Chapter 288: Trapped

Chapter 288: Outwitted

The twelfth year of Jiaqi, the third day of the first month, the joy of the New Year still lingers midway through its celebration. The entire Quanshan City remains a tapestry of lanterns and festive cheer, radiating warmth and merriment.

Flower lanterns of various shapes line the streets, weaving a sea of amber light. The mouth-watering aroma of delicacies fills the air, mingling with the vibrant colors of Wokou-style fish banners and the crimson glow of Ming-era wine streamers, all swaying gently in the breeze.

Even the young laborers, still on their holiday break, crowd shoulder to shoulder, their spirits undampened by the drizzle pattering overhead. Yet this festive atmosphere grows increasingly shallow and wan as it spreads southward, until it vanishes entirely.

The cold wind and rain, unimpeded by tall buildings, rage with growing audacity. The southern district of Quanshan City is a vast expanse of shantytowns, utterly disconnected from the New Year's spirit. Garbage and debris are the common sights here, the dominant hues being the gray of decay and desolation.

Though the Imperial Ministry of Works has never imposed a technological embargo on the Wokou area, the destitute souls dwelling here lack the means to improve their lot. They are the "useless" ones abandoned even by the enterprises of the Wokou district.

In the dim alleyways, unlit by lanterns, rainwater pools unevenly on the unhardened ground, reflecting the moon above and casting a chilling silver sheen, like shattered fragments of a mirror.

A sharp crack echoes as a black boot splashes into a puddle, disturbing the moonlight.

An eight-man Jinyiwei tactical squad advances swiftly through the shantytown. Clad in specialized night-combat uniforms, their faces, sharp and resolute beneath the metallic glint of flying saucer helmets, remain unyielding. Night-vision goggles grant them unimpeded sight in the gloom, as if walking on flat ground.

Though their weapons vary, most are brutal close-combat tools like the "Back-Shouldered" series. Their average ninth-rank strength allows them to infiltrate the heart of the shantytown without a sound.

Here, the raindrops have lost their fury, stripped of their capacity for havoc. Yet the deepening silence stirs a primal fear within them. Their gear detects numerous heat signatures of the living, but no human voices reach their ears.

It is as if they tread through a graveyard of the living dead.

As the squad delves deeper, they uncover the source of this eerie stillness. Through cracks in the shanty walls, they glimpse rooms choked with refuse, the stifling stench of rot emanating from stagnant rainwater. A gaunt, naked man lies on a bed, his chest rising and falling faintly—a testament to life.

A bundle of insulated wires protrudes from his skull, burrowing into the earth, leading to a Huangliang mainframe hidden somewhere beyond sight. His face twists into an unnerving expression of rapture, his body trembling with periodic spasms of excitement.

The next hut, and the next, reveal similar scenes.

A family of three—man and woman—lie side by side on a tattered mat, lost in the Huangliang dreamscape. Their eyes are shut tight, pupils behind their lids quivering rapidly, mouths parted in silent, macabre smiles.

The air reeks of decay, its source the shriveled, dark-skinned infant curled in the woman's arms.

Room after room, dwelling after dwelling, the pattern repeats.

Deep beneath the earth, a vast web of neural wires ensnares the entire shantytown. The Huangliang mainframe at the web's end, like a benefactor bestowing blessings, gifts them visions of splendor, an escape from their suffering.

Such a sight sends a bone-deep chill through the Jinyiwei, their sweat glands standing on end.

They have encountered those ensnared by Huangliang before, even put to death many a Huangliang demon who had possessed innocent souls. Yet a scene of this magnitude, in a single shantytown, is rare indeed.

For in these times, even dreams come at a cost.

The squad leader, Xiao Qi, frowns and mutters, "Boss, something's not right here. It's as if someone's deliberately providing these paupers with Huangliang dreams—and the kind that's highly addictive and forbidden!"

"I see it too," replies Fan Wuji, his voice cutting through the silence. "This confirms the intel from the Second Division. There are traces of Honghu activity here."

"But why would Honghu do this? There's no profit in giving dreams to the poor!"

"They're forging assassins."

"Assassins? With these wretches who can barely stand?"

"In reality, they're trash. But in the Huangliang dreamscape, they're all heroic knights, generals, emperors—even omnipotent deities."

Xiao Qi sneers, "Boss, you said it yourself—that's just in their dreams!"

"The dreams give them experiences beyond reality, igniting desires in their hearts. When Honghu, the dream-giver, withdraws the visions, they plunge into endless madness. One who has reigned as emperor in dreams, thrust back into the body of a beggar, has only two choices."

Fan Wuji's voice drops low, "Either claw their way back into the dream—or tear down the world of the living."

"But even if they had the guts, they lack the strength!"

"Honghu has guns. These people have lives. Those turned into hardcore Huangliang addicts are Honghu's favorite tools."

Xiao Qi freezes, then growls, "These bastards play with human lives like toys!"

"Otherwise, why would Honghu stockpile so many firearms? Their madness runs deeper than you imagine."

Fan Wuji issues an order, "Continue the search."

"Understood."

"Ah!" A red-eyed carrion bird bursts from the clouds, wings spread wide as it circles above a massive iron structure.

"Stay sharp. Intel from the Second Division confirms this is the Huangliang mainframe's location. There may be a Honghu rebel faction inside maintaining it."

Inside a command vehicle parked at the shantytown's edge, Fan Wuji studies the synchronized feed from the carrion bird, issuing orders via voice transmission, "They're likely armed with heavy weapons. If resistance occurs, show no mercy!"

"Team One acknowledges—show no mercy upon resistance!"

"Team Two acknowledges—show no mercy upon resistance!"

In the back seat, Li Jun gazes toward the shantytown, his brow furrowed.

He never expected Gong Qinghong, the man who once spared his life under Cao Cang, to surface here.

Moreover, the intel suggests Honghu operates smoothly in the Wokou area. Even meetings with the Huangshi Group's Quanshan branch are handled by him.

Gong Qinghong remains shrouded in mystery in Li Jun's mind.

Whether it was the assault on Shudao logistics in Chengdu or the sabotage of Xixia Group's "Liu Zu" celebration in Chongqing, or even the rescue of Zhao Qingxia, their paths never crossed.

Yet this man clings to Li Jun like a shadow, ever-present.

"Damn Honghu, can't even let the New Year pass in peace. They're already stirring trouble before the holiday's over. Disgusting."

Fan Wuji turns to the brooding Li Jun, grinning, "Don't worry, brother. I'll drag that punk Qinghong back here, grind his flesh inch by inch, and toss him into the imperial prison to rot forever."

"You little sycophant, can't you stop kissing up every chance you get? I'm not buying that act." Ma Wangye snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Fan Wuji straightens, "Old Ma, you don't get it. This isn't flattery—it's standing up for Brother Li! A ninth-rank master like you, and that Qinghong dares to mess with your tiger's rear end? He's asking for death!"

Ma Wang Ye shivered violently, as though repulsed by Fan Wuji’s nauseating demeanor, fearing the man might persist in his sycophancy, quickly opting to shift the topic.

"I heard Old Ghost mention that the Hong He operatives active in Quan Shan City have suffered grievously at your hands over the years, hence they’ve retreated into the shadows. Why would such a formidable force emerge so boldly now?"

"You’re mistaken, you know. Don’t let Small Bai’s dour, brooding facade fool you—he’s the most formidable deputy chief in the entire Wo civilian district’s Jin Yi Wei! His intelligence network spans the unimaginable, from high-ranking female executives in the corporate hierarchy to the proprietors of humble sake shops—all his mistresses."

Li Jun and Ma Wang Ye exchanged equally peculiar expressions, fixing their gazes on Fan Wuji.

"If it weren’t for my knowledge of your limited education, I’d suspect you were cursing Xie Bi’an."

"How could that be? It’s the highest commendation!"

Fan Wuji’s face taut with anxiety, he scanned his surroundings. Only when no shouts of outrage erupted from the Jin Yi Wei’s internal communication devices did he continue.

"Since Small Bai became our deputy chief, our workload has skyrocketed! Even the thousand-house lords in Jōdo City entertained thoughts of abducting him—had it not been for Old Ghost’s suicide bombing to annihilate their ranks, Small Bai would’ve been spirited away long ago."

Fan Wuji’s words burned with intensity: "In any case, Small Bai’s intelligence has never erred. If he claims there are Hong He operatives here, those rats must’ve nested in this very spot!"

"Team One has arrived at the designated location, preparing to storm!"

"Team Two has arrived at the designated location, preparing to storm!"

In the tent district, two fully armed Jin Yi Wei squads encircled the target dwelling in a pincer formation.

"Advance!"

At the command crackling through the communication device, the house’s doors exploded open, screaming inward.

Thick clouds of dust billowed in the darkness, only to be scattered by the swarm of figures surging forward.

"Surrender without resistance!"

"Surrender without resistance!"

Thunderous roars of command echoed in succession.

Yet the next moment, the ambushing Jin Yi Wei stood frozen, stunned by the scene before them.

Within the square chamber, four zhang in length and breadth, lay a multitude of bodies sprawled in every direction.

The air reeked of an indescribable bloodlust and fetor, the flowing crimson akin to viscous mire, deterring the Jin Yi Wei from advancing another step.

"What in the world…?"

The Jin Yi Wei squad leader at the front muttered to himself, struggling to steady his frayed nerves. He bent down, tore open a corpse’s garments, and inspected it closely.

His comrades followed suit, examining the heap of bodies.

Moments later, his subordinate’s report sent a chill down his spine.

These individuals bore faint traces of modification, yet their chests lacked mechanical hearts, nor any sign of wisdom cores or Daoist foundations.

Even the neural ports at the napes of their necks were of the rudimentary design distributed freely by the Empire during the early days of the Wo civilian district’s establishment.

Their sole commonality: pronounced symptoms of malnutrition.

These clues pointed to a singular truth—they were all paupers!

Residents of this very tent district!

According to intelligence, this was meant to be a Hong He rebel stronghold, yet it had become a charnel house of countless pauper corpses!

A foreboding dread welled in the squad leader’s chest.

At that instant, his earpiece carried Fan Wuji’s voice.

"Yaksha, you bastard—what’s the holdup? Why no movement whatsoever?!"

"Commander."

Yaksha, the alias of the squad leader, wore a complex expression, hesitating before speaking: "We’ve been outmaneuvered!"

"Outmaneuvered? What do you mean?!"

Before he could respond, a piercing sonic boom erupted outside!

Grass—it’s the fire dragon emerging from the water!

"Take cover!"

Yaksha leapt, tackling a dazed subordinate to the ground.

Boom!

Blinding flames tore through the thick darkness, the blast’s force hurling corpses and entrails into the air, mingling with shrapnel that clattered against the Jin Yi Wei.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A hail of gunfire followed, snapping the taut nerves of the Jin Yi Wei inside, prompting them to instinctively seek cover and return fire.

In an instant, the ramshackle tent house erupted in a cacophony of gunshots.

Yaksha shook his dazed head, rolled upright, and drew the embroidered spring blade from his back.

As a mechanized infantry vanguard, he trusted his blade more than firearms.

Ricocheting bullets sparked against his form, and within two strides, he reached the doorway, lifting his gaze outward.

Torrential rain lashed, and the wicked wind howled.

Staccato gunfire illuminated pairs of hate-filled eyes, their frail, emaciated forms and ragged garments!

Among them, Yaksha spotted two familiar faces.

The couple they’d glimpsed earlier, cradling their dead infant!

These ambushers—they were all paupers from the tent district!

A thunderclap of realization struck Yaksha; every thread of evidence now converged.

He finally grasped the truth: someone sought to frame them using these paupers’ lives!

At that moment, the gunfire beyond the doorway dwindled rapidly, leaving only heavy, rasping breaths converging like tides, crashing inward from all sides.

"Dare to attack us, these Wo civilians seek death!"

Some Jin Yi Wei surged forward, eager to vent their fury with bullets.

Yaksha seized the gun barrel, roaring through clenched teeth: "Cease fire! None of you fire a single shot!"

Outside, the paupers discarded their empty firearms, ceasing their assault without fleeing, merely standing in place with blood-red eyes.

Beams of light pierced the air, illuminating the flimsy tent house.

And the mountainous pile of corpses strewn across the ground!

"Quan Shan City’s Jin Yi Wei slaughter innocents wantonly, massacring without restraint, impersonating Hong He to claim credit with the lives of paupers—we demand the Empire deliver us justice!"

Countless paupers collapsed to their knees, raising their arms in desperate supplication.

"Even criminals are subjects of the Empire—we demand justice!"

Inside the tent house, every Jin Yi Wei stared at the scene, their hearts plummeting into an icy abyss, their entire being frozen in frost!

Two-in-One