Courtyard House: Home Alone

The third hiding place was a pharmacy called "Songhetang," whose Chinese characters on the signboard were crooked and looked like a clumsy attempt at imitation.

Lin Yifan's mental energy penetrated the wooden door, allowing him to "see" two agents armed with pistols hiding behind the counter, and three Black Dragon Society members polishing their samurai swords in the woodshed in the backyard. In the bottom drawer of the medicine cabinet, several packets of arsenic and opium paste were tightly wrapped in oil paper.

He didn't go through the main gate. In a flash, he appeared next to the pickling vat in the backyard, the brine inside still emitting a sour and rotten smell.

Before the three Black Dragon Society members could even look up, three bloody holes appeared on their foreheads. When the agents in the front hall turned around at the sound of the noise, they were greeted by two bullets flying through the gap in the counter—Lin Yifan's mental power had already locked onto their hearts.

By 1:20 PM, he had cleared fourteen hiding places. The encirclement laid by the Special Higher Police was like a fishing net riddled with worms, with a huge gap torn in the east.

Lin Yifan stood on the roof of a three-story Western-style building, the wind on the Haihe River lifting the hem of his clothes. From here, the spire of the Sacred Heart Cathedral looked like a dagger pointing to the sky against the hazy horizon.

His mental energy spread out again, and he "saw" Kita Seiichi sitting in the Special Higher Police Headquarters office, with Tokyo military music playing on the radio in front of him.

The Japanese major was unaware that nearly a third of the more than 600 men he had dispatched had been lost, and the death toll was increasing at a rate of three to five people per minute.

Soon, it was 1:55. A black Citroën sedan carrying Pierre Dupont and Chen Gongshu stopped in the church's backyard, and the delivery trucks of Xu Zheng, Liu Quande, and Qi Haishan were also not far away.

At this time, Lin Yifan had just cleared the outer perimeter, and now only a dozen or so Special Higher Police members and about a squad of thirty or so Japanese soldiers remained hiding in the church.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, drank a few mouthfuls of the spiritual spring, and the cool liquid slid down his throat, instantly turning into a warm current that flowed through his limbs and bones.

After more than two hours of intense teleportation and mental scanning, even he felt a bit tired. The effects of the spiritual spring quickly took hold; the throbbing pain in his temples subsided, and his vision became clear and sharp again.

The mental focus returned to the Sacred Heart Church. The thirty-odd Japanese soldiers were scattered in three locations: the confessional, the bell tower, and the crypt. The Special Higher Police agents, disguised as praying believers, sat on benches. One of them, a Japanese man in a black priest's robe, stood to the side of the altar, his fingers unconsciously stroking the Type 14 Nambu pistol hidden in his sleeve.

Pierre Dupont had already climbed out of the Citroën. The French businessman was wearing an oversized camel coat today, and his right hand was always in his pocket—presumably where he concealed his weapon.

His driver arrived at the door first and knocked. Soon, footsteps came from inside, and the two double doors were opened from the inside.

Pierre went in first, followed half a step behind by Chen Gongshu, whose gaze swept over every corner of the church's backyard before finally settling on the truck in the middle of the yard.

At that moment, four burly foreign men jumped out from the back of the truck, making a total of five people including the one who opened the door. They approached Pierre and respectfully greeted him, "Boss!"

Pierre nodded, then turned to Chen Gongshu: "Mr. Zhou, when will your goods arrive?"

"Mr. DuPont, our goods will arrive shortly..."

Just then, the sound of an engine came from the doorway. Chen Gongshu smiled and said, "They're here!"

Meanwhile, Lin Yifan had already cleared out the Japanese soldiers on the clock tower and was now appearing behind the group disguised as believers.

Just as the fake priest was surprised by Lin Yifan's sudden appearance, a series of "thud-thud..." sounds of bullets piercing skulls reached his ears, and at the same time, everything went black and he fell silent.

Even the wooden planks of the confessional couldn't stop Lin Yifan's bullets, and the two spies who were lying in ambush inside also went to see their aunt.

Then, he teleported to the underground tomb in the backyard, where there were twenty fully armed Japanese soldiers. However, their attention was focused on the two iron doors outside, where Pierre and Chen Gongshu were conducting a transaction.

Lin Yifan, who appeared behind them, immediately fired bullets from the space. There was another series of rapid "beep beep..." sounds. When the Japanese soldiers who were close to the iron gate heard the sound and tried to turn around, they found that the Type 38 rifles with bayonets were too much of a hindrance. Before they could adjust themselves, they were all hit and fell down.

After Lin Yifan put away their weapons and ammunition, he did not go out immediately, but waited behind the iron gate.

At this moment, the transaction outside was nearing its end, and Xu Zheng's voice came through his earpiece, "Young master, the transaction is complete, the amount of gold is correct, what's the next step?"

"Just put the gold on the truck. Have Chen Gongshu go straight back to the hotel to arrange tomorrow's deal with the Germans. You can leave after you hear the explosion outside," Lin Yifan said.

"Okay, I understand. I'll tell the station manager right away." With that, Xu Zheng ended the call.

Meanwhile, in the underground tomb, Lin Yifan's mind stirred, and hundreds of grenades, delayed by three seconds, simultaneously appeared in the Tianjin Japanese Special Higher Police Section. Two grenades appeared right at Kita Seiichi's feet.

Kita Seiichi looked down at the slightly rippling surface of the water in his teacup, his brow furrowing. The ripples weren't circular, but rather displayed a strange radial pattern, as if something was surging upwards from the depths of the earth.

Then, the world turned white.

The sound of the explosions swept across the entire Special Higher Science and Technology University compound in fractions of a second. The combined effect of hundreds of grenades tore the three-story office building to pieces.

The second floor where Kita Seiichi was located collapsed directly into the first floor, and flames spewed out from every window, like a giant beast awakening and roaring.

The remaining agents and Black Dragon Society members gathered in the courtyard were thrown into the air by the blast wave, then slammed heavily against the walls and utility poles, turning into a jumble of blood and flesh.

In the church's backyard, Pierre Dupont's men had just loaded the last box of medicine onto the truck when he was jolted back by a muffled thud from afar. He steadied himself against the truck bed, the hem of his camel-colored overcoat billowing in the sudden gust of wind, revealing a well-tailored waistcoat underneath.

"What's that sound?" he asked, his French thick with a Marseille accent, his eyes wide with surprise.

Chen Gongshu reacted much faster. As soon as the explosion was heard, he ducked and hid behind the truck's rear wheel, his right hand instinctively reaching for the pistol at his waist.

"Mr. DuPont,"

Chen Gongshu's voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather, "That was 'Ghost's' greeting gift to the Japanese. Because the Japanese are like bedbugs, disgusting."

Pierre's expression changed three times in a few seconds—from astonishment to fear, and finally settled on a shrewd calculation typical of a businessman.