Chapter 1593 - The Backup Plan

Zhuo Yifan mingled with the crowd, walking toward the riverside gymnasium. He wore old clothes procured by Sima Qiudao and sported a fake mustache, looking every bit the down-and-out scholar. He carried no long weapons—only darts hidden in his sleeves and a short dagger at his waist. Three male disciples, disguised as peddlers and porters, followed at a distance, their bodies bristling with concealed weapons.

He'd been less than twenty zhang from Zhou Zhongjun when she was exposed. The moment police moved to arrest them, he'd already turned and begun walking out of the square.

The plan to strike in the square had failed. So even though the disciple responsible for signaling fired the "Rising Promotion Cannon" desperately, Zhuo Yifan didn't attack. Instead, he slipped quickly out with the flow of people.

From the beginning, he'd known the chances of successfully attacking the Hair Thieves near the gymnasium weren't great. But the Hair Thieves' internal and external defenses were impregnable, and opportunities were scarce, forcing him to take the risk.

Still, he and Sima Qiudao had estimated the odds of this approach again and again—fifty-fifty at best. Even if Zhou Zhongjun and the others could use Hair Thief clothing to bluff their way close to the Real Kuns before acting, the martial prowess of those few female warriors might not be sufficient to succeed in a single blow.

Therefore, based on intelligence provided by Seventh Master, he'd prepared a backup strategy.

Seventh Master had supplied the route of the Hair Thieves' "musicians," along with a hint that several Real Kun leaders would be among them. The intelligence was remarkably detailed: not only the specific route, but the convoy's size, roughly how many guards to expect, and the number of "Fake Kun musicians" traveling in the public carriages.

Compared to the square, the guard force along the movement route wouldn't be particularly large. The chances of a successful ambush were significantly higher.

Once the square assassination failed, various agencies would mobilize, drawing Hair Thief alert forces toward the gymnasium. Combined with diversionary actions at East Gate Market and the inn, the attention of Hair Thief government offices would be scattered. By striking where they were unprepared, he calculated a sixty to seventy percent chance of hitting the target in a single blow.

Now that Zhou Zhongjun and the others had been discovered and captured, he immediately broke away from the gymnasium area with his core disciples. As they walked, gunfire sounded in the distance. He observed that Hair Thief police and soldiers on the streets had multiplied dramatically. Black-uniformed police on two-wheeled vehicles careened through the streets, and black-and-white carriages rushed toward the gymnasium and Qiongan Inn. Roadblocks were being erected at major intersections to check pedestrians; barrier gates at side streets and alleys were closing. Rumors bred panic along the way, and every step kept them on edge. The group mingled with the crowds and barely escaped the gymnasium vicinity before martial law clamped down.

By now, few people remained on the streets. Pedestrians hurried past, shops shuttered one after another, and the streets grew desolate. The distant gunfire had ceased. Zhuo Yifan led his junior brothers onward at a quickened pace. Though he tried to conceal it, tears had already spilled from his eyes.

Though he'd written off Zhou Zhongjun and the others as expendable pieces, knowing they were trapped in the Hair Thieves' heavy siege meant they were almost certainly doomed. Most of them were strangers to him, yet the thought that they might now be dead—or being escorted to Hair Thief prisons to suffer torments worse than death—filled his chest with grief and rage.

Even if it cost him his life, he would kill some Real Kuns today!

But as soon as the pedestrians thinned, they realized a "tail" was following them. Zhuo Yifan's nerves instantly tightened: Have the Hair Thieves marked us?

He grew secretly anxious and glanced back discreetly. More than ten plainclothes operatives trailed close behind. He immediately turned and signaled to the junior brothers. Without hesitation, all four walked briskly off the main road, climbed the Wenlan River embankment, leaped, and plunged into the rolling current.

The opportunity to ambush the Hair Thief convoy was precious, but the enemy had obviously spotted them. Escape took priority. He made the decisive call: "Of the thirty-six stratagems, retreat is best."

Fifty meters behind, a naturalized citizen plainclothes policeman stood dumbfounded for a moment before yanking out his whistle and blowing frantically.

The officers who'd been tracking this group of "disguised saboteurs" quickly converged, but they had no boats. One man sprinted back to report while the rest searched along the riverbank.

"The thieves may swim across to escape! Find a boat to cross the river!" A naturalized citizen police officer shouted. "Quickly—notify the Water Police!"

Zhuo Yifan held a reed tube in his mouth and submerged. After entering the water, the four didn't swim across—instead, they turned and drifted downstream with the current.

The "Scenic Belt" along the Wenlan River had been built atop the river embankment. On one side ran a thoroughfare; on the other, flowers and trees had been planted for their beauty. At this moment, the Art Troupe convoy was moving close to the embankment, the wheels periodically crushing roadside flowers and plants—rather landscape-spoiling. But the accompanying Senators had no mood to consider such matters.

After turning around, the dense gunfire from behind and the smoke rising above the square delivered an unmistakable message: the enemy had launched an attack right in the heart of Senate rule—Lingao itself.

This served as a somewhat jarring reminder that their lives had become too comfortable.

"Treating a foreign land as one's hometown." The phrase burst unbidden into Dongfang Ke's mind.

Here, they still inhabited the dangerous space-time of the seventeenth century. Enemies glared like tigers from all sides, poised to tear them apart at any moment.

Dongfang Ke unconsciously tightened his grip on his pistol. He crouched on the seat by the door. Okamoto and Nan Gonghao sat on the opposite side. Since these two had virtually no pistol experience, two additional pistols were positioned there as insurance.

Liu Shuixin, the only woman in the carriage, sat on the floor in the center, silent.

The guard soldiers marching on foot had spread into a "right echelon" formation on the road, primarily protecting the road while covering the Senators' carriages below the embankment on the river side. To compensate for the gap toward the river embankment, he'd ordered the accompanying guards back into the carriages, their weapons aimed toward the embankment. At the rear came the guard captain, maintaining watch. He'd fired warning shots several times to disperse the crowds. Now the convoy had left the hotspot and slightly increased speed.

In the public carriages sat naturalized citizen musicians gathered from old opera troupes. Contrary to Head Okamoto's concerns, they were nothing like the frail "art workers" of the old timeline. These Ming Dynasty musicians, seasoned by years traveling the Jianghu, seemed to possess an instinctive adaptability to danger and chaos. They sat peacefully in their seats. Though their expressions showed fear, no one lost control or moved about randomly.

Four heads broke the water's surface in succession, climbing onto the lower edge of the embankment from the river beach. Zhuo Yifan and his group. Though they didn't understand what had gone wrong, their prompt escape had temporarily preserved their lives. The four remained shaken. They were about to leap back into the river when Zhuo Yifan stopped them.

"Don't panic. We're already far from the gymnasium. There's no one around. Rest here briefly, wait for the people and horses ahead to pass, then we'll plan our next move."

The group scattered and lay flat in the bushes. Zhuo Yifan stared intently at the situation on the road. Suddenly, something caught his attention.

"Two four-wheeled public carriages, one smaller four-wheeled carriage, one four-wheeled cargo wagon, soldiers guarding the flanks... Isn't this the convoy from the intelligence report!" Zhuo Yifan whispered excitedly. This group of Hair Thieves must have turned back from the gymnasium direction, presumably spooked by the chaos and anxious to retreat to Bairen City—only to run into them here.

"Coming early isn't as good as coming at the right time! Today we will exterminate you Hair Thieves who use barbarians to transform China!" He immediately crawled to his companions and told them what he'd discovered.

After a brief exchange, however, the four identified significant difficulties. The convoy was gradually approaching, and the figures of the accompanying soldiers on the road were becoming clearer. At a glance—at least ten. The enemy outnumbered them, and the Australian firearms were devastatingly effective. A direct confrontation offered little chance of success.

Originally, he'd planned to prepare the road in advance, but now the entire operation was in disarray. They could only act in haste.

"Right now, we have no choice but to take a desperate gamble," Zhuo Yifan said slowly. "These Hair Thieves are all in carriages. Horses are easily spooked. Junior Brother Zhao—are your Rising Promotion Cannons still usable?"

"The cannons are still here," Junior Brother Zhao pulled a bamboo tube from beneath his clothes. "The wax seal is intact. Should still work."

"I have one too." Another disciple produced one as well.

"Good. This is the Lei family's special Three-Sound Thunderclap Cannon—the most powerful we have. Since we can't use it for signaling, we'll use it to stampede the horses!" Zhuo Yifan said. "The Hair Thieves have four carriages total. The first and second are large ones, carrying the musicians. The last one carries instruments and baggage. The Real Kuns are all in the third carriage."

He laid out the situation, then assigned tasks: "Junior Brother Zhao, position yourself on the river embankment. Shell the first carriage first, then the fourth. Both are heavily loaded—once the horses panic, those carriages will overturn immediately, trapping the Hair Thieves' carriage in between. Junior Brother Lu, your hidden weapon skills are the finest among us. The moment the Rising Promotion Cannon sounds, rush in and shoot the horses pulling the Real Kuns' carriage. Junior Brother Wu, follow me for the direct assault."

At this point, Junior Brother Zhao raised an objection:

"Senior Brother, the Hair Thieves' team has been firing guns along the way. Their horses are likely warhorses or the equivalent—trained not to fear firearms..."

"This Rising Promotion Cannon has a heavy powder charge. Even if you miss the horse, landing it near enough should still spook them." He pointed to the nearby terrain. "Look—the Hair Thief soldiers are all on the main road. The river embankment side is blocked by the carriages, making it hard for their firearms to hit us. We have a sixty to seventy percent chance of success. Hit or miss, we retreat immediately after striking—roll straight down the embankment and into the water." Zhuo Yifan assembled this plan in desperation, overlooking many rash elements.

The men he'd brought were close disciples of his sect—all from good families. Though young, their martial arts and learning were all commendable. More importantly, they possessed sincere hearts, valuing righteousness over life. At this moment, they simply accepted the orders and pledged themselves to the task.