Although the branches and leaves obstructed his view, Ming Han could still see more clearly than he had from the vehicle. He took out his reconnaissance binoculars and identified five observation platforms. The nearest was within range of his sniper rifle. It was also the platform closest to the tactical vehicles a moment ago. The fully armed mercenaries on it seemed to have noticed something unusual happening near the vehicles. Two were scanning the surrounding trees, searching for him.
Amid another explosion, Ming Han fired his grappling line again, swinging to a tree closer to the platform but higher up. The mercenaries clearly spotted someone flashing past, but it was too late. He steadied himself and fired several shots in succession. Three mercenaries fell. The fourth reacted quickly, however, and launched a rocket at him from close range!
Boom!
The lush canopy of the century-old tree became a gigantic fireball. Charred leaves rained down like snow.
But from within the spectacular flames, a grappling line shot out like an arrow. Ming Han swung through the fire, caught hold of a branch to the east, and sprayed the platform with bullets!
The rocket about to be launched exploded. The observation platform collapsed, scattering timber and steel reinforcement in every direction. One length of steel pierced the burning body of a mercenary.
Ming Han crouched on a branch for a brief respite and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Memories of the police academy flashed through his mind.
Chen Zheng’s class had offered an elective course in grappling-line traversal. It looked extremely impressive. Students used grappling guns to move at high speed among closely spaced buildings and tall trees, like agile apes in a jungle.
But the skill wasn’t especially practical. For one thing, it was extremely difficult; for another, there were vanishingly few opportunities to use it in peaceful surroundings. Even Chen Zheng had said he’d learned it at university and never used it afterward. Yet he’d looked unbearably pleased with himself as he said it. That bright, almost arrogant smile had seared itself into Ming Han’s memory in the years when his youthful feelings had burned hottest.
Chen Zheng had boasted to the students that he’d ranked first in the academy in that course. The students whistled and cheered him on. After securing his equipment, he used the grappling line to fly effortlessly between the training structures. Under the dazzling sunlight, Chen Zheng was a black silhouette. But to Ming Han, that silhouette left a mark like a burn from the sun, one that never faded.
Ming Han’s own class hadn’t offered that elective. Whenever he watched Chen Zheng personally guide students who struggled to master the technique, jealousy grew inside him like rampant grass. Because the course had little practical application, most students stopped practicing once their initial enthusiasm waned. After Chen Zheng left the academy halfway through his teaching appointment, no one practiced anymore.
Except Ming Han. He became the most dedicated student of all.
On countless moonlit nights, he borrowed a grappling gun and swung alone among the training buildings. No one was there to protect him or teach him from experience, and he often fell hard enough to bruise himself all over. But he stubbornly pursued the figure that had already left the academy, imagining Chen Zheng ahead of him beneath the vast sunrise or the high moon.
He mastered a skill that no one else in his year had learned, hidden away where nobody knew. In the years that followed, he never used it, just as he’d spent so many years living in the same Luocheng as Chen Zheng without allowing his one-sided love to disturb the person he treasured in his heart.
The gunfire intensified again. The destruction of the observation platform had made Ming Han the enemy’s primary target. Even moving swiftly through the treetops, he struggled to withstand the torrent of fire.
They’d discovered him. A burst of bullets struck the branch his combat boots had just left. A rocket launcher opened its enormous jaws and snapped at the fleeting shadow of his body.
“Brother Wan!” he shouted into the radio.
Bullets streaked past the special operations officer’s determined face like flashes of lightning. The officer’s shoulder-fired rocket followed immediately. A fireball erupted, giving Ming Han the cover he needed to swing onto another branch.
“Brother Ming, we’re coming!” A Li shouted as he drove the tactical vehicle across the minefield. Three guns fired simultaneously from the vehicle, forcing back the barrage from the observation platforms.
Ming Han flitted from branch to branch like a phantom rising from the abyss, completely disrupting the enemy’s rhythm. The mercenaries had to divide their attention between searching overhead for him, attacking upward, and continuing to fire on the vehicle. Ming Han and his teammates below complemented each other perfectly, forcing open a patch of sky in an inferno that had seemed inescapable.
One observation platform after another fell. A Li shouted in excitement. But just as the enemy formation seemed on the verge of complete collapse, a rocket emerged from the thick smoke and exploded behind the vehicle’s left side. The blast lifted the entire vehicle into the air. This time, A Li couldn’t save it. It rolled across the ground several times, and the people inside clutched their heads and vomited blood.
Ground support ceased. Ming Han’s pupils contracted. He peered toward the rocket’s origin and finally saw that beyond the wall of fire stood another, much larger observation platform.
No. It wasn’t merely an observation platform. It was the heart of the enemy’s firepower!
Sweat had soaked through Ming Han’s black combat uniform. He stared at the position with bloodshot eyes. Static crackled from the radio tucked against his chest, followed by A Li’s breathless voice. “W-we’re fine, Brother M-Ming. Find somewhere to h-hide. Just watch us g-get this thing upright… Fuck! Fuck! Why won’t it move?”
Ming Han drew a deep breath. The overturned tactical vehicle was a sitting duck. A Li and the others seemed badly injured and unable to climb out. Fortunately, the nearby observation platforms were already destroyed, and thick smoke blocked the distant platform’s view. But once the smoke cleared, a devastating attack would follow.
No. They might not even wait for it to clear!
A rocket passed close to Ming Han and blasted dirt everywhere. The mercenaries were firing blind!
The radio carried shrill explosions interspersed with A Li’s increasingly feeble curses. Ming Han knew he couldn’t waste another second. He was the only effective fighting force left here. If he stayed hidden, this forest would become his comrades’ grave!
Whoosh!
The grappling line shot out like lightning. Ming Han flew through the smoke as explosions rose beneath him. It was as though he’d been caught in a rain of meteors at the end of the world, surrounded by blazing spheres of heat. The thick smoke was gray-green, nearly black, like faces drained of life. He raced through mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. He was stepping over death, but reaching for life.
Closer. Closer! The towering platform amid the flames resembled a monster that devoured everything. Its weapons swung toward him but lost track of his lightning-fast movements. He could hear the mercenaries laughing and cursing. Infuriated yet certain of victory, they swung their enormous electric flyswatters, intent on crushing this reckless little “fly.”
Ming Han reached a position above and to the right of the platform and opened fire instantly. A machine gunner seized his chest, convulsed, and fell. Bullets struck the instant Ming Han left the branch, but he vanished among the trees again, using his speed to mislead the mercenaries.
Another opportunity came. After repeatedly losing their target, the mercenaries cursed while changing magazines. Ming Han sprang forward, but the prolonged exertion had exhausted him. His right foot slipped on the trunk, and he lost his balance. Bullets came hurtling through the air. Even though he twisted with every scrap of strength he had, there wasn’t enough time!
His grappling line was severed. His pupils tightened, his body folded, and he plummeted helplessly toward the ground!
A rain of bullets tore through his arm, drawing streaks of blood in midair. Suddenly, a rocket exploded terrifyingly close. Flames filled his entire field of vision and swallowed him too.
Everything slowed, like a series of images flashing past before death. He swallowed lightly. The immensely powerful enemy platform was struck by heavy bombardment and broke apart. The sight was strangely familiar. It resembled the construction crane that had snapped in the storm at the unfinished Yunxiang Theater site in Junan City the previous year. Back then, Chen Zheng had appeared like a divine warrior descending from the sky and snatched him from the hands of death.
Ming Han forced a breath from his chest. He thought, with a flash of anger, Why hadn’t I worked harder at the academy? There’d been plenty of grappling guns. The training buildings were empty at night. He could’ve practiced from sunset until dawn.
He’d admired the way Chen Zheng flew through the sunlight so much. Why had he still slacked off? If he’d practiced even one more hour back then, would he have been able to evade those stray bullets today?
A towering blaze rose beneath the enemy platform. Fireballs tumbled down, and the steel structure collapsed completely. At the same moment, Ming Han fell toward the ground. He closed his eyes. But the imagined agony of bones piercing his organs never came. It was as though a swift wind swept past him, gentle and embracing, yet as powerful as lightning and a waterfall. Before he could react, someone had caught him, pressing his head protectively against a chest as they rolled rapidly over earth fouled by gunpowder smoke and rot.
Buried in that familiar embrace, he was held so tightly that, even as they rolled at frightening speed, their bodies seemed to become one. Gunfire, flames, life, and death could not pull them apart.
The gunfire gradually subsided, and their rolling slowed. When they finally stopped, Ming Han lay on his back among grass and leaves, panting. A face drenched in sweat slowly took shape in his unfocused vision.
Chen Zheng braced himself on either side of him. Though his body was slighter than Ming Han’s, the shadow he cast was tall and dependable, strong enough to reclaim a life that had nearly slipped away once more.
Both men were utterly exhausted. Their chests heaved uncontrollably, their breathing gradually finding the same rhythm until the two patterns became one. Ming Han reached out with a trembling hand to touch Chen Zheng’s face. He was too tired; his arm wouldn’t rise. Chen Zheng caught his hand and helped him press his palm against his cheek.
“Bro…” Ming Han called hoarsely.
Sweat dripped from Chen Zheng onto Ming Han’s face and ran toward his torn lip. Blood and sweat seeped between his lips and over his tongue, salty and metallic. He licked his lips instinctively, his rough fingertips trembling against Chen Zheng’s cheek.
Suddenly Chen Zheng bent down and kissed his bloodied mouth.
Only then did Ming Han’s confused mind finally clear in the wake of their narrow escape. He wrapped his arms tightly around Chen Zheng, rolled over with him, and kissed him as though he meant to steal the last breath from his lungs, there before the crackling wall of fire.
“Officer Chen!”
“Brother Ming! Ming Han!”
Li Gongsheng and A Li ran over from the other side of the line of fire. Chen Zheng helped Ming Han to his feet. Li Gongsheng hurriedly checked them for injuries. A Li limped on one leg and gazed at Ming Han as though at a heavenly being. “Brother Ming, you’ve won me over! You’re unbelievable! Without you we’d be roast chickens on skewers by now!”
Ming Han looked at Chen Zheng. “Bro, how did you…?”
“Let’s get in the car first,” Chen Zheng said. “Wen Wu and the others made it here too. Thank goodness they got here in time.”
The overturned Vehicle Two had been righted. A special operations officer was seriously wounded, and Wen Wu was giving him emergency treatment. The three vehicles stood together, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. Ordinary vehicles would have been destroyed long ago.
When Chen Zheng received Ming Han’s radio call, he’d wasted no time before telling Zhou Jue to drive northeast. There were minefields on the way and rockets falling without pause, but Zhou Jue drove like a madman, Li Gongsheng fought like one, and together with the special operations officers they somehow managed to suppress the enemy’s fire for a brief interval.
Chen Zheng seized the opening to snipe mercenaries on the platforms. He’d also hit upon the same idea as Ming Han, using rifle shots to test where the mines were.
Just as Vehicle Two was blasted over and rendered unable to fight, Vehicle One arrived, drawing some of the fire away from Ming Han, who was exposed among the bullets. Li Gongsheng shouted and fired his shoulder-mounted launcher. Three rounds struck the ammunition store on the platform, setting off an enormous chain of explosions. Vehicle Three arrived moments later and destroyed the observation platform on the other side that had been preparing to reinforce it.
But Ming Han fell from the tree. The shock wave swept across his body. In Chen Zheng’s eyes, he was like a fallen autumn leaf drifting helplessly toward earth.
There seemed to be no saving him.
But Chen Zheng gave a thunderous roar. “Zhou Jue, go!”
Zhou Jue did everything he could to race toward Ming Han. The tactical vehicle flew over the flames, and no one expected that in that instant Chen Zheng would use the momentum of the moving vehicle to spring from its roof, diving toward Ming Han!
At the very moment Ming Han reached the ground, Chen Zheng caught his limp body and rolled rapidly to absorb the force of the fall. Zhou Jue stared at the terrifying sight, his mouth hanging open for a long time.
The immediate danger had largely passed. The mercenaries hiding in the forest were dead or wounded. Communications resumed, though reception remained poor, and good news came through: another joint police team from both countries had entered the forest from the east.
Chen Zheng decided to wait there briefly and struggled to report the ambush to Lu Hejing. The mercenaries who’d attacked them hadn’t been identified, but the precision of the ambush suggested they might have been backed by the opponents of Long Fusheng, Li Dongchi, and their allies. Those people were determined to stop Country M’s police from destroying the Heaven-Measuring Ruler and had tried to turn the Hua Country officers’ journey north into a crematorium.
Li Gongsheng ground his teeth in fury and fired a burst of bullets into a corpse.
Half an hour later, reinforcements arrived, led personally by Li Dongchi. Looking ashamed and disheveled, he said, “It’s my fault. I couldn’t keep you safe.”
Chen Zheng shook his head. On an overseas mission, there was no simple division between protectors and protected. He didn’t trust Li Dongchi, but he knew the man genuinely wanted the Heaven-Measuring Ruler eliminated. Whatever private motives he might have, for now they had to stand together.
The seriously wounded special operations officer was transferred to Li Dongchi’s vehicle. The convoy set off again. Behind them, thick black smoke poured from the dense forest, as though a wound the country had carried for decades were bleeding and festering.
Ming Han moved into Chen Zheng’s vehicle. Chen Zheng traded seats with Li Gongsheng, moving from the front passenger seat to the back. Wen Wu had treated Ming Han’s injuries, which were not serious for the moment, but he was exhausted and rested quietly against Chen Zheng’s shoulder.
The forest road was so uneven that the vehicle rocked violently. Chen Zheng found a blanket to cushion Ming Han, making him a little more comfortable. Sleepy from the medication, Ming Han murmured to himself, “Should’ve practiced more.”
Chen Zheng patted his cheek. “What are you talking about in your sleep?”
Ming Han rubbed his face against Chen Zheng’s shoulder. “The grappling gun. You taught all of them, but you never taught me. That’s why I didn’t learn it properly.”
Chen Zheng froze. Only now did he have a chance to replay the sight of Ming Han suspended in midair.
Their equipment included grappling guns, but those hadn’t been brought from home. The Country M police had supplied them at short notice. In Country M, such acrobatic equipment had a genuine purpose. And as for him, he’d merely learned how to use one…
His gaze stopped. He remembered Cheng Cu saying that Ming Han had secretly watched his classes and practiced alone afterward.
Trees streamed past the windows, sunlight and shadow flickering across them. Chen Zheng lowered his head and met Ming Han’s eyes. The sharp contours of the grown man’s face seemed to soften for an instant, becoming the young, inexperienced face of years ago.
“I’m sorry,” Chen Zheng said.
Ming Han blinked. “Bro? What did you say?”
Chen Zheng stroked his face with his fingertips. “I never taught you.”
Just as the tactical convoy was about to leave the forest, torrential rain suddenly fell. Dark clouds pressed down like leaden waves, and columns of rain hammered the leaves with a noise reminiscent of the barrage of gunfire that had only just ended, enough to make the heart tremble.
The flames fought against the rain but gradually weakened, becoming enormous clouds of black smoke. They rose like a vast wall, cutting off the convoy’s retreat. Chen Zheng looked back. Dull red sparks remained in the smoke, like countless malicious eyes watching them drive toward another desperate place.
The forest road had been difficult enough before. Now soil and rotting vegetation mixed into sludge, and some depressions became temporary swamps. Once a vehicle sank into one, it took enormous time and effort to free it.
The rain delayed the convoy. When they finally escaped the devouring forest and reached southern Jielan, they saw burning houses and severed limbs scattered across the ground.
“The Heaven-Measuring Ruler has already started fighting,” Li Dongchi said, looking at the drifting smoke ahead. He turned to Chen Zheng. “Officer Chen, this is actually our opportunity. The Liang Yueze you want to arrest and the Jin Xiuhe I want to eliminate may exhaust each other. Then we can reap the benefits.”
Even so, Chen Zheng’s heart sank. He’d seen many horrific crime scenes in Hua Country, but even the cruelest murderer he’d encountered couldn’t compare with what lay before him. He’d traveled abroad on official business several times, but only to study and observe, seeing prosperity, peace, and stability.
From a collapsed building nearby came a low, agonized cry. He couldn’t help looking. A man dressed as a mercenary had lost the lower half of his body; his face was mangled beyond recognition. He was stretching one hand toward them in a futile plea.
“One of the drug dealers’ hired men,” Li Dongchi said, shaking his head. “Let’s go, Officer Chen. If the roads are clear, it’ll still take more than an hour to reach the Emerald Palace.”
Chen Zheng returned to the car. When the door shut, the sounds of that hellish street were sealed out: the screams, the burning, the small explosions. The tactical vehicle’s superior insulation blocked them all. Chen Zheng sighed softly. Ming Han moved closer and leaned against his shoulder again.
“Has the Mobile Unit ever operated somewhere like this before?” Chen Zheng asked quietly, stroking Ming Han’s hand.
Ming Han nodded. “Yes.”
“I see.” Chen Zheng looked out the window.
After a brief silence, Li Gongsheng, seated in front, spoke. “I want to make this place like Jiaoliu City, and make Jiaoliu City like your country.”
Chen Zheng and Ming Han both looked toward the rearview mirror. It reflected Li Gongsheng’s tightly drawn brows and those eyes that never lost their fierce brightness. “That’s why I have to drive out the drug dealers, arms traffickers, and organizations like the Heaven-Measuring Ruler! Only when they’re gone will this place have any chance to develop.”
After a moment, Chen Zheng said, “It will.”
Lightning flashed overhead. A pale bolt split the sky, accompanied by a tremendous shock like an earthquake. Floodwater rushed through the city, carrying blood and filth with it, but washing them away too, as though the city itself were weeping.
A fierce battle was raging on Luli Road. Only three battered armored vehicles remained, firing tongues of flame from their roofs and windows. Rockets streaked across the sky, which hung so low it seemed nearly to touch the earth, striking checkpoints and firing positions along the highway. Explosions followed one another, tearing bodies apart in midair.
Just as the armored vehicles were nearly out of ammunition and unable to advance, an armed helicopter appeared through the rain to the northwest. Its machine gun flashed dazzling gold amid black clouds, and bullets rained like hail upon the devastated land. Under the ferocious barrage, mercenaries fell in swathes like wheat swept down by an autumn wind.
Du Yuelin’s armored vehicle had already left the Emerald Palace. She stared, aghast at the devastation unfolding before her. A few seconds later, she shouted, “Where are our helicopters? Send every one of them out to help!”
Liang Yueze wasn’t the only one with armed helicopters. Almost every criminal organization entrenched in northern Country M had some capacity for aerial attack and reconnaissance.
But her masked subordinate answered, “You sent them out to search for the missing armored vehicles, as you ordered.”
Du Yuelin sucked in a breath. Of course. How had she forgotten? Before dawn, two vehicles had disappeared from Liang Yueze’s convoy amid the chaos. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. Even knowing it might be a trap to shake her troops’ morale, she couldn’t stop wondering whether Liang Yueze was in one of those vehicles. Was he trying to escape, or circle behind her defenses and take her by surprise? After wrestling with the decision, she’d sent three armed helicopters to search for the missing vehicles.
Du Yuelin clenched her teeth. Watching the helicopter fire wildly, a deep red fury burned in her eyes. “Bring me a mortar. I want that thing shot down!”
The masked subordinate hesitated, then complied. Du Yuelin had traded with Country M’s arms dealers for years and had plenty of rockets, but only a limited number of mortars. The helicopter was still clearing a path for the convoy with impunity as the mortar barrel slowly rose toward the sky. A thunderous report rang out. A dragon of flame surged upward and met a sudden bolt of lightning in midair, like two hands tearing and crushing the armed helicopter between them!
An enormous fireball exploded high overhead. Flesh was consumed instantly in the blazing air, and countless fragments scattered from the fireball, trailing violent flames as they fell across the boundless wilderness. Fires sprang up everywhere. Ammunition at the firing positions detonated in a chain reaction. The once-lush highway became a bridge across a sea of fire, sparks constantly raining onto its surface, threatening to bring it down.
The black smoke left by the collapsing fireball reflected in Du Yuelin’s pupils. Her chest heaved, madness glinting in her eyes. Then she opened her mouth and laughed wildly, a piercing sound.
“Liang Yueze! Let’s see how long you can keep acting so arrogant!”