Chapter Nine: Kill Them All

“What’s going on?” Yang Xiaolin crawled to Gu Tianming’s side. In this narrow stretch of land, over a hundred men lay pinned down by the relentless fire of a single machine gun, unable to move.

Gu Tianming’s voice was heavy with discouragement. “That bastard is too fierce! We can’t break through!”

Yang Xiaolin was vexed; he hadn’t been able to gather any information about the situation inside Ganzi Tun ahead of time, and now they had no choice but to face this hard wall. “Can’t break through? If we don’t, we’ll all die here! Spread out, everyone charge forward together, and don’t stop for anything!”

Gu Tianming considered it. “Can’t we wait a little longer? Let’s rush in when he reloads. The distance isn’t far—just a few steps and we’re through.”

Yang Xiaolin was furious. “We can’t wait! It’s only five or six miles from Fengtian City to here. If the Qing soldiers arrive, we’re finished! Charge! Even if we all die, we have to charge!”

Gu Tianming’s lips trembled. Beside him, Liu Xianhe had clearly resigned himself to death, standing up first. “If you’re men, follow me!”

He barely managed a few steps before a bullet struck his calf. He staggered, but forced himself not to fall, fired a shot ahead, and pushed on.

Yang Xiaolin spat on the ground, said nothing more, picked up his rifle, and shouted to the brothers behind him, “If you want to live, follow me and fight your way up!”

Seeing the two of them leading the charge, the rest hesitated no longer. Charge—if you die, you’re freed early; if you live, the suffering continues.

The gunfire here had already reached Fengtian City. The magistrate listened, stunned at first, then fearfully asked, “Those Russians aren’t going to slaughter all those women, are they?”

Zhao Yansun, now a battalion commander, cocked his ear to listen. “Doesn’t sound like it. It seems there’s a battle going on.”

The magistrate sneered, “A battle? With whom?”

Zhao Yansun couldn’t answer, and thought for a moment, “Maybe they’re drunk and firing for fun. But that can’t be—who fires so fiercely just for amusement?”

The magistrate’s brows furrowed as he pointed at Zhao Yansun. “Take a group outside the city and see. If something really happens, we won’t be able to handle it.”

Zhao Yansun was reluctant, but the magistrate glared at him until he half-knelt, dragging his long braid. “Yes, sir!”

In Yang Xiaolin’s calculations, it was certain the Qing army would respond to the commotion; this was an uncontrollable factor. He only had two hundred men, all of whom had to be committed to Ganzi Tun—he couldn’t spare dozens outside to intercept the Qing soldiers. Even if he did, the disparity in strength meant it wouldn’t make much difference.

He could only hope the Qing troops would move slowly, slower still, and give him more time. Zhao Yansun was unwittingly cooperating with Yang Xiaolin’s plans; these Qing soldiers had little combat spirit to begin with, and upon hearing they had to investigate what the Russians were up to, they dawdled, even taking their time to dress.

They had just arrived in Fengtian, unfamiliar with each other, making the organization of the troops difficult. It took half an hour just to assemble a thousand men, open the city gates, and stroll leisurely toward Ganzi Tun as if on a promenade.

Zhao Yansun hoped nothing had happened—perhaps the Russians were simply firing for fun, or at worst, killing the women, which didn’t concern him. As long as everything stopped before his force reached Ganzi Tun, the magistrate could handle negotiations afterward.

With that mindset, their progress was slow, giving Yang Xiaolin ample time.

The brick-walled compound was finally taken. The dozens of Russian soldiers defending inside scattered and fled; the rest was just a matter of pursuit. Along the way, over thirty bodies lay strewn—escort masters, hunters, and Yang Xiaolin’s own brothers.

Liu Xianhe had been hit three times, one bullet lodged in his abdomen. He now lay pale on the ground, eyes fixed on Yang Xiaolin. “Brother Yang, avenge my father!”

Yang Xiaolin’s lips quivered twice and he nodded. “Don’t worry, Xianhe, I’ve already taken Liu’s head. Stop dwelling on it; rest now.”

Tears welled in Liu Xianhe’s eyes, but he said no more.

The battle in the main hall was nearing its end. The Russians resisted for a while, pushing up against the longest table, crouching behind it and exchanging fire with Jin Dadao’s men. Over twenty of Jin’s brothers had fallen, but as the fight wore on, the Russians’ guns ran dry.

Their resistance was almost negligible now. Jin Dadao stood slowly, fired a shot at the tabletop. “Come out!”

Bullets splintered the wood, but the Russians behind the table neither showed themselves nor returned fire. This emboldened the bandits, who lined up and pressed forward, guns blazing.

Biaozi and his group stood up behind Jin Dadao, feeling an exhilarating rush. “Come out! Damn it, weren’t you hunting me in Changbai Mountain? Here I am, come out!”

They quickly reached the center of the hall. Jin Dadao suddenly remembered something and grabbed Biaozi, signaling for the bandits to hold their positions and keep their guns trained on the long table, ready for any heads to appear. His eyes scanned the sides swiftly.

The women abducted by the Russians shivered nearby. Apart from a few who had been killed in the crossfire, most were unharmed. Jin Dadao barked, “What are you women doing here? Get out!”

The quicker ones scrambled to pick up clothes from the floor, not caring if they belonged to them, hastily covering themselves and fleeing. The woman who had clung to Jin Dadao’s leg earlier approached him and suddenly knelt. “Thank you, brother! Thank you, boss!”

Her gratitude was sincere, filling Jin Dadao with an unfamiliar warmth and a sense of accomplishment. He hurriedly helped her up. “Sister, this isn’t the time for thanks—get out of this room!”

The woman stood. Just then, she saw Chet Brov, who had been lying on the ground, slowly raising his pistol, aiming it at Jin Dadao. Without hesitation, she dropped her covering clothes and threw herself around Jin Dadao. “Watch out!”

Jin Dadao froze. He’d had many women, some whose faces he couldn’t recall, all taken by force. This was the first time he’d encountered such a scene, and for an instant his mind went blank. Then came the sound of a gunshot.

Blood trickled from the woman’s mouth. Jin Dadao turned and saw Chet Brov struggling to rise. He understood immediately, catching the woman’s limp body. “Sister! Sister!”

A faint smile lingered on the woman’s face, but she could not answer him.

Biaozi had already fired a shot into Chet Brov’s head, splattering it like pulp. Jin Dadao felt the woman’s body stiffen in his arms, and rage overwhelmed him.

“Kill! Slaughter them all!” (Happy Valentine’s Day, brothers!)