Chapter 900: Fight

Chapter 900: Engagement

"Hoo... hoo..." Li Huowang panted heavily, his exhaled breath misting the bulletproof glass before vanishing, only to repeat the cycle again and again.

The stagnant air in the drainage tunnel frayed Li Huowang’s nerves, especially after walking for so long with nothing to show for it. "The air is growing more pungent. Qing Wanglai, what exactly is this 'benzene' you mentioned earlier?"

Qing Wanglai did not answer; he stood behind Li Huowang with his gun raised, treating him as little more than a human shield.

"Shh, we're almost there," Zhao Shuandian whispered, passing by Li Huowang while keeping her voice low.

Her fingers danced across her laptop keyboard like a pianist’s, displaying data that surely only she could decipher.

After another twenty minutes of trekking through the frigid, subterranean passage, Zhao Shuandian suddenly reached out, took the crossbow from Zhao Lei, and aimed into the darkness ahead.

With a familiar, metallic snap, the bolt flew. Though no sound followed, Li Huowang knew something in the dark had died.

As they crept closer and clicked on their flashlights, they found a man lying by the drain with a bolt through his neck, and beside him, a massive iron door stood abruptly against the rock wall.

Clearly, the man had been a sentry, dispatched by Zhao Shuandian before he could sound the alarm.

"Shh," Li Huowang stepped forward and pried the heavy iron door open just a crack.

The blinding white light pouring from within forced him to squint, but as his eyes adjusted, he stared in shock at the cavernous factory beyond.

Beneath the barren Gobi Desert lay an entire facility—a possibility he had never once considered.

The space had been hollowed out, spanning nearly half the size of a football field, cluttered with raw materials in sacks, various vials and jars, and rows of freezers.

More strangely, a set of rails ran into the distance, with several mine carts parked upon them, presumably used for transporting goods through the tunnel.

Li Huowang couldn't immediately guess the factory's purpose, yet it felt hauntingly familiar, like a scene he had once glimpsed on television.

The realization hit him: this was a drug lab. These were narco-traffickers; no wonder the outer sentries were armed with anti-materiel rifles.

The factory had halted production, and masked men were frantically loading goods into the carts while others shouted orders, guns in hand.

The commotion outside had clearly spooked them.

Li Huowang did a quick headcount and felt a chill; there were at least a hundred or two hundred people in there. They were hopelessly outnumbered.

The others peered through the crack, and Zhao Shuandian issued her command: "See that generator? That’s their power source. On the count of one, we fire."

Her tone was chillingly calm, as if the odds—ten to one—meant nothing to her.

"Charge in? Are you trying to get us killed? Have you seen their firepower?" Li Huowang hissed, knowing they held no advantage.

He had assumed this "counterattack" would be a balanced fight, not a suicide mission against such overwhelming force.

Against so many, they stood no chance; they would need the deities from White Jade Capital to have any hope of victory.

"Do you remember what I said? I’ll ask once more: Li Huowang, are you refusing my orders?" A murderous intent radiated from behind him.

Li Huowang stared intently at Zhao Shuandian, searching her face for any sign of jest. She was dead serious.

"Does she have an ace up her sleeve?" the thought struck him. She might not value her own life, but she certainly wouldn't throw it away for nothing.

Besides, Qing Wanglai had raised no objections to such an absurd command.

"Fine. If you're willing to die, I'm willing to bury you." Li Huowang stepped aside, allowing more muzzles to poke through the gap.

Four, three, two, one! A deafening roar of gunfire erupted. As the white light inside flickered and dimmed, Li Huowang kicked the iron door open and charged.

In the pitch-black chaos, he couldn't tell friend from foe, so he treated everyone in his path as an enemy.

Whenever he collided with someone in the dark, his response was singular: a decisive blade to the heart.

Gunfire flared from the left, bullets tearing into his clothes and stinging his skin.

"Move! Are you all just watching?" Li Huowang roared. The gunfire intensified from all directions; he was trapped in a hail of lead.

The darkness became his only shield, preventing most of the rounds from finding their mark.

Just as he was carving a path, a searing pain struck his back, sending him stumbling to the ground.

He struggled to rise, scanning the chaos, but the darkness that protected him also hid his assailant. He had no idea what had struck him.

He reached back, feeling a depression in his armor; he had been hit by a blunt object, and his vest offered no protection against such force.

Since he couldn't see, he stopped trying. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him either.

He crouched low, slashing his twin blades at the legs around him. Whenever a man screamed and fell, Li Huowang would strike toward the sound to silence him.

The tactic worked; the blunt-force attacks ceased.

In the absolute blackness, the battle reached a fever pitch. No one could see, and no one knew who they were killing.

Just as Li Huowang fought for his life, a sharp sound of shattering glass rang out, and seconds later, his mind began to reel.

It wasn't just him; the sound of bodies hitting the floor suggested the others were affected too. Li Huowang, shielded by his helmet, was merely slower to succumb.

When his hand brushed the shattered test tube, he knew: Qing Wanglai had released his anesthetic.

To incapacitate the crowd, he hadn't even waited for Li Huowang to clear the blast zone.

"Damn it!" Li Huowang clung to his final shred of consciousness, ripped off his helmet, and drove his combat knife directly into his own shoulder blade.