed to seep straight through the glass.
*Zzzla—*
Static from a cheap megaphone tore through the night, grating against the eardrums.
A burly bald man stood on the hood of a Land Rover, a scar running the length of his nose twitching along with his facial muscles.
Shengshi Group’s top enforcer—Black Panther.
“Listen up, you cops in there! This is Black Panther!”
The megaphone rattled the window glass.
“You’ve got ten minutes! Send our Young Master Tai out unharmed and we’ll call it even!”
Black Panther spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground.
“Otherwise, my brothers’ weapons don’t have eyes. Tonight we’ll smash that crappy sign of yours to splinters!”
Below, hundreds of thugs raised their steel pipes and hammered them against the iron fence.
*Clang! Clang! Clang!*
The deafening clash of metal set the water in the hall’s dispenser rippling.
A few veteran officers on the verge of retirement had gone pale, their legs trembling.
Old Liu fumbled for his phone with shaking hands.
“No good—we have to call the Provincial Department, request Armed Police support... These bastards might actually do it...”
His grip slipped.
The old-model phone hit the tile floor, its battery cover popping off and skidding away.
Shen Bing grabbed Lu Zheng’s arm, her palm slick with cold sweat.
“Commissioner Lu, this isn’t the time to be stubborn. There are too many of them. If it turns into a physical confrontation, we won’t be able to control it.”
She bit her lip, breathing fast.
“Let’s stall for time first. I’ll contact the City Riot Squad right now!”
Lu Zheng turned his head slowly.
The instant Shen Bing met his eyes, a shudder ran through her. Her fingers sprang loose as if shocked.
Lu Zheng wasn’t angry.
He smiled.
The corners of his mouth stretched into an exaggerated grin, baring stark white teeth. A thread of blood seeped from his gums where he’d clenched too hard.
That was excitement.
It was the thirst for blood buried deep in his marrow.
The PTSD had kicked in.
The foul stench of sweat in the air turned, in an instant, into the familiar smell of gunpowder.
The blaring megaphone outside became the shriek of mortars in a border jungle.
Lu Zheng felt his blood run backward. His fingertips trembled uncontrollably, every muscle in his body screaming to tear into prey.
“Call for help?”
Lu Zheng’s voice came out hoarse. He spat out a mouthful of saliva tinged with blood.
“They’re already shitting on our heads, and you want me to wait for someone else to wipe it off?”
He spun around, eyes fixed hard on Old Li from Logistics, who was shrinking into the corner.
“Give me the keys.”
Old Li gaped. “Wh—what keys, Commissioner Lu?”
“The armory keys!”
Lu Zheng strode over, tactical boots pounding against the marble floor.
“Who’s on duty for the SWAT team today?”
From the corridor on the left side of the hall, a buzz-cut man in black combat training gear came running out.
He was still holding half a cup of instant noodles.
“Reporting to Commissioner Lu: Captain Zhang Qiang, First SWAT Squad, twenty-four personnel on standby!”
Red chili oil splashed onto the back of his hand, raising a red welt. He didn’t dare wipe it.
Lu Zheng seized the brass keyring hanging from Old Li’s waist.
He yanked hard.
The belt snapped. Old Li clutched at his pants, nearly dropping to his knees.
“Zhang Qiang, take your men and follow me down to the basement level!”
Lu Zheng headed for the stairwell without looking back, leaving a trail of orders that smelled of gunpowder.
“All standby personnel, gear up in tactical vests.”
“No riot shields. No tear gas. Strip out all the rubber bullets.”
He stopped at the turn of the stairs and glanced back at Lin Feng and Zhang Qiang, who had followed.
“Issue everyone a Type 92 pistol and a Type 95 assault rifle, three live magazines each.”
A wave of sharp intakes of breath swept through the hall.
Live rounds?
Lin Feng swallowed. His throat felt dry as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand.
“Commissioner Lu, deploying automatic weapons and live ammunition—that requires written authorization from the Municipal Party Committee...”
“Authorization my ass!”
Lu Zheng kicked open the iron door leading to the basement.
Rust flakes showered down, choking the air.
“I’m the Commissioner now. If the sky falls, it falls on my head!”
Shen Bing chased after him to the stairwell, her heels clacking frantically, her voice cracking.
“Lu Zheng! There are at least four or five hundred people out there. You’ve got twenty-something. Firing guns will spark a riot!”
Her chest heaved with fury.
“You’re dragging everyone down with you!”
Lu Zheng didn’t hear her.
He pulled open the heavy security door of the underground armory.
The thick smell of gun oil mixed with the cold tang of metal rushed into his nostrils.
That scent worked better than any sedative.
The crimson haze in Lu Zheng’s eyes slowly faded, replaced by a calm so cold it was absolute.
*Click. Click.*
The sound of metal magazines snapping into chambers rose in waves.
The SWAT officers geared up in silence.
The rip of Velcro. The crisp click of tactical vest buckles locking into place.
Every palm was slick with sweat, but no one backed away.
Even Lin Feng from Criminal Investigation grabbed a bulletproof vest and cinched it tight around his waist.
Lu Zheng stripped off his worn jacket and tossed it onto an ammo crate.
He picked out a heavy tactical vest with ceramic ballistic plates and pulled it on.
The weight pressed against his chest, and his heartbeat gradually slowed.
He walked to the gun rack.
Reached out and took down a brand-new Type 95 assault rifle. His rough fingertips wiped across the cold barrel.
His thumb flicked the safety.
Off.
*Clack—*
Lu Zheng pulled the charging handle. A brass-cased round slammed into the chamber with a metallic snap that raised the hair on your neck.
He turned to face the two dozen fully armed men before him.
“Check weapons. Load your rounds.”
“No one fires the first shot without my order. But the moment I open fire—”
Lu Zheng narrowed his eyes, killing intent radiating from his whole body.
“You shoot to kill!”
The ground-floor hall.
The cursing outside grew uglier by the minute.
A beer bottle smashed against the glass with a sharp crack, shards spraying into the hall.
Shen Bing paced like a cat on a hot stove, frantically dialing Director Lei of the Provincial Department.
“Busy. Pick up, damn it—why is it busy now of all times!”
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
Heavy footsteps came from the basement stairs.
Lu Zheng walked at the front, rifle in hand.
His black tactical boots struck the tile floor like Death tolling a funeral bell.
Behind him, two dozen SWAT officers in black armor followed close, their dark muzzles gleaming with a cold light.
The officers left in the hall stared, dumbstruck.
This wasn’t maintaining order.
This was preparing to fight a small war!
Lu Zheng walked to the shattered glass door.
Half the frame still hung there, wobbling.
He didn’t pause. He raised his right foot.
*Bam!*
The half-door and its aluminum frame flew off the steps and crashed onto the concrete of the yard.
Night wind mixed with waves of heat poured into the hall.
Lu Zheng walked out the main entrance alone, striding onto the high steps.
The cursing beyond the iron fence stopped dead.
Hundreds of thugs gaped as if their throats had been cut, staring at this demon god who looked like he’d just walked out of smoke and fire.
Black Panther stood on the roof of the Land Rover, megaphone in hand. Cold sweat ran down his knife scar into his eyes, stinging sharply.
Lu Zheng slung the Type 95 diagonally across his chest.
He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his other hand rummaging through his tactical vest pocket for a lighter.
He looked up, his gaze passing over hundreds of dark heads, and locked dead onto Black Panther on the car roof.
Lu Zheng finally found the lighter. *Snap.* He lit the cigarette.
Amid the rising smoke, Lu Zheng spat out a stray fleck of tobacco and spoke with a sidelong glance.
“So you’re Black Panther? You brought this few men—is that even enough for one burst from me?”