Chapter 112: Bombardment

At night, a crescent moon hung high in the sky. Under the water-like moonlight, the night was hazy and filled with a sense of mystery.

It was past nine in the evening when Li Wensheng, who had been resting with his eyes closed in a chair, opened his eyes. Glancing at Wang Feng, who was sleeping with his head on the table, Li Wensheng walked over and nudged him gently.

Wang Feng was now like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring; at the touch, he jolted awake, his right hand immediately grabbing the kitchen knife on the table. Seeing that nothing was amiss, he let out a sigh of relief.

"I’m leaving. Lock the door."

"Understood," Wang Feng replied, rising to follow Li Wensheng toward the courtyard gate. As soon as Li Wensheng stepped out, Wang Feng shut the door.

The Central and Northern districts of the Concession were under martial law. Many dance halls remained closed that night, and ordinary citizens had retreated home early, not daring to make a sound, leaving the streets exceptionally quiet. With few pedestrians about, Li Wensheng had to stick to the narrow alleyways. After several turns, he finally arrived near the Hongkou checkpoint at eleven o'clock that night.

Earlier that day, an explosion had occurred near the checkpoint. The military police realized afterward that the perpetrator had used the blast to draw guards away so he could slip through. Convinced the culprit had not yet escaped and was desperate to do so, they had reinforced the checkpoint. While only a dozen or so military police remained at the post itself, a small encampment had been erected on the adjacent vacant lot, housing four tents filled with an unknown number of soldiers.

Li Wensheng was not afraid of the increased numbers; his only concern was the possibility of civilians waiting in line. Fortunately, there were none at such a late hour. Relying on a large tree by the Suzhou Creek as cover, he raised his binoculars to observe the checkpoint three hundred meters away.

After a moment, he lowered the binoculars, slipped into the narrow gap between two buildings, and pulled a set of clothes from his system space to change into. Moments later, Li Wensheng emerged wearing a hooded raincoat, a face mask, and gloves. Dressed entirely in black, this strange attire made him look like a phantom of a rainy night—and had it actually been raining, the atmosphere would have only deepened the comparison.

He hugged the wall and moved about ten meters toward the checkpoint, stopping only when he reached a spot free of large trees. Looking around to ensure he was unobserved, he instantly drew an 80mm mortar from his system space. He crouched down, placed three shells within reach, and began adjusting the base plate. While the lack of trees made the adjustment easier, it also left him dangerously exposed.

As he adjusted the mortar, a sentry at the checkpoint spotted him. The soldier could hardly believe his eyes, wondering how a mortar could possibly be there. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating—and then, his jaw dropped in astonishment.

After a stunned moment, he shrieked in terror, "Enemy attack!"

Before the words had even faded, a roar erupted as the shell landed. He and the dozen military police nearby were instantly obliterated. The explosion woke countless people; soldiers in the camp scrambled to their feet, while nearby residents woke in a panic, covering their heads with blankets and trembling in fear.

Across the Suzhou Creek, in the bustling heart of the Concession, many people rushed to their windows to look out. Unfortunately, the hazy moonlight and the trees along the river obscured their view of Li Wensheng. They saw only a thunderous blast tear through the military encampment by the checkpoint. As the echoes subsided, another roar followed, and the already ruined camp was struck again.

Once the two shells were spent, Li Wensheng immediately retracted the mortar into his system space, drew two pistols, and charged toward the checkpoint, firing with both hands.

*Bang, bang, bang...*

The sentries at the checkpoint had been wiped out by the initial strike, but the soldiers in the camp had been more dispersed. Even after two shells, a dozen remained. By the time Li Wensheng reached the checkpoint, they had recovered their wits and were firing back from the camp entrance. Li Wensheng darted forward and dove behind a steel girder on the Waibaidu Bridge. Bullets pinged off the metal, sending sparks flying.

He waited for two seconds, and as the soldiers paused to eject their spent casings, he flashed out, firing both pistols at once. In the blink of an eye, the magazines were empty. Drenched in sweat, Li Wensheng ducked back behind the girder.

*Bang, bang, bang...*

Bullets peppered the steel again. Under normal circumstances, Li Wensheng’s marksmanship would have been enough to finish off the remaining soldiers with two magazines. But his right hand was injured, a bullet fragment still lodged against the bone, causing constant, searing agony. The recoil of the pistols had been so painful he had nearly dropped the weapons. His left hand, though in better shape, was not much better; by the end of the magazine, his hand had begun to shake. These injuries had limited his success to only seven or eight soldiers.

Taking a few deep breaths to suppress the pain, Li Wensheng holstered the two pistols and reached behind his back—actually drawing a fresh, loaded pistol from his system space. After a few seconds, when the gunfire died down, he surged out again and fired at the soldiers, most of whom were busy reloading.

Seeing that he hadn't immediately reappeared after his second retreat, the soldiers had begun advancing from the camp toward the bridge, firing as they came. With no cover between the camp and the bridge, they were completely exposed.

*Bang, bang, bang...*

Exposed as they were, even with his shaking hands, Li Wensheng emptied a single magazine and took them all down.

"Hiss!"

Drenched in cold sweat, Li Wensheng gasped as his face twisted in pain. The agony in his left arm told him that his already reopened wound was bleeding profusely. At the same time, a sharp, piercing pain shot through his right shoulder.

The soldiers hadn't been mere targets; they had fought back. Just as he was firing, he had felt a surge of danger. To finish them quickly and prevent reinforcements from arriving, he had only managed to shift half a step, taking a bullet in the right shoulder. Fortunately, this time, the bullet hadn't lodged in the bone. With his current physical constitution, it wouldn't hinder him much in the short term.

Having dealt with the soldiers, Li Wensheng turned and headed toward the Central District of the Concession. He did not run, but walked with a steady, quickened pace. He wanted to run, but he could not; too many people were watching him, especially those staring from the windows across the Suzhou Creek.

When he had been in Jinling, someone had photographed him in his raincoat and mask. Now, appearing in this outfit after a mortar strike, anyone could guess that he was the "Lone Ranger" who had assassinated Emperor Hirohito.

On his journey from Shancheng to Magic City, he had heard many common folk whispering about the "Lone Ranger." At first, he had grumbled to himself about who the hell had given him such a cringeworthy nickname. But as he walked and listened to the discussions, he realized the hope in the eyes of those who spoke of the "Lone Ranger."

He understood then that the title had become a pillar of strength for many people's future. "Look, even the enemy's Emperor Hirohito died at the hands of the Lone Ranger. We will definitely win this war."

Because of this figure, many found hope for the future. If he were to appear broken or pathetic, it would be a devastating blow to them. That was why he had pushed through the pain of his injuries to finish off those soldiers. He could have easily sprinted across the Waibaidu Bridge—the soldiers would never have caught him—but he had to maintain his composure in the public eye. He could never let the people lose faith in the "Lone Ranger."