Sudden Strike

As Chen Chuan walked forward, he felt a sudden premonition. Looking up, he saw what seemed like a figure flash past the breach atop the fortress. At that very moment inside the redoubt, Tong Qianjiang was already waiting behind the entrance, blade raised high. Though the entryway was not low, it was narrow enough that only one person could pass through at a time, and the thick, sturdy walls offered no room to retreat. Anyone charging through would be trapped, allowing him to cut them down the instant they stepped inside. Behind him, Fang Dawei and his men spread out across the open floor in grim readiness, while those on the second floor aimed their guns down at the entrance. Yet the crisp sound of footsteps, after advancing three strides toward the entryway, abruptly ceased. As everyone waited, the spider-like Lao Qi suddenly raised his head to see a figure dropping through the gaping hole in the ceiling. In that instant, the light inside the redoubt dimmed. He shouted at the top of his lungs, "He's up above!" The men hastily swung their muzzles and fired in rapid succession, but they were still a beat too late. The moment Chen Chuan landed on the circular walkway of the second floor, he dropped into a crouch and rolled aside as several bullets whizzed past. Rising smoothly with the momentum, he kicked off the floor and charged at a man nearby, his drawn blade scraping a trail of sparks along the fortress wall. The man fired two shots at him, but Chen Chuan moved astonishingly fast, staying almost flush to the floor so that both rounds flew wide. Before a third shot could be fired, Chen Chuan closed in with an upward diagonal slash. With a sharp ring, the man's head and shoulder sheared cleanly off his torso! Someone below gasped, "Lao Ba!" Chen Chuan's gaze remained glacial as he pressed forward. The next man was not far away. Perhaps fearing he might hit his comrade, he had withheld his fire at first. Now, bulging the muscles in his arms, he hoisted a heavy wooden crate beside him with a fierce shout and hurled it straight at Chen Chuan. Watching the crate hurtle forward until it almost blocked his view, Chen Chuan reached out and gave it a light deflection. Jin surged through his hands. The wooden crate, weighing at least several hundred kilograms, seemed weightless as he effortlessly swept it aside. It burst apart midair, dumping a hail of clutter onto the floor below and instantly throwing the bandits into disarray. Borrowing the momentum from deflecting the crate, Chen Chuan surged forward with even greater speed. A fierce gleam of blade light flashed, and everything from the man's chest up separated from his body and went flying. Catching sight of gun muzzles aiming at him from below, he smoothly snagged the half-torso and pulled it in front as a shield. Gunfire cracked out in rapid succession—bang, bang, bang!—every round deflected by the implants in the mutilated corpse. With a shove, he sent the half-torso crashing down toward the men below like a battering ram of wind. His feet broke into a sprint once more as he charged toward the final man on this level. The man's eyes gleamed with savagery. Tossing aside his rifle, he drew a pistol and fired repeatedly. Chen Chuan wove left and right, evading each incoming bullet with precise footwork. Within a few strides, he closed the distance and thrust his blade forward. Yet as the tip drove into the man's chest, it met unexpected resistance. Though not apparent from the outside, this man also possessed defensive implants! Shoved back two paces by the blade's sheer impact, the man seemed bolstered by brute ferocity. With a wild roar, he reached out with both hands and clamped down on the blade. Expressionless, Chen Chuan twisted his wrist and pulled. The man let out an agonized howl. Just as Chen Chuan prepared to follow through and finish him off, he sensed danger. Bracing his feet firmly on the ground, he leaned backward. A dark blur grazed past in front of him, slapped loudly against the adjoining wall, and scurried upward with thrashing limbs like a spider, vanishing into a crack. By now, Chen Chuan was tilted back at nearly a forty-five-degree angle, coiled like a bowstring drawn to its limit. Then, as if pulled forward by an immense force, he snapped back and shot forward. Because he had been momentarily delayed, the man in front of him and the bandits below seized the chance to open fire, creating a sudden crossfire that gouged bullet craters all along the surrounding walls. Chen Chuan felt a sharp poke at his ribs as a bullet struck him, but after a slight depression, the slug slid harmlessly off his protective suit. His eyes flickered slightly. He had been prepared to let his Second Self absorb any damage, but that seemed unnecessary now. The protective suit was remarkably effective, damping out almost all the kinetic shock. Dispensing with caution, he shielded his face with one arm and charged straight into the incoming bullets. Seeing him charge through the fire, the bandit hastily retreated, firing several more shots along the way. But every bullet slid off harmlessly. Terrified, the man stepped to the side, preparing to leap down to the ground floor to escape. Chen Chuan closed in at blistering speed. Reaching striking range, he swept his blade upward in an arc. One of the man's feet was severed clean off. With a scream of agony, the bandit lost his balance and tumbled midair. Chen Chuan dashed forward two paces. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he raised the long blade high overhead, gave a shout, and cleaved downward. With a clear clang, the man's severed head popped up into the air, fell back down, and rolled across the ground until it bumped against Fang Dawei's feet. By this time, realizing gunfire was useless, the surrounding bandits ceased shooting. Standing on the second-floor walkway, Chen Chuan turned slowly. He gave his blade a horizontal flick, letting the tip lightly brush the floor, and looked down below. Along the path he had just carved, blood welled copiously from the mutilated corpses, dripping down to the ground floor and splashing into crimson blossoms. Only some ten breaths had passed since he entered, yet he had swept across the entire second floor, completely wiping out everyone on that level. The survivors below looked up at him. Seeing him stand there with blade in hand, their breathing turned heavy and ragged, their eyes bloodshot. Fang Dawei's eyes flickered, and he barked, "Lao San, guard the entrance! Don't let the people below get up here!" His mind was clear. The firing ports facing outside were almost all on the second floor. Now that Chen Chuan had slaughtered everyone on the upper walkway, there was no one left to suppress the outside. The constabulary might take this opportunity to storm up the path. The main entrance had to be defended; otherwise, they would be caught in a pincer attack from inside and out, and that would be the end of them. Closest to the entrance, Tong Qianjiang heard the order and drew his gun, fired a few shots outside, and flattened himself against the edge of the entryway, keeping careful watch over the approach outside. Chen Chuan used this brief pause to regulate his breathing and take stock of the situation inside the redoubt. Aside from the severely wounded lying on the ground, roughly five people remained standing within view. One of them, a doctor in appearance, stood in a corner with his hands tucked into the pockets of his lab coat, his expression calm and detached, as if none of this had anything to do with him. As for the other four, the leader who had just spoken was undoubtedly Fang Dawei. Beside him stood the two-meter-tall giant, who had to be Tong Baitao. As for Tong Qianjiang over by the entrance, Chen Chuan had seen him before; though Tong Qianjiang had worn a mask back then, his build and gaze were unmistakable. The last was a small man with glasses, looking fearful and frail. Unlike the other ruthless bandits, he had the appearance of a technician. Guan Yuming's deputy had mentioned that six members of Fang Dawei's gang possessed implants. Chen Chuan had slain one at the entrance and another two on this walkway. That meant three should remain. Counting the spider-like man scurrying overhead, the other two had to be Fang Dawei and Tong Baitao. Indeed, both of them displayed very obvious physical mutations. Once those three were slain, the rest would pose no significant threat. He slowly raised the Xuejun Saber horizontally before him. Though it had just felled several men in succession, not a speck of blood clung to the blade. It remained as bright as new, radiating bone-chilling cold. Flicking the blade to the side, he stepped forward and dropped straight down from the second floor. With a heavy thud, he landed squarely. A plume of dust billowed out around him, spreading before settling back down as he slowly drew himself upright. Fang Dawei and his men exchanged glances and began edging forward, boxing him in. Meanwhile, Lao Qi silently crawled from the gap in the second floor to the ceiling above the ground floor, his gaze fixed on the back of Chen Chuan's head and neck. Tong Baitao discarded his gun, drew two solid steel batons from his waist, and charged with a savage snarl. At that very instant, the technician-looking small man dropped his fearful demeanor entirely. A vicious expression washed over his face as he seized a blade with both hands and slashed frantically toward Chen Chuan's head. Chen Chuan watched with icy calm. Under the convergence with his Second Self, not only his strength but also his reaction speed had doubled. In his eyes, everything around him seemed to slow down. Moreover, whether in front of him or behind him, even those outside his line of sight had their movements telegraphed through sound, scent, and subtle cues, allowing him to perceive them clearly. Though Tong Baitao and the small man charged at him together, there was a minute stagger in their timing. Chen Chuan simply took half a step toward the small man on his right and extended his long blade to give a light parrying sweep. The small man and his weapon were guided toward Tong Baitao. To avoid a collision, Tong Baitao instinctively checked his stride. At that moment, Chen Chuan flicked his blade back the other way. The small man, thrown off balance with his flank exposed to Chen Chuan, had been frantically tugging his weapon back in panic. With this second redirection, he was jerked back toward Chen Chuan, stumbling forward several uncontrolled strides as he lost his balance completely. Chen Chuan shifted half a pace to the side. As the small man stumbled past, Chen Chuan lightly slapped the back of the man's head with the back of his hand—a motion virtually identical to how he had struck the sandbag when he first mastered his jin technique. With a crisp crack, blood erupted from the small man's eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. His entire skull seemed to collapse in that single instant. Chen Chuan pressed a hand against the man's chest to arrest his forward momentum, then gave a gentle shove. The body flew through the air with a rush of wind, hurtling straight toward Tong Baitao! ... ...