Against the Current

Wei Chang'an stared at Scarface, his gaze turning exceedingly wary. He knew Scarface had undergone implant surgery; it had been noted in the man's earlier file. But he had assumed it was merely civilian-grade. While such implants could outperform ordinary human limbs in combat, their utility remained limited, and to fighters trained through proper orthodox channels like them, the advantage was hardly decisive. Military implants, however, were an entirely different matter. Military-grade implants were engineered to withstand firearms and heavy heat on the battlefield. Against the more advanced models, ordinary weapons were virtually useless. Yet implants of that caliber typically required the support of a full medical team and massive amounts of pharmaceuticals; they were never something that could just be surgically installed and forgotten. Scarface was entirely on his own—how had he managed to maintain them? Even with access to Chou Huzi's drug supply, it wouldn't have sustained him for long. Still, dwelling on that now was pointless. All he could do was figure out how to deal with him. By now, most of the personnel taking part in the encirclement had moved into position. Many had witnessed what had just happened and were stunned, though not knowing about military implants, they merely assumed Scarface was wearing protective gear beneath his clothes. Among the gathered crowd were quite a few fighters from the boxing clubs. Seeing Scarface get shot just now and appear slightly hindered in his movements, several of them thought an opportunity had presented itself and charged forward without a second thought. Wei Chang'an immediately shouted a warning: "Careful, it's dangerous!" Unfortunately, firecrackers were popping in the distance, largely drowning out his voice. Whether the men hadn't heard or simply didn't care, their momentum didn't falter in the least. Three men charged at the very front: one coming head-on, one diving for his lower body, and another flanking around behind him. The footwork of the two in front was deliberate and practiced. Anyone with experience could tell from their eyes and posture that their sole objective was to take him down. It wasn't a bad approach. No matter how tough Scarface was, once he was pinned to the ground, he would be at their mercy. Seeing them close in, Scarface swung his hammer. The first man seized the opening to dodge aside, then lunged forward, swiftly and forcefully wrapping his arms around one of Scarface's legs. The second nimbly ducked under the broken blade and hooked his arms firmly around Scarface's weapon-bearing arm. When Wei Chang'an had clashed with Scarface earlier, he had noticed his movements were slightly sluggish, suspecting the implants had hampered his coordination—perhaps due to impaired neural transmission. Although these club fighters knew nothing of that, their instincts told them how to capitalize on it. As the first two grappled Scarface, the third man flanking behind saw his chance. With a sharp shout, he delivered a powerful stomp directly to the back of Scarface's knee. The kick was solid and forceful, forcing Scarface down onto one knee. Yet in the next instant, Scarface drew a sharp, deep breath. His upper torso seemed to swell. With a wrench of his arm, the hand gripping the broken knife dragged the fighter clinging to it backward and thrust forward, driving the jagged, severed blade straight into the mouth of the fighter clutching his leg. The other two fighters recoiled in shock, but they knew there was no backing out now. The man behind threw his arms around Scarface's throat in a chokehold, while the other strained with all his might to lock down Scarface's knife arm. No matter how strong a man was, he still needed to breathe. Strangled like that, he would lose the ability to resist in just a few seconds. Choked by the neck, Scarface paused for a moment. His hammer-holding hand loosened, and the tool dropped to the ground with a thud. Just as everyone thought the hold was working, he reached up over his shoulder and clamped a hand around the man's forearm. With a single squeeze, the fighter screamed in agony as the bones in his arm were crushed to splinters. Scarface gripped the shattered arm and slammed the man violently forward over his head. The body crashed to the pavement with a heavy thud, twitched once, and went still. The fighter still holding his other arm paled in horror. He let go and scrambled to pull back, only to have Scarface grab him by the clothes. Twisting desperately, the fabric tore with a loud rip; stumbling backward, he scrambled onto all fours and fled in terror. Before he could get away, however, Scarface scooped up the engineering hammer from the ground and swung it in a vicious sweep, striking the man squarely across the back. The impact sent him pitching forward, hitting the ground motionless, devoid of any sound. Wei Chang'an let out a low sigh. Even though these weren't his own men, he truly didn't want to see lives thrown away in this manhunt. He glanced back, looking for Cai Si, but saw no sign of him. Turning immediately to an older, seasoned-looking man in the crowd, he instructed, "Old Wu, go find some ropes." Old Wu caught his drift at once and hurried off to search for ropes. Scarface paid no mind to any of this. With the interference gone, he strode briskly toward the trading market ahead. Wei Chang'an had no intention of letting him escape. If Scarface made it into a densely crowded area, capturing him aside, it would inevitably cause massive casualties and spark an uncontrollable disaster. He had to be intercepted before he broke out of this street! He bellowed, "Stall him!" Wei Chang'an himself held his ground at the rear. It wasn't that he was unwilling to charge, but because the personnel here included not just his own crew but also operatives sent by the company. He had to coordinate from the center, or those mercenaries might not budge at all. Besides, if he, the leader of the operation, were taken out of the fight, the manhunt would essentially end in failure. At his command, many rushed toward Scarface, attempting to impede his advance. The brutal scene just now hadn't deterred them. They could see that Scarface's movements weren't actually fast, and right now his only goal was to break out rather than get bogged down fighting. As long as they stayed careful and found ways to slow his steps until ropes and proper restraints arrived, it would suffice. Meanwhile, back behind the line, Cai Si had finished flushing the flour out of his eyes. Seeing the situation ahead, he yelled at the nearby shop owner, "Bring out all the oil in your shop! Peanut oil, soybean oil, cooking oil, whatever you have—dump it onto the street! Be careful not to let it catch fire!" The shopkeeper blinked, and then his eyes lit up with realization. Others nearby caught on as well, quickly scattering to gather oil from surrounding shops. If the pavement were slick with oil, even if Scarface broke through the front line, he wouldn't be able to run across easily. A few nooses would be enough to trip him up and drag him down. Everyone grasped the strategy, and the unsettled tension in the air steadied immediately. As Scarface forged ahead, he swung his weapon to bat away the pursuers harassing him while drawing heavy, labored breaths. After just a few seconds, the more observant among them noticed that his frame seemed to expand another notch. The ordinary skin on his face flushed a deep crimson, and most notably, the breath huffing from his lips looked scalding hot. His movements were no longer lumbering as before, but grew noticeably agile. His fast-paced stride transitioned into a brisk jog, accelerating with every step. Just then, several operatives dispatched by the company were about to move forward when a man of seemingly higher standing grabbed them, shaking his head. One of them asked, "Commissioner Qu, what is it?" Commissioner Qu's face was grim. "That Scarface... he likely has a modified heart and modified lungs implanted. His blood vessels, skin, and bones might very well be reinforced too. Those are frontline breakthrough implants meant for battlefields. There's no way the people we have here can stop him. Don't throw your lives away. Wei Chang'an won't be completing this commission." Even as he spoke, Scarface surged into a full charge, swinging the engineering hammer wildly. Because his speed had spiked so drastically, those in his path were either violently shoved aside when they failed to dodge in time, or batted away by the hammer. In an instant, bodies were thrown into chaos; one man was even sent flying onto a nearby rooftop. Wei Chang'an was stunned as well. Hurrying forward, he shouted, "You in front, what are you standing around for? Stall him!" Unlike before, however, only two men responded immediately to his call and moved to support him. The others either hesitated or dragged their feet. Though the two men fought desperately to block Scarface, they were completely outmatched, repeatedly flirting with death. Someone brought out a crossbow temporarily issued by the constabulary and loosed a volley. But most of the bolts ricocheted right off Scarface's body. Even the few that struck his thick, bulky arms seemed to meet a tough barrier beneath, penetrating only shallowly and dangling uselessly, doing nothing to impede his charge. Wei Chang'an took a deep breath. At this point, he had no choice but to step into the fray himself, or the consequences would be catastrophic. From the rear, Chen Chuan had been keeping a close eye on the front lines. Seeing this scene unfold, his gaze locked onto Scarface. Stepping against the current of the retreating crowd, he walked toward the towering figure.