Jing Lan immediately dropped to the ground.
A deafening roar erupted behind him, accompanied by a powerful shockwave that billowed his trench coat, sending something hurtling from within.
A searing white light instantly pierced Jing Lan’s vision.
Clearly, this was no ordinary grenade; it was a flashbang, designed to create a localized explosion that unleashed blinding light, immense noise, and a powerful shockwave in an instant.
Fortunately, Jing Lan had been facing away from the detonating flashbang, his eyes only assaulted by the white light reflecting off the wall.
He quickly regained most of his vision.
As he scrambled to his feet, Jing Lan spotted the object that had been flung from his clothes lying just ahead.
He snatched it up, only to find it was merely a stone.
Puzzled, he wondered if he had grabbed the wrong thing.
Bringing it closer, he finally recognized it as the peculiar, artifact-like stone from the small box Ye Yin Fengqizi had given him.
Though his first instinct was to discard it, the thought that it might hold significance for Ye Yin Fengqizi stayed his hand.
A persistent buzzing echoed in his ears, a lingering effect of the flashbang’s concussive force.
Yet, Jing Lan distinctly felt a faint tremor beneath his feet, a clear signal that enemies were rapidly ascending the stairs.
He spun around immediately, his gaze falling upon a figure who appeared to be clutching a short firearm, its muzzle seemingly leveled directly at him.
‘Damn it! I’m too slow!’
Without a moment to spare, Jing Lan seized the semi-automatic rifle whose strap was still looped around his arm.
Even if he were to fall, he vowed to take at least one enemy with him before his last breath.
Yet, the figure with the gun seemed to be speaking.
“…now…what do I do?”
With his hearing not yet fully restored, Jing Lan couldn’t discern the speaker.
He surmised it was likely Xiao Bingyi, who had been guarding the stairwell.
He found himself astonished by Xiao Bingyi’s unexpected competence, despite his prior experience being limited to shooting balloons.
Not only had he promptly alerted them to the enemy’s grenade, but he had also somehow managed to escape harm himself.
Jing Lan immediately bellowed, “The enemies might be rushing up! If you have a clear shot, aim for the stairs and fire! Take down as many of these Myanmar thugs as you can!”
The figure seemed to acknowledge him with a grunt, then turned and advanced towards the stairwell.
A moment later, a rapid burst of submachine gun fire erupted, followed by the agonizing screams of two men struck by bullets from the floor below.
‘A submachine gun. That must be Long Taobing,’ Jing Lan thought.
He recalled setting the MP9 to semi-automatic, only allowing single shots, when he handed it over.
‘It seems Long Taobing has truly gone berserk, switching it to full-auto.
That’ll drain the ammunition quickly; the thirty rounds in the magazine will be gone in no time, especially since I didn’t give him any extra ammo belts.’
Jing Lan vigorously shook his head, then tucked the small stone back into his pocket.
Just then, two figures approached, offering him support.
As his vision slowly sharpened, he recognized them as the shorter Xiao Bingyi and Jun Zhongding, who wore black-rimmed glasses.
However, the way they looked at him was unsettling, as if there were something amiss on his face.
Feeling a shiver under their peculiar gaze, Jing Lan finally asked, “Where is Long Taobing?”
Xiao Bingyi merely turned his head, indicating the floor with a dip of his chin.
Jing Lan followed his gaze.
Long Taobing lay prostrate on the ground, three bullet holes marring his back, his grey-blue work uniform saturated with blood.
His MP9 submachine gun lay abandoned beside him.
He was unmistakably dead, shot down.
Jing Lan gasped, “Who killed him?”
Neither man offered an immediate reply.
Instead, they continued to fix their gazes on Jing Lan, almost as if they expected *him* to provide the answer.
It was Jun Zhongding who finally broke the silence.
“Comrade,” he began, “do you know anyone among these bandits?”
‘People I know?’ Jing Lan wondered, completely baffled by the question.
Just then, a furious barrage of gunfire erupted from the first floor of the office building—the unmistakable sound of a high-rate-of-fire submachine gun tearing through the air.
“Uncle Han! What the hell are you doing?!” a man shrieked in terror, his cry answered by another deafening burst of gunfire.
Jing Lan’s face contorted in bewilderment.
“Are the enemies fighting each other? Wait, didn’t I just…”
The sight of Long Taobing’s bloody corpse on the floor jolted Jing Lan back to a stark, shocking reality.
‘Didn’t I just tell Long Taobing to go kill the enemies? But he’s already dead, isn’t he?’
Another volley of shots rang out from downstairs, met by the sporadic return fire of a rifle.
However, the wielder of the submachine gun continued their frenzied assault, eventually silencing the rifleman, who had likely fallen in the exchange.
Doubt and profound bewilderment flooded his chest.
Who, exactly, had he just sent downstairs to kill?
‘That girl?’
As this thought crossed his mind, footsteps echoed from the second-floor corridor.
The female staff member, clutching the AK47 Jing Lan had earlier confiscated from a guard, rushed around the corner.
Seeing that the others were still there, she visibly sagged with relief.
“Oh, thank goodness! What’s happening downstairs? Did Brother Long go down to clear them out—”
Her gaze instantly fell upon Long Taobing’s lifeless body on the floor.
Her face twisted in horror, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
The gunfire from downstairs finally ceased.
Though none had witnessed it directly, a chilling realization dawned on them: the bandits on the first floor had likely been entirely slaughtered by that enigmatic submachine gunner.
Afraid to descend, they quickly set about gathering the scattered firearms and ammunition left on the second floor.
Meanwhile, Jun Zhongding recounted to Jing Lan the events he had witnessed.
Having stood further from the stairwell and with his back to the flashbang, Jun Zhongding had been less affected.
He had quickly turned to see a burly man storming up the stairs.
This imposing figure had come face-to-face with Long Taobing, who was just returning from his assault, and with a swift spray of bullets, had cut him down.
The burly man had then turned, his gaze landing on Jing Lan, who was just getting to his feet.
He had seemed poised to fire in the very next second, but then, his entire body had suddenly stiffened.
He mumbled something incomprehensible to Jing Lan, as if asking what to do.
Suspecting that Jing Lan might have an acquaintance among the bandits, Jun Zhongding had refrained from raising his weapon at the large man.
Then, Jing Lan had instructed him to eliminate the Myanmar thugs, and the burly man had descended the stairs.
“So he’s not your relative?” Xiao Bingyi exclaimed, clearly taken aback by Jun Zhongding’s account.
Having been disoriented by the full impact of the flashbang, he had naturally missed the exchange between Jing Lan and the submachine gunner.
Jun Zhongding continued, “That massive man didn’t look like any relative of his! His face was pale, his hair dyed white and grown long, pulled back into a ponytail.
If not for his distinctly East Asian features, I would have sworn he’d stepped right out of *The Witcher 3*.”
Jing Lan explained that, due to his blurred vision, he had mistakenly assumed the figure was either Xiao Bingyi or Long Taobing, unable to clearly identify the newcomer.
The girl with the AK offered a theory.
“Then there’s only one possibility.
“That formidable man must have mistaken you, comrade, for someone he knew,” she proposed.
“Perhaps you bear such a striking resemblance to his son that he momentarily lost his senses.”
Xiao Bingyi promptly chimed in, “Exactly! You probably reminded him too much of his deceased son!
You know, these Myanmar folks are Buddhists, with a strong undercurrent of idealism.
Being startled like that, he must have completely lost his mind, believing his son had risen from the dead!”
Jun Zhongding sighed, “Little Xiao simply adores supernatural novels.”
For now, none dared to venture downstairs.
Even if the girl’s theory proved correct, who could guarantee that the formidable man wouldn’t suddenly regain his senses and turn his weapon back on them?
Just then, a phone began to ring downstairs, its insistent tone echoing for a considerable time without an answer.
Soon after, several more phones began to chime from below, each ringing unanswered.
Jun Zhongding mused aloud, “It appears the bandits’ associates have realized something is amiss.
With all calls going unanswered, there’s a good chance they’ll return swiftly.”
“Yes,” affirmed the courageous girl, who introduced herself as Lü Shengji, a dispatcher from the granary.
“When we saw Section Chief Wang being… earlier, they made calls.
It seems they still have a main force; these dozen or so bandits here are likely just a small detachment.
We need to act quickly, young man.
You You must be from a survivor camp, correct?”
Jing Lan offered an exceedingly brief account of his experiences over the past few days.
“Excellent,” Lü Shengji responded.
“There’s a grain truck out there, carrying about ten tons of rice.
Old Zhao, the driver, is upstairs; he’s injured, but he has the keys.
We’ll help you transport a truckload of grain to your camp, and then we’ll join your group.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“Let’s do it!”
They needed to descend immediately; there was no time for delay.
Yet, the murderous behemoth still lurked downstairs.
If they descended, they risked being annihilated by his submachine gun.