Chapter 102: Chapter 53: An Unprecedented Encounter

Zhao Hai Zhen and the others never imagined this kind of scene even in their dreams!

They had only heard of the legend of the Hidden Moth but had never seen the abilities of the Hidden Moth with their own eyes. Recently, except for the disappearance of Liang Kai, there was no other reaction from the Hidden Moth.

Even dealing with a single Liang Kai, judging by the scene, the Hidden Moth also acted secretly, launching a stealth attack when he was unprepared… They somewhat underestimated the Hidden Moth from the bottom of their hearts.

It’s also because the public security in the Eastern Country is too good—normally, even the appearance of a single handgun is considered a major case by the local police.

When He Kao seemed to be talking nonsense in a dream, he mentioned that the intruder had a gun, forcing the police to take it seriously. Not only did they check the surveillance of the apartments, but they also conducted a screening investigation of the residents of all three floors.

As for submachine guns, they were something only seen in foreign gangster films… but today, they witnessed them.

Less than two minutes after He Kao got off the phone, they continued questioning for a few more sentences and hadn’t even had time to notify the ambushers at Sanxi Bridge to prepare when they themselves encountered an assault!

Another unexpected thing was, how did the others find this place?

Submachine guns, the light weapon for trench and street battles, although they use pistol bullets, have a much longer range and more power than a handgun, capable of firing a dozen rounds in a second.

The magazine of this gun has a capacity of thirty rounds. If the shooter lacks experience, it’s easy to grip the trigger too tightly in a panic and empty the magazine in less than three seconds.

In the peaceful era of the Eastern Country, very few people have experienced the feeling of being shot. For a submachine gun, when the bullet initially hits the body, there’s not much sensation; it feels more like being pushed or pricked by something.

The autonomic nervous response is faster than consciousness; the muscles at the impact site contract instantly. If hit in a place like a leg, it can cause motor dysfunction, as if suddenly not responding to commands.

Pain and weakness only appear after a few seconds, and if hit in the back, a person can often still run a few more steps.

The masked man faced this pedestrian street, barely needing to aim as he shot. The dozen hostages were running toward the lobby, and the people at the back were blocking those ahead.

So, although the submachine gun made a lot of noise, he actually only hit four out of the twelve kidnappers.

It’s not entirely his marksmanship at fault; although the muzzle did rise later, and the trajectory went over their heads, the group’s reaction was too quick. Less than half a second after the gunfire, only three people were left in the corridor.

These three had all been shot, with Xiaotao running behind, taking several shots to the body as cover for his comrades. One shot hit the back of his head, ending him instantly.

Not all of the kidnappers were cultivators; aside from Old Hong and his followers, Xiaotao was an ordinary person. He was Zhao Hai Zhen’s attendant and wanted to learn techniques from Zhao Hai Zhen, willing to work for him even before reaching the entry level.

Today, he really did sell his life.

The other two were seriously injured, unable to stand, clearly not going to survive. Another person was also shot but managed to dodge into a nearby shop just in time.

The ones who moved quickly in front had reached the lobby, and upon hearing the noise, they sidestepped to dodge the bullets. Those still on the pedestrian street also promptly ducked into empty shop doors on both sides.

While the gunfire continued, none dared to show their heads… The masked man did indeed empty his magazine; it seems he wasn’t a seasoned veteran with combat experience.

As soon as the gunfire stopped, a knife flew out from a shop at the end of the corridor. A nearly foot-long outdoor camping machete curved in a slight arc in mid-air, spinning toward the masked man.

The masked man had two guns, both with shoulder straps, slung diagonally over his shoulders. He raised the submachine gun with the emptied magazine as if to take it off and throw it, and in the darkness, the flying knife hit the body of the gun.

The force was enough to chip a part off the gun, dislodging some parts. The submachine gun was shaken out of his grip, and the masked man staggered back two steps.

He Kao was separated from the masked man by just one wall when he shouted, “Nine o’clock direction!”

The so-called nine o’clock direction was directly to the left.

He recalled the summer after the college entrance exams, waiting to attend university after receiving the admission letter—it was the most carefree time of He Kao’s life—going out every day with no one to answer to.

Back then, Joy Valley hadn’t closed yet. There was a field in the forested slope at the foot of Bai Ma Mountain within the park, serving as a CS real-life combat game area.

They used imitation guns there, shooting paint bullets while wearing combat gear and goggles provided by the amusement park.

Next to the real-life combat area was a live ammunition shooting range, but the range only had handguns, each chained to the shooting table, making them unremovable.

Customers were closely monitored while shooting, not allowed to load bullets or manipulate the safety switch themselves, only permitted to pull the trigger at the target.

Customers had to purchase bullets for shooting; each bullet cost twenty yuan, with a magazine of ten bullets minimum for sale—at least two hundred yuan for a session. He Kao didn’t care to spend on it, but Xiaopang once splurged four hundred yuan to treat him, and they both fired ten rounds each.

As for the CS real-life combat game, their graduating class went several times as a group. Every time, He Kao teamed up with Xiaopang as a tactical unit, their collaboration seeming somewhat decent enough, responding promptly to each other’s calls.

The masked man stepped back two steps at this moment to the back hall beyond the end of the pedestrian street, which was the connector between two indoor pedestrian streets, reacting to the sound.

He turned his body to the left, swiftly pulling the other gun from his waistband and firing it immediately.

The echo of the gunshot was deafening, louder than a submachine gun, and in the darkness, someone who was lunging forward fell to the ground.

He Kao’s extraordinary perception ability needed the aid of environmental sounds to perceive things in space more clearly. However, when the noise was too loud and chaotic, it could also confuse and interfere with perception.

When the submachine gun fired continuously earlier, He Kao’s perception of the outside was chaotic and noisy as well. But once the gunfire stopped, he suddenly noticed someone circling around from another pedestrian street, moving quickly and lightly like a lynx.

The two pedestrian streets were connected, and that person was clearly trying to intercept the masked figure’s retreat, most likely holding a weapon in hand.

Besides knives, the assailants also had guns, but they only had two pistols and barely any ability to retaliate against submachine guns. In the dark, no one dared to show their heads to return fire amidst the random bullet spraying.

Zhao Hai Zhen had one gun, and the other was in this person’s hand. Unfortunately, they didn’t even have a chance to fire before being taken down by the masked figure.

The masked person’s second gun was surprisingly a shotgun, commonly known as a “boomstick,” which shot a flurry of steel pellets. Hastily fired, it might not have precise aim, but at such a short distance, precision wasn’t necessary—just pointing the gun barrel in the right direction was enough.

The immense recoil caused the gun to spin out of the masked person’s grip, and the stock nearly hit the back of his head. However, the gun didn’t fly off because it was slung across his shoulder, and he quickly retrieved it.

Immediately, he twisted his body and fired another shot toward the pedestrian direction. Someone over there, just about to pop their head up, was scared back by the gunshot.

Who would dare gamble that the fearsome boomstick would miss?

The masked person, imposing after these two shots, then returned to his previous position, not sure why he paused and suddenly took off, escaping through a window in the nearby office.

Almost at the same time, another brick flew through the darkness. If the masked person had stayed put, it would have broken his bones, but fortunately, it missed.

The assailants were also taken aback, thinking he was going to flank them from outside the building, and all quickly moved to places not vulnerable to gunfire through the windows, finding spots to hide.

But after waiting for a while with no sign of any movement, it became a terrifying sensation for those unaccustomed, not knowing where the gunman was, leaving everyone scared to move.

But the assailants were not ordinary people. In the darkness, Zhao Hai Zhen said something that He Kao couldn’t quite hear, and those who hadn’t been shot all rushed out of hiding and jumped out the window in pursuit.

By this time, the corridor outside was empty. He Kao quickly took off, running as quietly as he could. He was only wearing socks and stepped on a few still-warm bullet casings, and some unknown debris dug painfully into his soles.

Unable to care about these minor injuries, every movement felt like an instinctive reflex or something he’d rehearsed in his mind countless times. He first ran towards the nearest back room, where a gun-hit assailant lay.

He Kao found a gun in the assailant’s hand, put on the assailant’s shoes, and found a phone in their pocket, stuffing it into his own.

That’s when he heard urgent footsteps—someone was coming back.

He Kao was tense, his heart pounding in his throat. In such a situation, his perception couldn’t be clear; he didn’t know who was coming, so he quickly ran back to the room.

Gao Xue’e was still on the chair, trembling as she asked, “What’s going on, is someone here to rescue us?”

He Kao whispered, “Yes, don’t move or speak!”

The footsteps grew closer, He Kao returned to the chair, holding his gun pointed at the door, a nine-millimeter pistol with the safety off.

He Kao had only fired a handgun once before, but the memory was vivid. This gun was similar to the one he’d used at the shooting range. Although he didn’t personally operate the safety switch then, He Kao had watched the staff’s demonstration closely.

He wanted to rely on his perception ability, but at this moment, he couldn’t find his state of mind, uncertain if the person outside was friend or foe.

The person finally reached the doorway, and by the faint light from the window of the opposite room, He Kao saw the silhouette and recognized them instantly—it was the woman who earlier poured water on Gao Xue’e and held a knife to her cheek.

He Kao immediately fired, five shots in total, with the first three hitting the target. The last two shots broke the window of the room opposite. It wasn’t that his aim was off; at such a close range, missing was unlikely—the target had already fallen out the door.

He Kao mechanically pulled the trigger, failing quite to react, firing twice more toward the door. Had she not fallen, he might have emptied the magazine.

The female assailant never expected He Kao to have a gun nor to fire it. At the moment she stepped in, hemmed in by the door frame on either side, she couldn’t dodge or react in time.

After being shot in the chest by the first bullet, she couldn’t make evasion moves, dropping her knife as she stumbled backward, struck thrice before collapsing, making strange sounds in her throat.

The room echoed with the sound of shell casings hitting the floor. Gao Xue’e instinctively wanted to scream, but she suppressed it, choked sounds involuntarily escaping as if she’d been shot as well.

Adrenaline surged in He Kao’s system, his head buzzing, nearly unable to form clear thoughts, acting almost on autopilot from scenarios he had pre-visualized.

He quickly stood up, turned on his cell phone’s flashlight to pick up the knife, and cut Gao Xue’e free from her restraints, his hands unsteady, then took the shoes off the female assailant and handed them over, “President E, put these on quickly, we need to move!”

**

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