“Confirm the enemy sniper’s position.”
In the command room, accompanied by the soft hiss of static, the police sniper’s voice came through: “Target is within sniper range. Requesting permission to fire. Over.”
Tan Shiming said, “Permission to fire.”
“Received.”
What followed was a suffocating stretch of silence.
Zhou Jin felt her way toward the source of the gunshots.
After the new Haijin Port had been established, Jingang Wharf had rapidly fallen into decline. Obsolete shipping containers lay scattered and piled haphazardly across the grounds, providing her with excellent cover.
In the direction of the warehouse, sporadic gunfire rang out — most likely providing cover for the fallen Yao Weihai — but with the sniper position still uneliminated, no one dared to expose themselves recklessly again.
Then, at that very moment, another thunderous blast shook the air!
Zhou Jin thought she could hear the scream of something tearing through the sky directly overhead — and then, with a tremendous crash, a cascade of shattered glass rained down in all directions.
This shot had clearly come from the police’s own sniper, and the point struck had to be the location of the enemy sniper.
Had it landed?
If it hadn’t, with the sniper position now exposed, that person would certainly be relocating.
Zhou Jin tightened her grip on the gun in her hand, and looked up. Before her stood a tall, imposing control tower.
It was clearly long past its years of maintenance — the surroundings were dilapidated and desolate. Yet as a commanding high ground, it offered an extraordinarily wide field of fire, and below it a road led directly out, making for a convenient escape route.
Cross-referencing the direction of the police sniper’s shot, Zhou Jin was certain — that person was right here.
She slipped through the door as quietly as she could, and was just preparing to head up and assess the situation, when she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps striking the iron staircase overhead.
Zhou Jin pressed herself against the wall and ducked low, doing her best to stay out of the other person’s line of sight.
She held her breath. A dark figure came charging down the stairs, and in the split second that he turned — Zhou Jin raised her gun and shouted, “Don’t move! Police!”
The other party halted. He was facing the direction of the door, his back to Zhou Jin.
It was a man. He asked her, “A woman?”
He let out a light laugh — contempt and mockery barely concealed beneath it.
Zhou Jin said, “Raise your hands. Clasp them behind your head.”
The man complied quite obligingly, then asked, “Just you alone?”
Zhou Jin didn’t engage with him. She closed in cautiously.
Drawing nearer, in the faint traces of light, she made out a black cap on the man’s head and a sniper rifle slung across his back.
Zhou Jin pressed her gun against the back of his head and freed her other hand to reach for the handcuffs at her waist, intending to restrain him first.
The faint metallic clink of the cuffs sounded. The man’s ears twitched slightly — and in almost the same instant, he spun around with sudden force, seized Zhou Jin’s wrist with pinpoint accuracy, and wrenched it savagely!
In the darkness, came a faint crack of bone shifting out of place. Pain exploded through her in an instant. Zhou Jin’s fingers went slack and the gun slipped from her hand, clattering to the ground.
Before he could lock his grip fully on her arm, Zhou Jin twisted sideways and drove her foot hard into his stomach.
The man had no time to dodge and stumbled back several steps, hunching slightly, one hand clutching his aching abdomen.
The black brim of his cap lifted, revealing a pair of extremely dark eyes. Their cold, sharp gaze swept across Zhou Jin — his peripheral vision catching the gun where it had fallen not far from him.
In that razor-thin moment, Zhou Jin immediately read his intention and lunged forward, tackling him to the ground.
The man had already gotten hold of the gun. He raised the muzzle without a moment’s hesitation and pulled the trigger. Zhou Jin’s reflexes kicked in — she clamped down on his wrist —
Bang!
The shot went wide. The bullet passed within a hair’s breadth of Zhou Jin’s ear!
Zhou Jin gave him no chance at a second shot. She slammed his arm down against the ground, and the gun was knocked free again.
Before she could even exhale in relief, a glint of cold light flashed below — a dagger lunged straight at her shoulder.
Zhou Jin immediately rolled to the side. The sharp blade, deflected upward by the force of her dodge, sliced across her flesh through the body armor, carving open a wound three or four inches long.
Zhou Jin felt a blazing sting. Thick, hot blood began to seep through her fingers.
The man let out a cold laugh. He reversed his grip on the dagger, his movements fluid and powerful.
The damp sea wind surged in, howling past Zhou Jin’s ears. Her entire arm was going numb with cold.
At that moment, a sudden gunshot rang out in the darkness — a single round fired into the air.
Against the backlight, a tall, powerfully built figure appeared in the doorway, a wisp of pale smoke still curling from the gun muzzle.
“Don’t move.”
Zhou Jin heard the voice of the newcomer, and it struck her like a bolt from a clear sky. Her entire body seized up.
The figure continued, “I’m one of Seventh Uncle’s men. I’m here to extract you. The police have already traced this position — we can’t stay here. Move!”
There was no time to think it through. Qi Yan pocketed his dagger and bolted toward the door.
As he passed the newcomer, Qi Yan pulled his cap brim down low and said in a low, flat voice, “Kill her.”
The newcomer turned his head slightly and answered, “I’ll handle it.”