Chapter 81: Punishing the Villainous Fiend

Chapter Eighty: Severe Punishment for the Criminal

The piercing, sharp sound hammered against Qiu Yu’s eardrums, startling him to his core, for he was standing very close to the source. It was the alarm!

“What’s going on? Why is there an alarm?” Qiu Yu was momentarily stunned. Suddenly, his nerves snapped back into action. The cigarette he’d just lit slipped from his fingers to the floor. His pupils contracted rapidly, the centipede-like scar on his face twitching and contorting. “Could something have happened to the Headmaster?”

Impossible—he had been standing here the whole time. Chen Cao couldn’t possibly have entered the Headmaster’s office, and as for Headmaster Cao Wild Fox, who was he? A battle-hardened warrior, the stabilizing force of Unit 0611. No matter the situation, he always remained unflappable. Qiu Yu listened intently, but there was no mistake—the alarm was indeed coming from Cao Wild Fox’s office.

In all the years Qiu Yu could remember, this alarm had never once been triggered.

With this realization, he couldn’t help but glance toward the Headmaster’s office, not far down the corridor.

Just as he was thinking, the grating alarm fell abruptly silent. From the stairwell came the urgent thudding of running footsteps, and the sound of firearms clashing together sent a chill through Qiu Yu’s heart.

Guo Qianshuang and Zhou Anshi, weapons in hand, rushed up the stairs, followed closely by two guards. They called anxiously to Qiu Yu, who stood staring blankly at them: “Instructor Qiu, hurry, something’s happened to the Headmaster!”

“What!” The self-control Qiu Yu had been clinging to instantly shattered at Guo Qianshuang’s words. He didn’t answer; instead, he spun around, drew his pistol, racked the slide, and charged forward, shoving open the office door with force.

The door was only half closed and swung open easily at Qiu Yu’s push. He swore to himself that at the slightest sign of trouble, he’d shoot without hesitation.

But as the door crashed open, Qiu Yu froze in shock.

Chen Cao sat on the desk, a glinting dagger in hand. Blood, in thick droplets, dripped from the blade’s tip. With the loud bang of the door, Chen Cao merely turned his head slowly, gazing at Qiu Yu with lifeless, dead-fish eyes. The only thing that set him apart from a corpse was the dagger he clutched, its tip still aimed at Cao Wild Fox, who lay slumped in his chair.

In the dimly lit room, the faint scent of blood instantly filled Qiu Yu’s nose.

While Qiu Yu was momentarily stunned, Chen Cao swiftly turned back and, without hesitation, drove the dagger once more into Cao Wild Fox’s abdomen. The Headmaster, though already unconscious, twitched slightly at the blade’s touch.

With a sharp crack, Qiu Yu—never one to hesitate—recovered instantly. He leveled his pistol at Chen Cao’s head and pulled the trigger.

But Chen Cao jerked his head to the side. At such close range, the bullet spun into his shoulder, punching through and out the back of his arm.

Despite his wound, Chen Cao didn’t falter. With a flourish, he wrenched out the dagger, spun around, and hurled it at Qiu Yu, then leaped onto the desk. With a powerful kick, he launched himself toward the wide floor-to-ceiling window behind him.

The sound of shattering glass and gunfire overlapped in a violent cacophony.

Only after emptying a full magazine did Qiu Yu rush to the window, weapon at the ready. Below, a patch of blood was clearly visible in the grass, but of Chen Cao, there was no trace.

Guo Qianshuang and Zhou Anshi burst into the office, immediately checking the Headmaster’s pulse. Guo shouted to the guards, who were still frozen in shock: “He’s alive! Get him to the infirmary—move!”

The two guards snapped out of their daze, quickly fetched a stretcher, and, under Guo Qianshuang’s lead, carried the man they revered as a god out of the office at a run.

Meanwhile, Zhou Anshi grabbed the phone, punching in a number. “Get me Headquarters!”

But Qiu Yu placed his hand over the receiver, shaking his head. “Don’t panic. Stay calm.”

Zhou Anshi looked at Qiu Yu’s somber face, lips parting as if to argue, but he said nothing. Indeed, Qiu Yu was the cooler head in a crisis. Zhou Anshi withdrew his hand from the phone, his disappointment plain for all to see.

His most prized student had now betrayed them—or at the very least, had attempted to assassinate the Headmaster before their very eyes.

Could it be true? But why? Even now, Zhou Anshi, an elite instructor of special forces, couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

Qiu Yu said quietly, “I know what you’re thinking, but this is no joke. If word gets out, it will cause an uproar. So, we must conduct a covert operation to apprehend him. I trust you understand.”

Lost in thought, Zhou Anshi nodded mechanically. Though he never smoked, he pulled a cigarette from Qiu Yu’s pocket, lit it, and took two hard drags to steady himself before replying, “I understand. He was trained by me, by Old Shang and the others. No matter what, I will hand him over to the School Committee.”

With that, he strode out the door.

Left alone in the dimly lit office, Qiu Yu smoked in silence for a long time. Only when the cigarette burned down to the filter did he flick it away, then pulled a communicator from his breast pocket and dialed a number.

“It’s me. Yes, the plan has been set in motion. All right, from here on, it’s up to him. Understood…”

After a brief conversation, Qiu Yu lit another cigarette, sat on the desk, and pondered for a moment before dialing another number. “It’s me, Qiu Yu. Good. Tell your unit to move out.”

Finishing the call, Qiu Yu crushed the communicator in his hand until it shattered with a sharp snap.

———

The sun was blazing. Though the canopy of the forest was thick, shutting out much of the sky, the oppressive heat made it hard to breathe.

Clutching his wounded shoulder, Chen Cao moved quickly through the jungle. Fortunately, Qiu Yu’s close-range shot hadn’t left the bullet lodged in his shoulder—otherwise, treating the wound would have been a nightmare.

Leaning against a tree, Chen Cao’s sharp eyes caught sight of a dark green plant in the grass. Without hesitation, he yanked it out, roots and all, and chewed it. The bitter, cool taste spread across his tongue with the saliva, and he spat out the pulp. With a slash of his dagger, he tore a strip from his shirt, applied the plant fibers to his wound, and bound it tightly.

It was an herb to staunch bleeding—one Chen Cao knew well. The jungle was both a land of death and a place to survive, all depending on how one used its resources.

But survival here was not his goal; escape was. He had just attacked the Headmaster. If his predictions were correct, border troops would soon sweep the forest. Even with a thousand wings, he’d have no escape.

Gripping his dagger—now his only weapon—Chen Cao pressed on. He had to move quickly, to avoid any direct encounter with the border guards. He didn’t want to die, nor did he want to kill former comrades.

Step by step, he trudged through the dense undergrowth. Though he’d treated his wound, sweat stung the gash, making every movement agony.

The second time he paused to rest against a tree, he could already see a bright patch ahead—the frontier with the South of Dachen was near. Beyond it, he’d be outside the jurisdiction of the border troops and under a little less pressure.

A fresh breeze drifted through, stirring the green world around him. After so much pain, exhaustion, and mental strain, the cool wind almost lulled Chen Cao into a drowsy stupor.

But suddenly, his half-closed eyes snapped open. His keen senses detected movement in a patch of grass just a few meters away.

Chen Cao stood. At this distance, under surveillance, with only a dagger, he knew he couldn’t take out the enemy. He relaxed, raised his hands, and called out, “Come out. I’ve lost.”

There was no response, but Chen Cao waited patiently. He knew the other side was simply observing.

A few seconds later, from the tangled vines and grass, a figure emerged—body draped in camouflage netting, green plants sticking out all over. The disguise was perfect, only marred by the black muzzle of the gun in his hands.

“Xiao Li, the best tracker and master of camouflage in Unit 0611—it’s you. Of course, you’d be the first to find me.” Pale from blood loss, Chen Cao managed a faint smile.

Xiao Li’s face was grave. He approached, gun steady, and said, “I don’t care why. My orders are to find you and kill you.”

Chen Cao tossed the dagger to the ground. “You have the skill. I believe you.”

Xiao Li tilted his rifle aside and threw it to the ground. “But I don’t want to. So you have to kill me.” With that, he drew a gleaming military dagger from his belt, pressed it to his own chest, and stabbed down hard. The sound of blade piercing flesh was unmistakable. Xiao Li grunted, half-kneeling.

“Xiao Li!” Chen Cao saw what he was doing. His fingers twitched but he did not intervene. Watching the blade sink halfway into Xiao Li’s chest, he stooped, picked up the dagger, and walked past. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Clutching his wound, Xiao Li gazed at Chen Cao, a deep, knowing smile in his eyes. “Go—do what you must.”

Fire King 81—Complete!