A siren-wailing, light-flashing police car sped past them head-on.

Inside the taxi, the driver, who possessed a distinct Northeastern accent, forced a wry smile. "Brother, they're definitely going to find me later. When they do, I'll have to tell them you held me up at gunpoint to drive. You understand, right?"

Wang Zhuo nodded. He was keenly aware of how advanced big city surveillance systems were. In no time, the police would trace the vehicle's movements from the footage, track down the taxi driver, and question him about his escape route. What he was fighting now wasn't a group of incompetent thugs; it was scum wielding the apparatus of the state.

Just a few minutes earlier, Wang Zhuo had suddenly steered the car into a dark recess by the roadside, killed the lights, and cut the engine. He, Gan Lin, and the other woman then bolted to the side of the road, flagged down this taxi, and turned around, driving back the way they came—a sudden reversal no one had anticipated. All along the route, police cars and unmarked vehicles had been flying toward them, clearly in pursuit.

The driver was utterly confused until the police broadcast on the taxi’s radio urged all cabbies to watch out for a red, old Santana or passengers consisting of one man and two women. Only then did he grasp the gravity of the situation.

The Dongjiang police reaction speed far exceeded Wang Zhuo's expectations, which simultaneously confirmed something: their connection with the Red House was definitely shady. Otherwise, why would the emergency line go unanswered while they worked so diligently and enthusiastically for the Red House?

Wang Zhuo laid out the entire situation to the driver honestly, making it clear: either drive properly without tricks, or hand over the keys and be tied up by the roadside waiting for rescue.

Upon hearing that the trio had escaped from the Red House, the driver simply said one sentence—"You don't drive as fast as I do"—and stomped the accelerator to the floor.

The taxi finally sped out of that perilous zone just before the police could seal off the main thoroughfares of the Dongjiang district. Wang Zhuo let out a small breath of relief, pulled out his Apple phone, and turned off the recording.

He turned back and asked softly, "How are you two holding up?"

Gan Lin's face was ghostly pale, her expression tight, and she shook her head, whispering that she was fine. The other woman merely nodded, uttering two words: "Can walk."

Upon entering the urban area, the traffic gradually thickened. The police broadcast a few more updates over the radio. The driver solemnly advised Wang Zhuo, "Brother, you absolutely need to switch cars."

"Brother, thank you so much," Wang Zhuo said, pulling out a wad of hundred-yuan bills from his pocket. He peeled off a few notes and stuffed the rest into the driver's hand.

"No, no, don't," the driver quickly pushed the money back, speaking with straightforward honesty. "You need money for your travels too. You should keep this."

Wang Zhuo considered it and didn't insist further. He glanced at the service card displayed on the dashboard, secretly noting the driver's name and license number.

"I can give you thirty minutes," the driver said, "and then I have to report it. I’ll tell them the radio was malfunctioning and I didn't hear the message earlier."

"Good."

The driver took the three of them down to a small street without surveillance cameras and stopped the car. He directed them to slip through an alleyway to another street to catch a different cab, suggesting they buy some casual T-shirts at the small convenience store in the alley to change into, and then split up.

It was only then that Gan Lin and the other woman realized the magnitude of the situation they were in. Their pursuers could seemingly control everything; even though they had escaped Dongjiang, they were not safe anywhere in Jiangzhou.

With truth inverted and black made white, the underworld and the legitimate authorities of Dongjiang were tightly intertwined—one nested within the other. If they were apprehended by the police and sent back to Dongjiang for trial, certain death awaited Wang Zhuo and the two women.

The power of ordinary people was as fragile as a sandcastle beneath the surging waves when faced with overwhelming authority; before these two mighty torrents, one operating above ground and one below, they were utterly defenseless.

"Can we trust him?"

Hurrying into the alley, Gan Lin looked back with a worried frown.

"Just trust me," Wang Zhuo replied calmly, leading the way, all the while subtly using the reflections in the various mirrors within the alley to monitor the driver's movements.

It wasn't until the trio had bought their items and left the alley that the driver was seen sitting at a roadside stall, slowly enjoying a large bowl of noodles, his phone and car keys lying right beside him, untouched.

Wang Zhuo finally relaxed. With the help of this kind-hearted driver, their flight had finally reached a temporary halt.

"That looks truly awful on you," Gan Lin managed a strained smile, pointing at the garish, non-mainstream wig Wang Zhuo had just bought at the small supermarket.

Wang Zhuo laughed awkwardly. The woman who had been silent suddenly spoke up timidly, "What are your plans next? I have nowhere left to go."

Gan Lin looked at Wang Zhuo. He pondered for a moment, then looked up and asked, "Under what circumstances were you captured?"

The woman gave a bitter smile and replied, "I run a tiny six-square-meter barbershop where I live and work. Now, I probably can't even stay in a hotel; I registered my ID when I rented the space."

"Then come with me," Wang Zhuo said decisively. After sharing this ordeal, they were friends now; he had to help her.

"Do you have a good plan?" Gan Lin asked nervously.

Wang Zhuo let out a short laugh and sneered, "Who lives and who dies isn't set in stone yet."

Hailing another taxi, Wang Zhuo first gave the driver a hundred-yuan tip, then searched his phone for a number and placed a call.

The frustratingly weak signal finally stabilized, and a rather youthful girl's voice answered on the other end. "Brother Wang Zhuo, what's up?"

"I need to see your grandfather. Where is he now?"

"At Haijiao Mountain Villa. I told you yesterday, didn't I? You refused to come with me because you wanted to stay with your girlfriend, hehe."

"Alright, I'm heading there now. Can you quickly find a landline and text me the number? The signal here is too bad."

"What's so urgent? Wait a second, I'll send it via text message."

Forty minutes later, the car pulled into the main compound of Haijiao Mountain Villa. Qin Siqing and Qin Jingzhong's driver, Xiao Ping, were waiting in the courtyard, alerted by the serious tone in Wang Zhuo's voice that something significant had happened.

"Brother Wang Zhuo, what happened to you?"

Seeing the three figures emerge from the car, Qin Siqing's eyes widened in astonishment. Wang Zhuo, leading the group, was wearing a skull T-shirt and a wig that looked like a bird's nest recently blasted by dynamite. The two women with him—one young, one slightly more mature—looked increasingly disheveled.

"Let's talk inside," Xiao Ping said calmly after a swift appraisal of the trio.

The five of them hurried into the villa, surrounded by pavilions, flowing water, birds, and carved buildings. Qin Siqing skipped along happily, introducing the grounds. "This used to belong to a wealthy salt merchant; much of the original layout is preserved."

She was full of enthusiasm, but Wang Zhuo and his companions had no leisure for sightseeing. Only the still-unnamed woman managed a weak smile for her.

Qin Siqing immediately understood and ceased speaking. She was merely delighted to host a friend from afar, possessing sufficient intelligence.

Old Master Qin resided in a spacious side room. He was half-reclining on the bed, a small computer desk set up before him, browsing the internet. He paused in surprise at Wang Zhuo’s appearance.

"I nearly lost my life," Wang Zhuo said with a strained chuckle, approaching the bed and sitting down on the edge.

"Tell me, what happened?" The old man glanced at him, then observed the two young women, nodding. "You two sit too. Siqing, quickly get them some water."

"Are you well enough to hear this? I'm afraid hearing about it might make you too angry." Wang Zhuo smiled, removed the wig, and tossed it carelessly onto the foot of the bed.

"If the Japanese devils couldn't kill me, do you think a young punk like you can make me explode with anger?" Qin Jingzhong pointed at Wang Zhuo irritably. "Hurry up and speak."

Wang Zhuo chuckled, reached behind his lower back, and, as if by magic, produced a handgun, setting it gently on the computer desk.

Qin Jingzhong was momentarily stunned. He frowned slightly, picked up the gun, gave it a quick look, and asked, "This is a police sidearm, isn't it? Where did you get it?"

Xiao Ping looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. Qin Siqing, blinking rapidly, leaned forward to hand Wang Zhuo a cup of cool boiled water while simultaneously inspecting the gun.

Wang Zhuo had already finished a bottle of mineral water at the supermarket and was thirsty again. He took the cup, drank it down in one go, handed the cup back to Qin Siqing without reserve, and gave her a small, smiling nod.

"Grandpa is asking where you got the gun?" Qin Siqing urged.

"Don't rush yet, I have more," Wang Zhuo said, reaching into his trousers pocket again. He pulled out several bullets and laid them out on the table one by one. Then he pulled out a second gun and placed it next to the first. Next, he retrieved a third gun, disengaged the safety, and arranged the other two guns into a triangle formation.

The computer desk was soon completely covered. Qin Siqing cleared the computer away. Qin Jingzhong soberly checked the ammunition and safeties on every single weapon. Once satisfied, he looked up at Wang Zhuo.

"I assaulted an officer, shot four police men, and seized these three guns. The arrest warrant will be out by tomorrow at the latest," Wang Zhuo said with a faint smile, as if discussing someone else's troubles. "I also killed one person—a clean shot through the head. The bullet entered through the forehead, leaving a hole no bigger than a fingertip pad. When it exited the back of the skull, it didn't shatter the bone; it left a hole the size of an eye socket. It’s not quite like what you see in the movies."

The room fell completely silent. Gan Lin looked at Wang Zhuo with terror, finally realizing that he had witnessed that moment. The three extra shots he deliberately fired were meant to take the blame for her.

"But I had no choice but to seize these guns," Wang Zhuo's tone shifted, and he grit his teeth as he spoke. "If I hadn't taken these guns, I couldn't have saved those two. If I hadn't saved them, they would have been brutally raped and forced into prostitution, forced to sell their bodies!"

A flicker of shock finally crossed Qin Jingzhong's eyes. Even when Wang Zhuo mentioned killing someone, the old man hadn't batted an eyelid, but hearing about forcing innocent women into prostitution, committing such heinous acts—his emotions finally surged.

"If I hadn't killed that man, they would have shot me dead!" Wang Zhuo's eyes were wide open like bronze bells, his voice ringing like clashing metal. "After killing me, they wouldn't just drag these two women back to silence them permanently; they would implicate our relatives, our families! They would frame us with a baseless charge, ensuring that we, who were already ground to dust, would still carry a name smeared with disgrace!"

I'm going to grab a bite to eat, then I'll be back to fight for more chapters! Got any monthly tickets or not?.....M