Chapter 9: You Have a Home in Jiangzhou?
The summer night air hung motionless, thick as spoiled porridge.
Outside the iron fence, the stench of hundreds of sweating bodies mingled with the greasy reek of gutter oil rising off the asphalt, drilling straight into the nostrils.
Black Panther stood on the hood of his Land Rover, squinting against the searchlights.
He stared at the man on the steps—alone, rifle slung across his back, a cigarette between his lips.
"Pah!" Black Panther spat a thick wad of blood-streaked phlegm onto the ground.
"You think wearing a black uniform makes you a big shot?"
His megaphone crackled. "Coming out here alone to play the tough guy? Who the hell are you trying to scare?"
The thugs below joined in, hooting and hollering.
Steel pipes clanged against the iron railings, setting everyone's teeth on edge.
Lu Zheng didn't answer.
He bit down on his cigarette, jaw muscles clenched tight, eyes bloodshot as if he hadn't slept in three days and nights.
Black Panther took the silence as a sign the cop was bluffing.
A savage grin twisted his lips. He let his hand drift down.
Two fingers tapped against his pant leg.
The gesture was too small for anyone else to notice.
A blond-haired lackey beside the Land Rover swallowed hard.
His hand trembled as it slid inside the collar of his floral shirt.
Beneath the fabric, something bulged—a sawed-off, modified five-shot shotgun.
"Cops ain't shit…" the blond muttered, trying to pump himself up.
His fingernails, black with grime, dug into the grip of the makeshift gun.
Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging like needles. He didn't dare blink, inching the barrel out.
Metal scraped against a shirt button—a faint, barely-there click.
In a crowd of hundreds, it wasn't even a mosquito's hum.
But Lu Zheng heard it.
Battlefield-honed muscle memory moved faster than thought.
One second he was lazily blowing smoke rings.
The next, the corner of his mouth went flat, and his right arm snapped up.
No shout of "Police! Freeze!"
No command to "Drop your weapon!"
He didn't even blink.
The hard stock slammed against his collarbone, his eye dropping to the sight line.
His index finger pulled the trigger.
"Bang!"
A deafening crack tore through the stifling summer night.
A blinding orange-red flash erupted from the muzzle of the Type 95.
The smell of gunpowder swallowed the reek of gutter oil whole.
Live rounds.
The screaming bullet cut through the air, searing hot.
"Ahhh—my hand!"
The blond had only pulled his shotgun halfway out.
A vivid spray of blood burst from his right shoulder.
The bullet's massive kinetic energy hurled him backward, slamming him hard against the Land Rover's bumper.
The shotgun clattered onto the asphalt, gouging a dent in the road.
The blond clutched his torn shoulder, thrashing wildly on the ground.
His screams cut sharper than the megaphone ever had.
Dead silence.
The steel pipes stopped. The curses died in throats.
Even the summer cicadas seemed to have been shocked into silence.
Black Panther's savage grin froze solid.
The scarred flesh on his face twitched.
He actually fired?
No warning, just pulled the trigger?
This wasn't a cop—this was a living King of Hell, more lawless than any of them!
"Run! Run! He's killing people!"
Someone in the crowd screamed, voice cracking.
The hundreds of thugs who'd been so cocky moments ago erupted into chaos.
The ones in front shoved desperately backward; the ones behind turned and bolted.
Shoes littered the ground.
Lu Zheng spat out the burnt-down butt of his cigarette.
He pointed the muzzle skyward and pulled the trigger again.
"Bang!"
The rage he'd been holding back came pouring out, his roar shattering the night.
"Special Police Unit! Open fire!"
The special police officers who'd been waiting at the basement entrance, seething with pent-up frustration, lit up at the order.
Zhang Qiang kicked the battered gate open.
"Hit 'em! Beat the hell out of 'em!"
Twenty-some black-armored officers poured out of the hall, riot guns raised.
"Bang bang bang bang—"
Rubber bullets rained down like hail on the crowd outside the iron fence.
They thudded dully against flesh.
Then several round tear gas canisters sailed through the air.
"Hiss—"
Thick white smoke exploded across the road.
The acrid sting of pepper spray caught the wind, blinding everyone in its path.
"Cough cough… I can't see!"
"Stop pushing! You're stepping on my foot!"
Outside the iron gate, it was hell on earth.
The thugs dropped their steel pipes, covering their faces and stumbling blind like headless flies.
Some rolled into the hedges. Others clung to utility poles, puking their guts out.
Lu Zheng found the single shots unsatisfying.
He slung the Type 95 onto his back and yanked his tactical vest tight.
One hand on the marble railing, he vaulted straight off the two-meter-high steps.
His boots hit the ground, kicking up dust.
Like a starving wolf finally let out of its cage, he plunged into the sea of white smoke and bodies.
Black Panther was pinching his nose, scrambling down from the Land Rover's roof, trying to slip away in the chaos.
One foot had just touched the ground.
A hand like an iron clamp seized the back of his collar.
"Where you going, Panther?"
Lu Zheng's voice was right against his ear, cold enough to freeze blood.
Black Panther's scalp went tight with fear.
A man who'd lived on the edge of a blade for years, he reacted on instinct—his free hand whipped a machete from behind his waist.
Without even looking, he swung backward.
The blade cut through the white smoke with a whistle.
Lu Zheng tilted his head.
The cold edge grazed his ear, shearing off a few strands of hair.
He didn't even try to dodge.
The hand gripping Black Panther's collar slammed downward.
At the same time, his right knee drove up, carrying the full weight of his body.
"Crack!"
"Snap!"
Two sickening crunches.
The knee connected squarely with Black Panther's sternum and kneecap.
The machete clattered to the ground.
Black Panther's eyes rolled white. He crumpled like a toad with its tendons cut, kneeling limp at Lu Zheng's feet.
Three ribs broken.
Both kneecaps shattered.
"Ugh… hurts…" Bloody foam bubbled from his mouth. He couldn't string together a full sentence.
Lu Zheng let go and let him slump to the ground.
He raised his heavy tactical boot and stepped unhurriedly onto Black Panther's scarred face.
Grinding it back and forth twice.
By now, the tear gas had mostly dispersed.
On the road outside the compound, bodies lay sprawled in every direction.
The remaining two hundred-odd thugs were all squatting on the curb, hands on their heads, faces smeared with snot and tears.
Not one dared lift his head.
Lin Feng came charging out with the criminal investigation team, a fistful of shiny handcuffs in his grip.
"Stay down, all of you! Anyone moves, I'll break your legs!"
Lin Feng's voice was shot.
He stepped square in a puddle of vomit, his foot slid out from under him, and he nearly did the splits.
Xiao Wang grabbed his arm. "Captain Lin, easy!"
"Get off me, I'm fine." Lin Feng's face went red as he tried to cover his embarrassment.
He jogged over to Lu Zheng, looked at Black Panther pinned underfoot, and swallowed hard.
"Commissioner Lu, that was insane… This guy's Shengshi Group's top enforcer, and you just crippled him?"
Lu Zheng rubbed the stubble just coming in on his chin.
"Crippled is crippled. Haul him back, chain him up next to the dog cage, let him keep Zhao Tai company."
Lin Feng grinned ear to ear. "You got it! Cuffs, now!"
Just as the officers were about to cuff the whole sorry lot and drag them back—
At the far end of the street, several blinding high beams swept over.
"Screeeech—"
The sharp scream of tires on asphalt cut through the air.
Exhaust pipes roared.
Four or five identical black Audi A6s, hazard lights flashing, pulled up in a show of force outside the police perimeter.
Every plate carried the Jianghai Municipal Committee prefix.
Car doors banged open.
A dozen-plus bodyguards in black suits and white gloves jumped out first, forming two rows.
The door of the middle Audi opened slowly.
A leg in polished pointed-toe shoes stepped out.
The man got out too fast—his kneecap cracked "clang" against the door frame.
"Ow, fuck!"
He doubled over, rubbing his knee hard.
When he straightened up, Lin Feng and Xiao Wang both stared.
The man wore a custom-made designer suit, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
In his hand, he held up a red-letter document stamped with a large red seal.
It was Lawyer Zhang—the same Lawyer Zhang who, hours earlier, had gotten a gun barrel shoved in his mouth and his front teeth smashed in the police station lobby.
Except now, half his face was swollen like a steamed bun.
Gauze was taped over his lips.
He limped to the bottom of the steps, took in the moaning thugs sprawled everywhere and Black Panther under Lu Zheng's boot, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.
Lu Zheng kept his foot on Black Panther's face, watching him with something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Well, well. Lawyer Zhang. That's some fast dental work."
Lawyer Zhang was shaking with rage.
He thrust the red-letter document at Lu Zheng's nose.
With his front teeth gone, his words whistled and sprayed.
"Lu—Lu Zheng! Don't you get cocky!"
He sucked in a pained breath, clutched his cheek, and kept shouting.
"This—this is a supervision order personally signed by Mayor Gao!"
He waved the document so hard it flapped, a mad gleam of triumph in his eyes.
"You're suspected of violent law enforcement and using private punishment! The Municipal Discipline Inspection Commission's investigation team is in the car!"
He spat a bloody glob to the side.
"Today—today you release Zhao Tai immediately! Take off that black uniform and come with me!"