Chapter 398: The Woman From The Radio
The truck’s roof peeled open as Yuche folded the armor plates outward.
Steel screamed above the trapped men, and one of the guards fired through the gap before he could even understand what was happening. His rifle collapsed around his hands, crushing the bones with the metal.
Lingyun climbed onto the hood and looked down into the ruined command vehicle.
Four men remained inside, with Qiao Ren seated in the center in a grey coat over body armor. Most of the color had drained from his face, but he was still looking more offended than actually frightened.
"You’re injured," Qiao Ren pointed out like that was a point in his favor.
Lingyun glanced at the blood spreading through the bandages beneath his shirt. "So people keep telling me."
"You can’t hold this market. Head Luo had agreements you don’t understand," Qiao Ren continued like the two of them were sitting in the middle of a conference room and not the middle of a battlefield.
"Head Luo’s dead."
Qiao Ren’s jaw tightened. "Then those agreements transfer to whoever takes his place."
Lingyun smiled at him. "That would be me."
The guard closest to Qiao Ren reached for a handgun, but Lingyun burned through his wrist before he could raise it. Another man lunged upward with a knife, forcing Lingyun to shift across his damaged ribs. Pain tore through his side, bright enough to sharpen everything around him, but he caught the man’s arm and dragged him halfway through the opening.
The guard screamed when Lingyun pressed a burning hand against his face. Skin blistered beneath his palm, and one eye ruptured before Lingyun released him and let the body fall back into the truck.
Qiao Ren stared at what remained of his guard’s face.
"You attacked while I was injured," Lingyun said. "That was probably the smartest move you’ve made in a while."
He reached into the vehicle and caught the last armed man by the throat. "Sending people after Rouxi wasn’t."
The man shook his head as much as Lingyun’s grip allowed. "That was one of Head Luo’s men. We were told she was leverage."
Lingyun’s smile widened. "And he was right."
Fire entered the man’s open mouth and travelled down his throat. His body convulsed while smoke leaked from his nose, and Lingyun watched until he stopped struggling before dropping him beside the others.
Qiao Ren backed away until his shoulders struck the truck’s crushed side. "You need me alive."
"Yuche does. I don’t need anything from you."
Lingyun dropped through the open roof before Qiao Ren could respond. The rival leader swung first, driving his fist into Lingyun’s injured ribs hard enough to empty his lungs and darken his vision. When Qiao Ren tried to strike him again, Lingyun caught the fist and laughed.
The sound filled the ruined truck, and Qiao Ren finally began to look afraid.
Lingyun burned through the tendons in one hand before doing the same to the other. He kept the flames small enough to leave Qiao Ren conscious, then grabbed the back of his coat and hauled him through the opening. Yuche had lowered part of the truck’s metal into a ramp, allowing Lingyun to drag the rival leader onto the pavement.
"How many are left?" Lingyun asked.
"Not enough to matter," Yuche replied with a shrug.
The remaining zombies pressed against the line of fire separating them from the upper warehouse.
Yuche shifted the shipping containers inward, crushing the dead between steel walls until the herd became a compacted mass of broken bodies. Lingyun sent fire through the pile, turning the freight yard into a furnace contained between metal walls.
The market and warehouses remained standing, while the surviving Red Jackals dropped their weapons.
Yuche turned toward Han Zhi. "Kill anyone who entered with them. Keep Head Luo’s traitors alive until Lingyun identifies them."
Han Zhi lowered his head. "Understood."
Lingyun dragged Qiao Ren toward the upper warehouse, allowing the man’s knees to strike every stair along the way. Blood marked their path, and the screams from the freight yard had begun fading by the time they reached Rouxi’s hallway.
His ribs throbbed with every breath, his shoulder barely moved, and dried blood cracked along his face. But none of that mattered once he saw Rouxi standing between Zhenlan and Chenghai with blood on her clothes and the baby vine curled around her shoulders.
The coldness left Lingyun’s face, replaced by the bright smile. He dropped Qiao Ren at her feet like a dog bringing back a prize to its master. "Did you want this one? We kept him for you."
-----
Lingyun delivered the man with enough enthusiasm that I was pretty sure that it didn’t matter who the man was, he just wanted to make me happy.
Such a sweet guy.
Qiao Ren landed on his knees and tipped sideways when his useless hands failed to catch him. His grey coat was torn, one side of his face had swollen, and bloody burns circled both wrists where Lingyun had destroyed whatever still allowed his fingers to move.
The clean shirt Lingyun had changed into hadn’t survived whatever had happened either.
Blood had soaked through the fresh bandages around his ribs, and his injured shoulder hung badly again, but he still looked pleased with himself.
"You broke yourself again," I pointed out, really not impressed.
"Only a little." Lingyun stepped over the prisoner and pressed himself carefully against my side.
"I left you with a healer," I reminded him even as he shook his head.
"The healer wasn’t being attacked."
"That was the point."
He kissed my temple as though that settled the argument. "I missed you too."
There was no point correcting him. Lingyun thought that most complaints were confessions of love, and he was right most of the time, which made denying it incredibly useless.
Yuche entered the corridor behind him, looking considerably cleaner despite having fought the same market. Metal continued groaning throughout the warehouse as he held damaged shutters, weapons, and gates under his control. Below us, men wearing the market’s symbol moved quietly through the aftermath, while anyone dressed in grey had surrendered or stopped moving.
Yuche checked the blood on me before turning his attention to the prisoner. "Qiao Ren. Head of the Red Jackals."
Qiao Ren dragged himself onto one hip and addressed Yuche instead of me. "This doesn’t need to end badly."
I glanced at the useless hands hanging in his lap. "It seems a little late for that."
His swollen eyes shifted toward me. "You’re the woman from the radio."
"No. According to your man, I’m the Dragon Head’s woman."
Yuche’s hand settled at my waist with a faint smile on his face as he didn’t deny anything.
Qiao Ren noticed the movement, and Lingyun immediately curled around my other side as though the claim became less convincing if he wasn’t physically included.
Zhenlan stayed close behind me, while Chenghai stood near the stairwell with his arms crossed. Neither had left to answer a radio, inspect the market, or solve a stranger’s problem.
For once, everyone I cared about remained exactly where I could see them.