Chapter Forty-Eight: Cinema and Life

"Get back, now! Didn't you hear me?" the attendant shouted, her voice trembling. Moments ago, she’d witnessed a passenger’s skull split open by a thug, blood spraying three feet across the aisle—a scene so gruesome it still haunted her mind.

The little demon’s purpose was solely to assist Su Tong. It could only offer suggestions and advice, but Su Tong’s commands could not be disobeyed. Reluctantly, it exchanged for the Fruit of Insight.

Though called a “fruit,” it was formless and invisible. The moment the little demon exchanged it, Su Tong immediately felt the compartment door before him twist and his vision slipped into an ethereal clarity, allowing him to see clearly into the first-class car ahead.

The sight that met his eyes made Su Tong’s brows shoot up in fury.

There, in the middle of the carriage, lay over a dozen passengers—men and women, young and old—sprawled in pools of blood, a ghastly scene. One of the windows was smashed, leaving a hole the size of a washbasin—who knew with what force it had been broken.

At the center of the carnage stood a tall young man clutching his bloodied arm, locked in a tense standoff with four young men and women who’d retreated toward Su Tong’s side of the car.

Of those four—three men and one woman—two men and the woman were also wounded. Each gripped a weapon: clubs, a rolling pin, and one even brandished a sharp blade that seemed fashioned from a cane.

“Yang Feifei’s bodyguard,” Su Tong breathed in silent relief. The lone, tall man was Yang Feifei’s protector. The armed quartet facing him were, clearly, the assailants.

His gaze shifted, and Su Tong saw Yang Feifei herself in the compartment, wearing a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses, a pale green dress, huddled with a group of terrified passengers behind her bodyguard.

So that disagreeable girl was here too—why hadn’t he thought of that? But then, with her bodyguard present, it made sense.

Yet, what of the woman from the Golden Garden’s small plaza? She was nowhere to be seen. Scanning the carriage, Su Tong couldn’t spot Yang Feifei’s other bodyguard.

It seemed Yang Feifei had brought only one protector today. Otherwise, with two, those four thugs would likely have been subdued by now.

But then, with a jolt, Su Tong noticed two train police officers lying bloodied at the assailants’ feet. One still had a pistol at his waist, only partially drawn. One of the thugs was stealthily crouching, his hand reaching for the officer’s sidearm.

“Didn’t you hear me? It’s too dangerous in there. Get back!” the attendant called again.

Su Tong took a deep breath and fished a rubber band from his pocket. “Open the door. I’m going in.”

Everyone near the compartment door stared at him in shock. They had all barely escaped with their lives—who would be mad enough to go back in?

“Kid, those people inside are vicious. Don’t go in.”

“That’s right, they’re animals—killing anyone they see. Don’t try to play the hero.”

“If not for that tall young man stepping in, there’d be even more dead. I saw the police rush in, but before they could draw their guns, one was ambushed by a thug hiding in the crowd—his fate uncertain.”

“Let the train stop at the next station and have the police handle it. We ordinary folks should stay as far away as possible.”

A chorus of shaken survivors pleaded with him.

Expressionless, Su Tong replied, “I’m an undercover detective. I once won first place in the national police tournament. The people need me now—how can I hide? Open the door and let me in.”

He lied without a second thought—even inventing a police tournament he wasn’t sure existed. The attendant and the traumatized passengers, knowing even less, were left stupefied.

“A detective?”

“Best of the police?”

Their minds reeled. Was this boy, who looked like a student, really a policeman among policemen?

“Didn’t you hear me? Every second we delay could cost another life,” Su Tong said gravely.

Though young, his words and demeanor cowed the attendant.

Just then, a woman’s scream erupted from the next carriage. Su Tong glanced up—through the door, he saw Yang Feifei’s bodyguard on the attack again, having noticed the thug reaching for the police sidearm.

If the thug got the gun, the bodyguard’s fate would be sealed.

The attendant dared not hesitate any longer and clumsily opened the electronic door.

“Everyone down! He’s got a gun!” Su Tong barked as the door slid open.

The crowd and the attendant shrieked and dropped to the floor.

In the split second before the attendant hit the deck, Su Tong snatched the hairpin from her head and fitted it onto the rubber band.

The carriage door opened, and the thug, sensing movement, turned—his hand grasping the police pistol.

Seeing Su Tong appear, the man shouted something in a guttural dialect, face twisted with rage, and raised the gun.

Su Tong’s scalp tingled with fear. In the age of firearms, he had no idea if anyone could withstand a bullet with just flesh and blood—but he certainly couldn’t.

Though he possessed Wei Yan’s combat experience, this was Su Tong’s first real-life battle—a deadly one at that. Nervousness was unavoidable.

But he didn’t forget his hands.

He notched the “arrow,” drew the “bow,” and took aim.

Of course, his “bow and arrow” were crude and makeshift—a rubber band and a hairpin. Fortunately, the distance was short. Otherwise, with just the elasticity of a rubber band and the weight of a hairpin, even the archery skills of Wei Yan, Hou Yi, or Li Guang would be in vain.

“Whoosh!”

“Bang!”

The first sound—a nearly inaudible swish—was the “arrow” slicing through the air in the racing train.

The second was a gunshot—a crack so sharp that even the train’s vibrations and the howling wind through the shattered window couldn’t muffle it.

At the gunshot, screams erupted behind Su Tong. Everyone hugged the floor, some sobbing, others losing control of their bladders.

Su Tong’s soul nearly left his body.

Damn, that was too close—the bullet almost hit him, but instead buried itself in the carriage wall.

Most importantly, the hairpin struck the thug’s arm, making him drop the gun before he could fire again.

But the thug bent down, reaching for the weapon.

Su Tong’s heart leapt in terror. Hell, his nerves still weren’t up to it—he’d been rattled by the gunshot.

In a movie, the hero would have charged in after that shot, not hesitated—pause for a second and the audience would curse him. But real life was nothing like the movies.

There was no way back. All he could do was charge forward.

Gritting his teeth, Su Tong summoned every ounce of strength and sprinted headlong.

“Bang!”

Another shot rang out.

But—

Thank heaven, Su Tong almost wept with relief.

The hairpin had injured the thug’s arm, so this time he had to use his less skilled hand to grab the gun. In the chaos, his shot went wide.

“To hell with you, you bastard!” This time, Su Tong didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, hand slamming down hard.