Chapter 136

“Run! Keep running!”

By the time Du Lengding reached the scene, the border police had already fallen back to defensive positions—in the duty room, behind stone pillars, and under the cover of shields—bracing against the relentless barrage of gunfire or dodging it as best they could.

In their eyes, dragging things out played to their advantage. They had already reported the situation to the command center, and reinforcements were surely en route. Once those arrived, it would spell doom for the attackers. Surrounded on multiple fronts, the enemy would be worn down and overwhelmed through sheer numbers, picked off one by one until none remained.

Under the command of Daredevil Team Captain Bian Mo, Dan Mu and his companions laid down heavy suppressive fire for cover. Some of them dismounted from their vehicles and crept closer to the duty room, intent on seizing the control console and throwing open the iron gate that barred the inspection area from the customs clearance exit.

Once that gate swung wide, the path ahead led straight to the clearance zone, blocked only by a flimsy traffic arm. There was little chance it could stop a truck, so Bian Mo viewed the iron gate as their final hurdle—one they were determined to smash through at all costs.

But the border station’s Station Chief saw it the same way. His officers quickly coordinated their tactics: clad in bulletproof vests and hunkered behind shields, they formed a solid defensive line in front of the duty room, holding the last bastion.

The Station Chief clutched a megaphone in his hand—negotiations were his specialty. Even against the most ruthless smugglers, he had the confidence to talk them down for a few rounds, buying precious time for reinforcements.

His parley with Aken, however, wasn’t going well. The other man’s stance was crystal clear: they’d risk life and limb to get that truck across the border.

That settled it, then. Their own goal was equally straightforward: hold the border inspection station’s gate with everything they had and take every last criminal down.

One side pressed the attack ferociously; the other dug in for a desperate defense. The standoff dragged on, the fight escalating into a brutal frenzy amid the enveloping night, the strained glow of searchlights, and the blood spraying in all directions.

From his position on the left flank, Bian Mo watched his team members drop one after another beside him. Bulletproof vests offered some protection, but the impacts still delivered crushing pain, enough to floor anyone.

And once floored, the line crumbled, exposing them to a hail of fresh bullets.

No—they had to pull back. Pressing forward now would only rack up heavier casualties. They didn’t fear losses, but they couldn’t afford to burn through their strength entirely.

After a minute-plus of fierce combat, his team withdrew in unison on his orders, falling back to the vans and once again facing off against the defenders.

Amid the chaos in Inspection Area 2, Aken had already bound Luo Zan hand and foot, dumping him into the passenger seat. He locked the cargo doors, leaped aboard, and yanked the rope around Luo Zan’s neck. “Tell them to open that iron gate!”

Luo Zan had gone from panic to numb resignation in a mere ten minutes. His expression now was eerily calm, the picture of someone who’d thrown in the towel.

“Even if you take the Station Chief hostage, it won’t matter,” he said. “Without orders from above, no one gets that gate open. Give it up.”

Aken fixed him with a chilling stare for a long moment, his tone even colder. “No problem. Once we take this station, we’ll open it ourselves.”

His words dripped venom, but his heart quaked with every burst of gunfire outside.

He itched to grab a gun and join the fray, but reason reined in his boiling blood. The instant that gate opened, he needed to floor it and get out—so he had to stay with the truck and seize the moment.

Du Lengding’s police cruiser closed in on the inspection area, then slowed as she double-checked with the command center.

“One criminal has two hostages inside Inspection Area 1,” the report came. “The border station has sealed off all access to the inspection zone, trapping the truck. Another group of criminals arrived five minutes ago for backup. They’re planning to storm the duty room, seize control of the inspection exit, and spring the truck. Support the border station—hold the duty room and the inspection area. If conditions demand it, shoot to kill.”

“Copy that.”

Du Lengding listened stone-faced, then peered through her binoculars. The scene matched the briefing: border police shielded the duty room, while several vans loomed nearby, black silhouettes darting around them amid sporadic bursts of gunfire.

Cha Nan’s voice crackled over the radio. “Captain, what’s the play? Should we wait for the troop trucks to link up?”

“Troops?” Du Lengding’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah, I spotted some vehicles coming up from behind. Two troop trucks trailing us—reinforcements, looks like.”

She stepped out and glanced back. Sure enough, several hundred meters away at the intersection, hulking shapes bobbed under the streetlights, their camouflage green flickering in the light.

Damn. This was bad—really bad.

She’d been counting on stalling, but if the troops jumped in, the other side wouldn’t stand a chance.

Du Lengding stowed her binoculars and slid back into the car, drawing a deep breath. She patched through directly to the duty room. “This is Deputy Captain Du Lengding of the Police Bureau’s Patrol Police Team, Division Police Group 2, here with reinforcements. We’re flanking right to the criminals’ side—do not fire on friendlies!”

She hung up and barked into the channel: “Everyone, follow me. Swing to the east side of the duty room!”

Bian Mo and his men, crouched behind the vans, spotted the incoming vehicle on their right but held fire.

A message came over their comms channel: more allies might be en route, possibly in official Rui’er Terrace vehicles. Everyone, stay sharp and identify before shooting.

The approaching police cruiser made Bian Mo’s pulse race, but he kept his cool. He trained his sights, finger steady on the trigger—but held his shot, giving them a chance to show their colors. Friend or foe?

To the border police, that car’s lights shone like a beacon of hope. The Station Chief let out a long breath. His prayed-for reinforcements had finally arrived.

He’d half-convinced himself he’d die there, his gun clutched like a lifeline in that cramped duty room.

“All hands, open fire on the duty room!” Du Lengding raised her pistol, sighting on an exposed head from the car window.

Shock rippled through the officers in the trailing cars. The channel went dead silent for a beat, breaths held.

“Captain Du, why?”

“That’s an order! Fire!” she snapped, her voice like iron.

Silence fell again over the radio, as if no bullets flew anywhere nearby—no compliance, just eerie quiet amid the surrounding chaos.

Du Lengding stepped out of the car. Her black uniform blended into the night even as it caught the light, drawing every eye.

The gunfire hadn’t let up, but both sides paused, hoping she could tip the deadly balance and crown a victor.

“I’ve gotten word: the duty room’s under criminal control, and there’s a mole among the border police,” she announced. “Firing on the duty room—now. Anyone who doesn’t follow orders gets treated as an accomplice!”

With that, her pistol cracked, the muzzle flash spitting sparks toward the shields fronting the duty room.

That shot bloomed like a flare in the night, pinpointing her position—and her allegiance.

The bullet slipped through a gap in the shields, shattering the duty room’s glass. The border police reeled in confusion, but her team snapped to life. They raised their pistols and fired precise shots at the target, their minds still reeling but her gunshot the unbreakable command.

Division Police Group 2’s entry tilted the scales. Pinned from front and flank, the defenders yielded ground inch by inch. Shields shifted awkwardly, exposing vulnerabilities; bullets found their marks, toppling shields and men alike, laying bare the duty room beyond.

Hope shattered, the Station Chief’s heart nearly seized.

It took all his willpower to accept the truth: these new arrivals weren’t saviors but infiltrators from the Police Bureau, here not to help but to pile on.

Despair peaked, then flipped into raw survival instinct. Wishing for rescue now was a joke. Better to rely on themselves.

Station Chief Xila snatched up his gun and edged to the broken window—perfect for shooting back. “Weapons up! Anyone who gets close, drop them. Hold that console at all costs!”

Gunfire and roars swelled fiercer than ever. Both sides went berserk, eyes red with bloodlust, locked in a final clash amid the storm of bullets.

In the heat of battle, Du Lengding spared a glance behind her.

Those troop trucks, sluggish before, had hit the alert line and halted for checks. Now they roared forward again, accelerating hard.

Her breath caught; her trigger finger went numb.

Too late. It was too late…

She assessed the field: combat raging, her side gaining the upper hand—but cracking the line would take at least four or five minutes, minimum four.

The incoming force would hit the scene in two or three.

Way too late. Absolutely too late.

Despair welled from her fingertips; even pulling the trigger felt futile.

If only she could lead her team against the trucks—but no chance of winning. It would just delay the inevitable seizure of the cargo truck.

Resigned, Du Lengding turned back. Her gaze swept coldly over the melee, the bullet-riddled duty room, the scattered shields, and the holdouts near the vans…

Amid the fray, one figure stirred. Squatting behind a van, he dropped low, snaking through the “jungle” of vehicles and comrades to an empty car. He yanked open the passenger door.

Du Lengding’s eyes sharpened. Trouble. She bolted toward the car and grabbed him before he could climb in.

“What are you doing?”

Dan Mu jolted but held his fire—he recognized friendlies. “No time! It’s urgent!”

She gripped him tight. “Tell me what—and make it quick!”

“There’s a bomb in the car. I’m blowing the iron gate.”

“I’ll do it.” She held out her hand. “Give me the detonator.”

“But—”

“No buts— that’s an order! Draw fire nearby, keep them off the inspection area. And signal the truck: get out now!”

Dan Mu froze for a split second, then obeyed, handing over the detonator. Strange—she wasn’t his boss or teammate; he didn’t even know her name. Yet her words cut like steel, compelling instant compliance.

Du Lengding pocketed the detonator, shot one last look at the approaching trucks, then dove into the empty car.

No turning back—not since she’d ordered her team to fire on the duty room.

But her comrades still had a way out. The ones in the truck—they still had a shot.

She fired up the engine, white-knuckling the wheel as if clutching a dagger—or the lives of a million kin.

She knew this op was the Giel Organization’s chance for a major bargaining chip.

And Wen Du’s one shot at survival.

The troop trucks’ headlights crested the station’s edge, overwhelming might bearing down.

At that exact instant, the bomb-laden car surged forward toward the iron gate in Inspection Area 1. Border police fired in pursuit, but Dan Mu and his team intercepted, tangling in a brutal scrum at the entrance.

The gunfire thundered, rocking the vehicle, but Du Lengding ignored it all. She barreled ahead in one desperate surge, slamming into the gate.

As the car closed in, sounds muddled, vision dimmed—but her senses sharpened. She caught the thick reek of explosives in the cabin, her heart pounding wildly.

She couldn’t recall the last time it’d raced with such raw, unbridled thrill.

Too long undercover; her body had grown alien, hardened like an executioner’s, chilled like a hangman’s. She’d shed normal human feeling to shield the faith beneath her skin.

The painted iron gate loomed ahead like a gaping maw, ready to devour—instinct screaming threat.

But Du Lengding stared it down, eyes clear and alight with eager fire.

Finally, she could fight openly, head high, all-in—for her organization.

In this moment, she wasn’t a Rui’er Terrace lackey or a Homer People’s servant. She was a Giel member, a pure warrior for life itself.

The detonator signaled. The payload erupted in cataclysmic force. In a blink, the car—and her flesh—shattered into countless shards, lethal shrapnel blasting the gate.

“BOOM——————”

The earth-shaking roar ripped through the inspection area. Buildings quaked, the ground heaved, smoke billowed skyward, smothering the lights.

In Inspection Area 1, a jagged breach glowed through the debris and haze. Dan Mu forgot the comms, bellowing at the top of his lungs:

“We’ve got a way out! Run! Keep running!”

Aken, poised at the truck, gunned it full throttle through the bullet storm, charging the gap like a berserk stallion.

The instant the troop trucks hit the battlefield, the cargo truck blasted past the customs arm—leaving Bailunting soil behind, barreling toward freedom.