26: get away

The thick steam had not yet fully dissipated, hanging over the warehouse like a filthy shroud, mixed with the pungent smell of ozone, a strong scorched odor, and the metallic tang of rust.

Lu Jianchuan lay slumped in the cold, jagged metal ruins. Every breath brought a sharp pain to his ribs and abdomen, as if countless red-hot needles were piercing through his body. His throat was filled with the taste of blood, making every swallow incredibly difficult.

White Star's massive shadow, covered in thick grayish-white skin, broke through the murky mist like the most tangible fear from a nightmare, crushing its way forward step by step. The icy chill of death nearly froze his blood.

Just at the moment those glinting, cold claws were about to swing down—

"Whoosh—Bang!"

A blazing red signal flare, with undeniable precision, suddenly tore through the gloom and slammed into the concrete ground less than three meters in front of Lu Jianchuan's nose!

What exploded was not fire, but a surging eruption of pungent, crimson smoke, instantly erecting a searing and choking barrier between him and death.

The Special Affairs Investigation Bureau!

At almost the same millisecond the signal flare exploded, multiple warehouse entrances and high windows were pushed open simultaneously as if by an invisible hand, and several dark gray figures surged in swiftly and silently. Their movements were devoid of any wasted effort; landing, rolling, drawing weapons, and aiming—the entire process was completed within a single breath.

Without any communication or hesitation, every muzzle and every gaze behind tactical goggles seemed to be unified by a supreme command, locking onto the largest, most violent, and most blindingly bright white target in the center of the field.

"Bang! Zzzzt—Vroom!"

The battle instantly reached a fever pitch. Specially made projectiles hit White Star's thick skin, exploding into bursts of blue plasma; high-frequency restraint cables coiled like venomous snakes; a certain sonic device emitted a low-frequency noise that made one's teeth ache.

White Star's furious roars intertwined with the unique rumble of energy weapons, shaking the entire warehouse and causing debris and dust to fall from the ceiling.

An opportunity!

Lu Jianchuan's eardrums were ringing from the nearby explosion, but his survival instinct overrode everything. He gritted his teeth, nearly biting through his lip, and used all his remaining strength to suddenly roll toward the side and rear!

His body ground over sharp metal fragments, bringing new stabs of pain, but he successfully hid himself behind a pile of tall, rusted iron drums that smelled strongly of engine oil.

The outside was a deafening battlefield. He could hear the crisp "clang-clang" of bullets hitting metal, feel the heat of energy ripples passing through the air, and hear the short, rapid commands of the Investigation Bureau members through their mask communicators.

All their movements and firepower were poured onto White Star with madness, without a single shred of attention diverted elsewhere.

He leaned his back against the cold, greasy iron drums, panting heavily. Cold sweat soaked his inner shirt, mixing with blood and grime to create a sticky, icy sensation. He cautiously peered out a bit to calculate a path.

From here to the distribution box in the corner—covered by half a piece of tattered canvas—where he had hidden his police uniform, there was a distance of over ten meters. In between was an open area dotted with several piles of waste.

He couldn't just dash straight across!

He took a deep breath of the air filled with gunpowder and blood, then suddenly lunged out! His body felt clumsy due to the pain, but he utilized every available piece of cover: first crawling across a stretch of ground covered in oil and broken glass, the rough surface scraping his palms and knees.

Next, he performed a roll, hiding behind the wreckage of an overturned forklift; a piece of scrap metal sent flying by a stray bullet embedded itself with a "thud" into the spot where he had just been. Then, crouching low, he moved forward quickly using the shadows cast by several large, worm-eaten wooden pallets.

His heart hammered wildly in his chest, nearly smashing his ribs. He finally reached the back of the distribution box. His fingers, trembling uncontrollably from exhaustion and tension, fumbled to pull away the canvas and clutter, grabbing the folded, dust-stained police uniform.

Ignoring the filth and pain, he pulled the clothes on as fast as he could. The rough fabric rubbed against his wounds, making him hiss in pain, but this familiar uniform brought a faint sense of security at this moment.

Just then, a shrill roar of pain and fury erupted from White Star outside, followed by an even stronger burst of energy. The warehouse lights dimmed abruptly, and then several remaining bulbs exploded one after another, shards falling like rain!

Now's the time!

Taking advantage of the sudden darkness and the peak of the chaotic noise, Lu Jianchuan pulled his hat low to hide his face—covered in dust, sweat, and blood—and stumbled as quickly as possible out through a narrow passage at the very edge of the warehouse, filled with discarded tires and broken pipes.

When he finally stumbled out of the warehouse doors and felt the cold, relatively fresh air fill his lungs, his legs gave way, and he nearly collapsed. He propped himself against the wall and took several greedy breaths before managing to steady himself.

He didn't dare linger. Identifying the direction, he found his police motorcycle, which he had carefully concealed behind a thicket of thorny, withered bushes. He hopped on, inserted the key, and the engine gave a suppressed low growl.

He stole one last glance at the warehouse behind him, where terrifying rumbles and flashes continued, then twisted the throttle. The motorcycle, like a wounded beast fleeing a hunting ground, silently slipped into the labyrinthine alleys of the Old Port District. After a few quick turns, it completely merged into the cold and detached flow of shimmering traffic at the city's edge.

The glow of neon lights swept across his pale, exhausted face. He had only one thought now: go back, treat the wounds, eat something, and then... collapse.

Lu Jianchuan didn't know how he navigated the backstreets and alleys, or how he climbed those familiar, dimly lit stairs. His memory was only left with fragments: blurred streetscapes and the uncontrollable trembling of his arms as he gripped the handlebars.

When he finally used his key to open the door to his rental apartment in the corner of the fourth floor, locking it behind him and leaning his back against the door, the strength he had maintained throughout the journey was instantly drained.

He didn't even have the strength to turn on the lights or check if the windows were tightly shut. He slid down the door to sit on the floor. The familiar sounds of neighbors cooking and the faint noise of televisions drifted in from outside, yet they gave him a strange sense of detachment.

Intense pain, exhaustion, and the massive void after energy depletion hit him like a triple wave, finally submerging him completely. He slumped onto the floor mat by the entrance and fell into a deep coma... for an unknown amount of time.

A sharp, persistent phone ringtone, like a steel needle, pierced through the layers of fog in his consciousness.

Lu Jianchuan jolted awake, his heart pounding wildly from the sudden stimulus, pulling at the wounds all over his body and causing him to break out in a cold sweat from the pain. He found himself still lying on the floor, his limbs cold and stiff. Outside the window, the sun was already setting, the golden-red afterglow drenching the sky.

The phone continued to ring stubbornly, showing his colleague Zhao Dawu's name on the screen.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the metallic taste in his throat and his body's protests, and answered the call with a voice as steady as possible.

"Hello... Brother Zhao."

"Jianchuan! Where the hell did you go?! It's already past four in the afternoon, and you haven't picked up several of my calls! Are you okay?" Zhao Dawu's voice carried obvious concern and urgency.

"I'm fine..." Lu Jianchuan's voice was a bit raspy. He cleared his throat. "It's just... I was following the lead on that Whale and ended up in the Old Port District. The place was too remote, and the signal wasn't very good."

"Old Port District? You actually went to look for it!" Zhao Dawu's tone held a bit of admiration, but more of a warning. "Alright, alright, stop looking! We just got notice from above that the case, and that Whale, have been officially transferred to the Special Affairs Investigation Bureau for full handling. It has nothing to do with us anymore! Hurry up and head back; it's almost time to change shifts."

Lu Jianchuan fell silent for a moment. Transferred? He had witnessed the fierce battle taking place there with his own eyes; this result was not at all surprising.

"Okay, I got it, Brother Zhao. I... I still have some loose ends to tie up here, and then I'll head straight back."

"Alright, then take care of yourself and get back quickly." Zhao Dawu didn't suspect anything, gave another reminder, and hung up.

The call ended, and the room plunged back into silence, save for his heavy breathing. He looked at the "Call Ended" text on his phone screen, then looked up at the sky outside the window, burning with the sunset.

Transferred? Nothing to do with him anymore?

He struggled, using his still-mobile left hand to slowly roll up the sleeve of his right arm. Beneath it was a crudely bandaged wound that was still faintly seeping blood. He then gently pressed on his ribs, and a dull pain shot through him.

These injuries, Uncle Li's death, and that armor hidden under the armband... Could all of this really have "nothing to do" with him anymore?

He leaned against the door, gazing at the setting sun outside. His eyes were weary, but they showed not a hint of compromise.