Chapter 34: Every Shot Counts

“That’s the Xuanzhu boat,” Ran Yao said, pointing to a flower boat on the embankment through the bamboo curtain.

Lin Shenhe raised his binoculars, slowly adjusting the focus. The sky outside was beginning to darken, the light soft. It was perfect weather.

They were in a restaurant at White Goose Pool. The day before, men from the escort agency had booked a private room on the third and highest floor. Ran Yao and Bei Wei had conducted a full day of uninterrupted observation from here, getting a clear picture of the entire situation.

The kidnappers had chosen their hiding spot with some skill. The Hezi Embankment was the outermost embankment at White Goose Pool, and the Xuanzhu was moored at its very end. A simple push of the oar would take them into the wide expanse of the Pearl River. It was convenient for boarding and disembarking, easy to avoid prying eyes, and offered a quick escape route.

During their reconnaissance, they had also discovered that the group had two additional lookouts nearby. One was on a small boat selling congee, moored at the adjacent Renzi Embankment. The other was a medicine seller on the shore.

On the flower boat itself, there were supposed to be two men on guard: one stationed permanently on the high rear deck, and another who moved around the boat—the bouncer, as the Qiwei Escort Agency had informed Ran Yao.

Lin Shenhe focused his binoculars, observing the slope below and calculating the shooting distance. From his position to the end of the embankment was about one hundred meters. The Xuanzhu was moored far from the other flower boats, standing somewhat isolated. This was likely a security perimeter the bandits had intentionally created for secrecy. Unfortunately for them, it gave him a clear line of sight. If it had been moored alongside the other boats, he would have had difficulty seeing any movement on board.

Is Director Wen really on that flower boat? he wondered. Is he enjoying the tender comforts of a brothel, or is he being brutally tortured? It’s hard to say.

He mentally ticked off the targets he would be “taking care of.” They were all dark, skinny men—he hadn’t seen a single fat person since arriving in this era. The assault team had repeatedly studied their photos before the mission and knew them by heart, including the madam and the prostitutes.

If the women showed any sign of unusual activity, they were to be eliminated as well. Bei Wei had specifically instructed him on this, even citing examples of female Vietnamese special agents from the Sino-Vietnamese War as a lesson.

What quarrel do I have with them? Although they were not good people, emotionally, they were strangers to him, just like Director Wen. Lin Shenhe shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts. As a member of the transmigrators, anyone who harmed their interests could be killed.

He confirmed the position and distance of each target one by one. He put down the binoculars and dragged the table over, placing a modified pillow on it. A prone shooting position was much more accurate than kneeling; he could lie on the table to shoot.

“Fire when you hear the firecrackers downstairs,” Ran Yao reminded him again before quickly heading downstairs. He checked his watch: 5:20 PM.

Lin Shenhe took off his helmet and his cumbersome outer cloak. The thickness of clothing could also affect shooting accuracy. After settling into a prone position on the table, he pivoted on his left elbow, adjusted his body angle, and aimed the rifle at his target.

The choice of the first target was decided by Ran Yao: the medicine seller at the entrance of the Hezi Embankment.

In an instant, the medicine seller’s head filled the entire scope. Lin Shenhe gently lifted his abdomen off the table to prevent his breathing and the pulse of his major blood vessels from affecting his aim. Making a first-shot hit at one hundred meters in an outdoor environment with an unfamiliar rifle required absolute concentration. He swallowed and spoke into his walkie-talkie, “Lin Shenhe, ready.”

Bei Wei’s team was hiding in a small rowboat about 100 meters from the Xuanzhu.

Xiao Zishan waited a short distance away with the escort agency’s support team and two mule carts.

As the “ready” confirmations came in from each team over the walkie-talkie, Ran Yao felt the surroundings grow quiet. His five-shotgun was loaded, and a hunting knife was ready to be drawn. He reminded himself once more that this was a rescue mission, not an arrest.

The moment the firecrackers erupted, Lin Shenhe pulled the trigger. The movement of his index finger was almost imperceptible to his right hand. The first bullet went slightly astray, kicking up a puff of dust from the ground.

With almost no pause, in a completely subconscious motion, he ejected the casing, loaded a new round, and fired. A red dot instantly appeared on the medicine seller’s head, and he collapsed. As he adjusted his scope, he caught a glimpse of Ran Yao charging towards the flower boat, running with great strides, his five-shotgun at the ready. His black cloak billowed out, revealing his camouflage uniform and Type 80 helmet—a completely discordant sight in this classical setting of pink and green, a scene that would remain etched in his memory for years.

Ran Yao remembered that Lin Shenhe’s second target was the congee seller. The sound of the gunshots was lost in the firecrackers, but the seller was clearly not hit. He grinned, revealing a mouth full of white teeth, and pulled out three small knives from behind his back, their handles wrapped in blood-red cloth. On pure instinct, Ran Yao pulled the trigger. The muzzle flash of the five-shotgun was blinding. The knife-thrower was thrown backward as if punched, falling into the water. The red-ribboned knives clattered to the ground.

Screams and cries erupted. The few pedestrians and vendors on the embankment scattered for their lives. No one dared to run towards the demonic figure at the entrance; they either jumped into the water or dropped to the ground, trembling, burying their heads in the dirt.

Lin Shenhe chose the archer on the rear deck as his second target. This threat hadn’t been identified in the initial intelligence; they had assumed he was just an ordinary lookout. Through the scope, everyone’s movements were magnified four times. When he saw the sentry pick up a bow, he immediately fired two shots, killing the master archer on the deck.

The bouncer on the boat saw the two menacing figures in black charging straight for him and knew something was wrong. He started shouting something as he backed into the cabin, drawing an iron ruler. Just as Ran Yao was about to fire, a flower of blood suddenly blossomed on the man’s shoulder. A 5.6mm bullet had passed straight through, and he fell stiffly into the cabin.

Charging inside, Ran Yao found several women kneeling on the floor, too terrified to speak. The ferocity and strangeness of the attackers were beyond their imagination. Ran Yao didn’t bother with questions. He was about to kick open the door to the central cabin when he saw the curtain move. He and his teammate fired almost simultaneously. The thick smell of gunpowder filled the cabin. With a scream, a large, dark man stumbled out, covered in blood, clutching a dagger and a set of seven-star darts.

“Brother Wang!” one of the prostitutes shrieked.

Although his face was mangled by the lead shot, his build, appearance, clothing, and the prostitute’s cry confirmed that this was the ringleader, Boss Wang. Ran Yao breathed a sigh of relief. The main culprit hadn’t escaped! He was about to continue the search when he heard Lin Shenhe’s urgent report over the radio: “Go rescue Director Wen! A small boat next to the flower boat is getting away!”

From his position, he could see the small boat moving, but his line of sight to the rower was blocked by the flower boat itself.

Fortunately, Bei Wei was on the water to intercept. He spotted the moving boat just as Lin Shenhe’s words came through and fired two shots at its stern. He immediately heard a scream.

“Row, quickly!”

The two escort agency men rowing the boat were dumbfounded. The sharp command snapped them back to their senses, and they began to row with all their might.

As the two boats drew closer, Bei Wei estimated the distance and leaped aboard the other boat. Before he could steady himself, a man burst out of the cabin and slashed at his face with a knife, fast and vicious. In a fight on a small, rocking boat, Bei Wei was no match for this man. However, he had a five-shotgun. His finger pulled the trigger on reflex. The difference in weaponry was tragic. At near point-blank range, the 16 pellets turned the man into a human beehive. The blood sprayed onto Bei Wei’s face.

Without hesitation, Bei Wei charged into the cabin. This small boat was used as living quarters for the people on the flower boat. The cabin was tiny, with just enough room for a bed and a small table. Lying on the bed was none other than Director Wen.

“Target neutralized!” Bei Wei shouted into his walkie-talkie. “Director Wen has been found.” He checked his mouth and nose; his breathing was steady and normal, as if he were in a deep sleep. “He’s safe.”

“All teams, withdraw!” Ran Yao’s voice came over the radio. “Check the cabin for any modern items. Take what you can, throw the rest in the water.”

“What about you?”

“Searching for our missing items. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done. Meet at the rendezvous point!”

“Be careful.”

“Understood.”

Bei Wei directed his team and the escort men to carry Director Wen out. He quickly searched the cabin but found nothing besides some women’s cosmetics in a drawer. Outside, he picked up the spent shotgun shells from the deck and searched the two mangled bodies, stuffing whatever small items he found into a nylon pouch at his waist. He quickly returned to his own boat, and they rowed towards the rendezvous point.

From the first firecracker to Director Wen being helped onto the mule cart, the entire operation took just over four minutes. The bandits were completely defenseless against such a meticulously planned assault. As the mule cart started to move, the string of ten-thousand-shot firecrackers was still crackling, as if celebrating the transmigrators’ first victory.