Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

In the southern part of the city at the end of the year, the air was a mix of cold and heat. The cold was the draft that swept through the streets, carrying moisture from the Yangtze River that seeped straight into one's bones; the heat was in people's hearts, the anxiety of returning home, the fear of demanding unpaid wages, and the fumes from fried food along the streets, all mixed together into an invisible fire that scorched the nerves of every stranger in this foreign land.

Cang Lifeng stood under the entrance of the People's Bank of China, his steps faltering for a moment. Inside, the buzzing of people conducting business and the faint hissing of radiators filled the air; outside, the hustle and bustle of the city and the chill of the air filled the air.

He subconsciously touched his inner pocket, where he found a small amount of cash he had just received from another construction site, and a list filled with names and numbers—the hope of dozens of his fellow workers who were waiting to go home for the Spring Festival. He also carried in his arms a petition covered with his fellow workers' red handprints, and a crumpled family photo taken last year under the old locust tree in front of their house—his parents, Xiangyang, Xiaohua, and Tianci.

He came because yesterday he managed to pry information out of a junior clerk at the client's office that the always-annoying accountant, Wang, would be here at 9:30 this morning to process an urgent transfer of project funds. This was his last chance, before the New Year, to confront him face-to-face in this bank, using this recently settled cash and the expectant eyes of dozens of people behind him to force an explanation.

"Lifeng, how about... I go in with you?" came the hoarse voice of his coworker, Lao Li, from behind.

"No need, too many people will cause trouble." Cang Lifeng turned around and gave his coworkers, who were gathered at the street corner waiting for news, a reassuring look. "Wait outside and keep an eye on everyone. I'll go in and meet him."

After saying that, he took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and walked into the bank.

The bank's interior was spacious, befitting a large state-owned bank. The terrazzo floor gleamed, and the walls were painted a faded light green. A heavy, chest-high wooden counter stood before the tall teller counter, its paint a somber color. Behind the counter were sturdy iron railings. On one wall of the lobby, a brass sign reading "Safety Box for Rent" gleamed coldly under the fluorescent lights.

A security guard, around fifty years old, wearing an old-fashioned uniform. A worn-out Type 54 pistol was tucked into a leather holster at his waist.

This morning, the bank had just received a significant cash withdrawal and several boxes of valuables that needed to be stored, so they temporarily issued him this gun and repeatedly instructed him to be extra vigilant. Initially, he was indeed extremely cautious, his eyes scanning everyone entering the lobby like a hawk. But several hours passed, and everything seemed normal, so his tense nerves involuntarily relaxed. He felt this was making a mountain out of a molehill—such an incident had never occurred in the southern part of the city since the founding of the People's Republic.

At this moment, although his gaze still habitually swept over the queue, the sharpness had quietly faded, replaced by a lingering weariness.

Among the waiting crowd, a pregnant woman with a prominent belly was being supported by a middle-aged woman, resting against the wall, holding a queue number in her hand.

Cang Lifeng's gaze swept over the long queues, taking in the anxious faces of the workers. He couldn't help but think of the excuses he'd made on the phone last night, the deep anticipation on his coworkers' faces, and his parents' increasingly hunched backs…

He was the eldest son, the eldest brother, the backbone of this group. He couldn't let this responsibility fall on him. He searched carefully among the crowd, not missing a single similar figure. Time ticked by, and it was already past 9:30. Had the information been wrong, or had Accountant Wang changed his plans at the last minute? A sense of anxiety began to spread in his heart.

Just as he was feeling anxious—

"Bang!"

With a loud bang, a shimmering silver spiderweb burst open in the center of the heavy glass door, transforming into a cascading waterfall of shattered glass that sprayed against the light. Glass shards, like deadly hailstones, whistled and shot into the room, carrying the biting wind from outside.

"Don't move! We're robbing a bank!"

Three burly men, their heads hooded and wearing black nylon stockings, their fierce eyes barely visible, swept in like a whirlwind. The leader carried a double-barreled shotgun with its barrel sawed off; one on his left held a Type 54 pistol, and the other on his right gripped a machete in reverse.

"Everyone fucking put your heads down and squat down! Anyone who moves gets shot!" The shotgun-wielding thug's roar was like a thunderclap, instantly shattering all order and hope within the bank.

Terrified screams, desperate cries, and the clatter of objects falling to the ground mingled together. The chilling aura of death, like an invisible hand, gripped everyone's throat.

The security guard jumped in surprise, instinctively reaching for his gun holster, and shouted, "What are you doing...?"

Before he could finish speaking, the gunman lunged forward and smashed the butt of his pistol into his forehead. He groaned, blood gushing out instantly, and he staggered to the ground, the pistol slipping from his hand and falling to the floor. The gunman with the machete swiftly picked it up and tucked it into his back pocket. Now, with three gunmen, two pistols, and a shotgun, their firepower had instantly increased.

Cang Lifeng's body contracted abruptly like a compressed spring when the door shattered. He ducked down, covered his head with his hands, and used the crowd and the heavy countertop as cover to disappear into a corner.

His heartbeat was steady and strong. Although he had only mastered the basics of the Hidden Dragon Technique, his faint perception of the flow of energy around him was now aroused by the extremely dangerous environment, giving him an unusually keen sense of the violent and chaotic "energy" emanating from the three thugs. In the blink of an eye, the triangular formation of the three men, the superiority or inferiority of their weapons, and the panicked state of the crowd were etched into his mind like a brand.

"Third brother, keep an eye on them. Second brother, come with me." The shotgun-wielding robber pointed the barrel of his gun at the iron door behind the counter, his voice hoarse. The pistol-wielding robber immediately stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of his gun against the temple of a young female employee, and forced her toward the heavy iron door.

Time stretched out in the extreme terror, each second feeling like torture on a rough whetstone. The machete-wielding thug kept glancing at the clock on the wall, while the shotgun-wielding thug paced anxiously, his gun unconsciously sweeping across the crouching crowd, eliciting suppressed sobs. That cold, despairing sense of impending slaughter permeated every corner.

Suddenly, a painful groan drew everyone's attention. It was the pregnant woman who had groaned. She had been jostled and pushed by the panicked crowd, sliding down the wall and collapsing to the ground. Her face was deathly pale, and her hands were clutching her abdomen tightly. The nanny, terrified, helped her up, crying out in a trembling voice, "Help! Someone help me!"

"Ah—my…baby…is coming out! Help…help me!" Between the pregnant woman's legs, warm amniotic fluid quickly spread a wet patch on the ground.

"Damn it! What a fucking bad luck!" The thug with the machete took a half step back in disgust, brandished his machete as if to slash, and shouted sharply, "Shut up, or I'll kill you first!"

The nanny was immediately choked and could only sob softly.

Just then, the first faint sound of a police siren finally came from afar!

Like a stone thrown into a stagnant pond, the three thugs tensed instantly, their ferocity replaced by a hint of panic. The thug with the shotgun abruptly turned towards the door, straining to listen.

The sound of sirens grew louder as they approached, quickly spreading and intertwining from a few scattered sirens until they formed a continuous chorus around the bank.

"Damn, the cops got here so fast!" the shotgun-wielding thug cursed.

He abruptly turned his gun towards the crowd and shouted, "Listen up, all of you! If the police dare to come in, I'll take you down with me! Line up and move into the VIP room, quick!"

Under the threat of gunfire, the crowd, like lambs to the slaughter, wept and pushed their way into a more secluded area deeper within the bank. The pregnant woman, barely supported by her nanny and another middle-aged woman, her face deathly pale, was drenched in amniotic fluid, leaving intermittent wet trails on the ground. Every step she took felt like walking on knives; cold sweat and tears mingled on her pale face, suppressed, painful sobs escaping her throat. She was practically hanging on the two women, staggering forward. The suppressed sobs, the child's whimpers, the heavy breathing of the assailants, and their anxious pacing created a suffocating atmosphere.

At this moment, the sirens outside the bank mostly stopped after they had surrounded the area, leaving only one or two police cars with their roof lights still silently rotating. A calm before the storm enveloped the area. Then, the loudspeaker outside the bank's main entrance blared, broadcasting a deep, amplified male voice:

"Listen up, you inside! You are surrounded. Please do not harm the hostages. Releasing the hostages and laying down your weapons is your only way out. State your conditions. Again, do not harm the hostages!"

"Conditions? My condition is that you get out of here. Get me a car, fill it up with gas, and if I don't see the car in ten minutes, I'm going to start killing the hostages." The shotgun-wielding thug roared at the door, then suddenly pointed his gun at the crowd. "You, you, and you, get out there and stand there so the cops outside can see clearly."

The individuals named, including the pregnant woman and the nanny, were roughly dragged by the gun-wielding and knife-wielding assailants to the vicinity of the bank entrance, becoming "human shields" facing the police's firepower. The pregnant woman's moans grew weaker, and the wetness beneath her body was mixed with streaks of bright red.