SDT 41

Chapter 41: Going to Life (Main Chapter)

The contact obediently went into a bush, made a rustling sound, and squatted down. 

“Ouch…” 

He cried softly.

“What’s wrong?” Huang Mao asked. The other party did not answer, and hummed. He raised his gun and walked over slowly: “What are you doing? Come out!”

The sound stopped.

Huang Mao immediately halted, holding his breath to listen to the movements there.

A dark shadow emerged from the bush, and he was suddenly knocked down. With a snap of his wrist, the gun flew out. The moment he was about to scream, his mouth was covered tightly. While covering his mouth, the other party grabbed his head and slammed it to the ground. The severe pain made Huang Mao dizzy in an instant.

In a flash, he lost his resistance. He struggled to reach for the gun, and was hit decisively and fiercely on the back of his head, and he lost consciousness.

The contact breathed heavily and quickly took out everything in Huang Mao’s pocket. A switchblade, a stick of chewing gum, some odds and ends, but there was no mobile phone.

At that moment, Shouzi’s alarmed voice rang out: “A Mao?”

The contact covered his mouth to muffle the sound. After a few seconds of thought, he decisively grabbed the pistol on the ground and fired two shots to attract attention. Then he turned and ran. Sure enough, the footsteps turned into running, and there were shouts: “A Mao? A Mao!”

“What happened?” The brute’s voice came from behind.

The contact had circled around the back of the house and had the audacity to return to the front door.

This house’s windows were all nailed shut; only this door allowed entry and exit. The contact fired the gun to lure the two away, diverting the tiger from the mountain, while he risked being trapped inside to return here. Because he must retrieve the phone and notify everyone that among those heading to the netting site now, the key target figure was not present. A rash arrest would alert the target and allow him to escape again. If the target could connect with the real contact, he would disappear into thin air, and his capture would be impossible.

The “contact” entered the house and headed straight for the disassembled phone on the table. He was sweating, his brow furrowed, his fingers trembling as he assembled his phone. He glanced at the painkillers beside him.

Time was running out. To ensure it would boot up, he had to fix his phone first, under a bright light. He looked away, concentrating intently on his own phone, so he could assemble it more methodically. After snapping the back cover on and turning it on, he grabbed his phone and scrambled to send a message: “Shanxiao 1122. Fish not in the net, See my location

At this moment, he heard running footsteps outside the door, so he resolutely rushed out the front door. The two at the door saw the shadowy figure fleeing and were stunned for a moment, then fired at his rapidly escaping back.

“Fuck!”

“Stop!”

Amidst the sound of curses and gunshots, the “contact” groaned and fell to the ground. But he quickly rolled over, clutching his arm, and resumed running.

Shouzi and the brute ran in pursuit of that figure. he figure seemed to have unleashed his full strength, running at breakneck speed, as light as a ghost in the moonlight. They yelled and cursed as they fired furiously. But with poor visibility at night and not close enough, they couldn’t hit him. 

The brute saw that person stepping on a rubble pile, leaping to grasp the high factory wall before him. Once over, into the woods, the two had no assurance of recapturing him.

The two watched that shadow nearing the wall top, eyes bulging with hate, but subconsciously accepting this outcome.

“Fuck your ancestors!” the brute cursed loudly. He fired two more shots skyward in impotent rage.

Then something strange happened. The figure lingered for a moment, seemingly trying to move upward, but he couldn’t. After a few seconds, he inexplicably slipped and fell to the ground like a rag.

Shouzi and the brute exchanged a glance, then immediately rushed up.

Arriving at the wall base, they saw the “contact” curled into a ball, weakly gasping, like a flickering flame on a spent candle.

Shouzi coldly appraised him; he stomped viciously on his chest, accompanied by a cracking sound and a muffled cry of pain.

“Take him back.”

The two, one grabbing the “contact”’s hair, the other his bleeding arm, dragged the person back to the house.

“The phone,” Shouzi looked as the brute bound this completely unresisting fellow to the stool. He asked.

The “contact” looked at him and actually laughed.

“Ex.” His lung sacs seemed leaky; his voice was terrifyingly hoarse.

Shouzi punched his face.

The “contact”’s neck tilted aside, unable to return for a long time. Blood flowed from his mouth corner again.

Shouzi looked at him: “When did you know?”

After a while, only the “contact”’s eyes turned back, stubbornly meeting his gaze.

“I said, with Ex, ten thousand; without, two thousand per head,” he coughed, his body shuddering with pain, but he continued: “At that time, when that yellow-haired kid was so nervous, so afraid of being the discard. But when you let the fake ‘boss’ go first, he was calm, unafraid of being left. Because he knew who the true ‘Ex’ was, hence that reaction.”

The fake contact said, “There were no belated companions at all. You were waiting: if those three called, you would reveal the truth, and the boat would not take them. If no news, you would kill me and continue lurking for the real contact. Right? After all, your so-called ‘boss’ did not even bring the most important goods. Those three were the ‘discards.’”

“Who are the discards?” The uninformed brute looked to Shouzi: “Big Brother, did you not say not to abandon any brother? What exactly did Fatty and the others go to do?”

Shouzi ignored the brute. He glanced at the black case in the corner, then at the fake contact. He pondered briefly, then gave a cold laugh: “No wonder you always wanted to mention the per-head fee. So from the start, you were scheming to observe.”

Shouzi thought, if that reaction was a flaw exposed by the idiot A Mao, then the second time the fake contact mentioned the per-head fee after arriving here, it was he who interrupted him. He too had not been steady enough, falling for it.

A surge of anger rose in Shouzi’s heart; he ground his teeth, then walked to the table, picked up the foil-wrapped painkillers, and returned to this false contact: “But this illness is not feigned, right?”

Cold sweat dripped from the “contact”’s pale face.

Shouzi broke out the pills one by one, tossed them to the ground, and crushed them under his shoe sole.

“I hate being deceived most,” Shouzi said. “Do you know how that stupid colleague of yours died? I want you worse than him.”

Shouzi pressed his finger to the “contact”’s chest, where he had just stomped, grinding forcefully: “Do you know, last time that fellow was beaten by my bunch of lunatics into something like a soft-bodied animal before barely dying; it took several people together to pick him up?”

The “contact”‘s hands, tied to the chair, bulged with veins from pain. But he met the other’s ferocious grin with an equally savage expression: “Stop trying to save face for yourself. You are already exposed by me.”

“…”

This tough one willing to endure pain and explain so much was absolutely not fulfilling some obligation to let the opponent know the truth or satisfying a victor’s expressive desire. It was to delay time only. Because he had already notified that side; soon police would come based on the location.

“I will not fall for your tricks again,” Shouzi calmed, straightened. His cheek twitched; his expression smoothed from ferocious to contemptuous: “I am not so easily caught. When your eternally late colleagues arrive, they can only see a stupid police corpse. Same as last time.”

Shouzi said to the brute: “Kill him.”

Then Shouzi turned, picked up the case from the corner, and walked to the door.

The brute once more pressed the gun muzzle to this detestable fellow’s head. Grinding his teeth in a grin: “This time it is real.”

“Bang!” A gunshot rang out, but not from the brute’s hand.

The brute was stunned, first looked at his gun, stunned for seconds, then raised his head to look. From the side, he saw Shouzi at the door glaring wide-eyed, standing rigidly. But an instant later, he collapsed straight backward onto the cement floor.

Immediately followed crisp sounds of military leather boots stepping in. A man in camouflage entered, lowered his gun hand, and said: “Thought we arrived late; turns out right on time. Heaven aids me.”

Four or five similarly attired underlings followed him in. The uniformed man turned back, saw the brute, and his expression puzzled: “Just you two? Ex only brought you one?”

He glanced at the blood gourd tied to the stool: “Ho, this routine again. Seems he has many traitors around; living must be exhausting enough.”

The brute gaped: “You…”

“Shh.” Ding Qi put the gun to his lips. “Little crawler need not be so surprised.”

Then he extended his arm and shoot the brute between the eyebrows. The brute also fell to the ground.

Ex knew too many of his secrets and interaction evidence; now exposed by name. Whether he was caught by police or fled the country, it was a scourge to Ding Qi. Ding Qi knew their organization arranged his exit from S Country, so he planned to intercept.

It was rushed but he made it.

At this time, gunshots rang outside too. Then another underling entered to report: “There was one more behind the house. I have dealt with him.”

“Mm.” Ding Qi nodded. “Any others?”

“None.”

Ding Qi: “Take the case; we go.”

He planned to make it look like Ex was on the run, abandoning his men after an internal conflict and absconding with the goods. 

Things went smoothly. Ding Qi instructed, “Untie that blood gourd traitor and shoot him, just like the others.”

“Yes,” the man said, obeying the order and stepping forward. For the nth time that day, the blood gourd’s head was pointed at by a gun.

The blood gourd made a sound. He strained to open his mouth: “Ding Qi… Do not leave yet.”

“…” Ding Qi halted, walked over, somewhat surprised as he sized him up: “You know me?”

The blood gourd raised his head, looking at him. On the dirty, weathered face, the pupils were a strikingly light color.

“Oh…” Indeed, a sense of familiar memory awakened. Ding Qi looked at his eyes. Then he seized the cheeks, used his thumb to wipe away a streak of grime, revealing pale skin beneath.

The blood gourd cracked his mouth in a gruesome smile, prompting him: “Master… Did Second Young Master Lu’s give you a good beating?”

Ding Qi was startled.

Several people behind him gasped, varying in depth.

Due to Second Young Master Lu brutally beating another grandson of the Ding family, Ding Kai, into the hospital in the camp, the matter of Ding Qi being slapped by Second Young Master Lu at S House also spread, becoming known to nearly everyone in the military department. The Ding family’s face was utterly lost, rubbed on the ground like a shoe sole.

As Ding Qi’s underlings, they dared not make a sound but could not help curiously surrounding this frail inferior Omega blood gourd, observing what he had to make Ding Qi and Second Young Master Lu two top-grade Alphas vie for him in a place like S House full of beauties.

Ding Qi pinched the face forcefully to appraise; no mistake. Simple alteration of appearance and age, but eyes, face shape, nose, mouth, all were that low-class waiter from then. Ding Qi gritted his teeth. So the thing that screwed him over was not a real waiter; from that time, he had been scheming against him.

Ding Qi took a breath and attacked with both hands. He used his mouth to return the shame that Second Young Master Lu had brought to the Ding family to the culprit, but with no less force. 

“Bitch!” His mood fluctuated much more than when he was killing someone just now.

“…Commander.” An underling slightly older looked at the blood gourd bleeding again. Thinking this traitor was likely a police officer. An Omega undercover police who infiltrated S House and delved among desperate criminals. The Alpha veteran felt some pity, though not much.

He stepped forward and said lowly: “Commander, it is better we leave here immediately; hurry and finish this person.”

“What is the rush,” Ding Qi laughed back, his expression like a switch suddenly triggering mental breakdown, affecting the facial nerves. “Is your mother getting married?”

“…” The veteran retreated with forbearance.

Ding Qi fetched a stool and sat opposite, propping his booted foot to appraise the other.

“So, that day you went to S House because of me.”

“Yes,” the fake waiter lowered his eyelids and answered. “But merely to seek clues. I did not know originally that you and Ex were so entangled. If I had known earlier, I would have…”

“Would have what?” Ding Qi asked. “No need for earlier knowledge; you were already ruthless enough. Even hooked Lu Kongyun. Does he know your identity? He hit me because I touched his little lover?”

The fake waiter shook his head and answered: “No. He hit you because you truly deserved a beating. Heh…”

He spat blood, his trembling breaths carrying noise. He appeared as if he would not survive long even without a supplemental shot.

This fake waiter seemed to have endured unknown torments, but his bones were hard; even with whole body spasming, including fingers, he persisted in proper conversation.

Ding Qi knew Ex’s cruel nature must not have spared this traitor. But if he let him die like this, Ding Qi felt unwilling. After all, others killing was others’; what this fellow owed him was not yet repaid.

He saw some powder on the ground.

Hm?

He walked over, squatted, pinched some, and sniffed. Medicine. He frowned, thought, then realized. This Ex was indeed not a thing. But he knew how to make one suffer.

He provided Ding Qi with excellent ideas.

Ding Qi stood, grinning: “Bring the case.”

The underling handed him the case. He sat on the stool, opened it. Inside were various drugs. The sellable ones had been sold through familiar channels; these here were extras stolen from M Country, many unknown in function, like injectables. Ex must have contacted foreign buyers to get the organization’s aid in escape. Anyway, these were useless to Ding Qi.

Ding Qi picked up a syringe labeled with unfamiliar terms and symbols, displayed it to the gasping fellow opposite: “Don’t know what it is; why not try them all on you, and see what interesting things happen.”

Two underlings stood outside smoking. After a while, another who could not bear it came out, asked one for a cigarette and lighter.

The three said nothing. They had seen battlefield gore, but this was another kind. Even compared to that intense combat and killing, this was physiologically harder to accept. Much harder.

From the dimly lit house, the barely audible groans of an Omega tortured by various unknown drugs echoed. It was more piercing than a scream.

Another man emerged. He didn’t ask for a cigarette, but instead said in a tight voice, “He’s crazy. Let him die quickly.”

A short while later, Ding Qi, from inside, issued an order: “This is disgusting. What’s all that stuff coming out? Go, see if he’s still alive.” 

The underling merely touched the clothes and reported swiftly: “No heartbeat.”

Those outside all exhaled.

Ding Qi packed the case. He looked at the Omega corpse and said: “This does not look like internal strife. You two, move him out, dump somewhere else.”

He directed the two who had been outside to lift the corpse: “We return the same way first; you two dump this corpse, hurry and catch up.”

The two accepted the order.

The two carried the corpse out of the hollow, got in the car, drove along the small road onto the mountain path. The originally clear mountain sky suddenly began raining. In minutes, the downpour was like a waterfall on their windshield. They maxed the wipers and headlights, continuing through the rain. On a narrow stretch, they stopped.

Here, one side was a steep cliff, the other the turbulent rainy-season river, which after the largest valley in Shijia region, flowed to S Country’s southern small delta, ultimately into the outer sea.

They planned to dump the body here, so they rolled through the mountainsides and exited the car amidst thunder. 

Braving the pouring rain, the two men pulled the body from the trunk and carried it together to the roadside. 

The sound of a car engine revving at full speed could be heard not far away. The two men stared at each other, stunned, trying to confirm from each other’s faces whether this was just an illusion conjured by the thunderstorm. On this dark, rainy mountain night, it was rare to see anyone driving by. How could they be driving so fast?

But the other’s expression indicated it wasn’t an illusion. They both sped up immediately. The moment they threw their hands, they heard the screeching of brakes and shouts. Flashlights flashed in their faces.

“Don’t move!”

Xu Jie was the first to get out of the car, but he instinctively didn’t move toward the two men. Instead, he dove over to where they’d thrown the thing and looked down. He shone his flashlight downward. Beneath the cliff face, between the branches, he saw an arm, gleaming brightly in the rain. It was ragged and bloodied, the back of the hand a strange, eerie blue-black. Yet, the slender shape of the fingers still identified it as the hand he’d used to drive on the driver’s side every day.

He howled, tears streaming down his face. He reached out to grab it, but it was too far, and the branches on the cliff face couldn’t bear the weight of the erosion. He watched the arm slide into the branches and suddenly disappear from his sight. 

“Brother Xiaowen!”

The cry made Chen Zihan, who was working with his colleagues to round up the criminal, shudder and glance over. He was stunned by Xu Jie’s wailing at the cliff face, then yanked the struggling man pinned to the ground by the hair. “What did you throw?”

The other said nothing; he pressed the face harder into the mud: “Speak!”

“…Corpse.”

That person said. Not loud amid the rain, but all who heard froze.

Another car stopped behind the congested narrow road, then a police ran over and reported to Chen Zihan: “Three corpses in the cabin, Captain Yu’s phone is there too. But Captain Yu is not; and, and… used needles on the ground.”

Xu Jie shouted, slumped over on the cliff edge. Chen Zihan shouted angrily. 

Someone ran up behind him: Old Wang. He also knelt beside Xu Jie, facing the cliff, in a daze, with a mixture of cool rain and hot tears on his face. The heavy rain continued to fall, making the night even darker.