(For Chapter 1-163, go to (https://chrysanthemumgarden.com/novel-tl/awbtv/))
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Whether in the worlds he had traveled through, or in the memory fragments he had already recovered, this was far from the first time Chu Yunsheng had a gun pointed at his head.
Being targeted by a gun, the bullet poised but not yet fired, would still bring him an acute sense of danger. Yet after experiencing it so often, this sort of everyday occurrence no longer frightened him, nor did it cause him to lose composure.
In fact, seeing how the man's hands wavered with the bumps of the car, Chu Yunsheng was fully confident that he could seize the gun and counterattack within a single second.
But he didn't want to do that.
Dusk was settling.
City lights were flickering on as evening deepened. Two cars sped wildly along the dockside road by the river, kicking up clouds of dust. In the distance, over the sea, a vast patch of sunset clouds ignited—orange-gold, and at their deepest edges, thick as spilled blood.
"Faster!"
The man in the passenger seat growled, pressing the gun harder against the driver's temple, veins bulging across his hand.
He kept jerking his head back to look at the pursuing car through the rear window.
"Stop!"
"Ah—!!"
As the chase tore forward, startled pedestrians and dockworkers scattered in panic.
Cargo crates blocking the way were slammed aside with loud crashes. Bullets streaked through the air, muzzle flashes erupting.
The people secretly protecting Chu Yunsheng held back—they were mindful of civilians, firing cautiously and unable to unleash their full strength.
But soon, as the cars looped farther along the docks, the surroundings grew desolate. Once there were few people around, the gunfire immediately turned unrestrained. Bullet after bullet aimed directly at the tires, attempting to force a brutal stop.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Gunshots thundered in their ears.
The car shot past the corner, skidding violently into a long, staggering arc. A spray of sparks burst out beneath it, and the next second, a tire exploded with a heavy, muffled boom.
Cold sweat instantly beaded across the driver's forehead. He covertly darted a glance at Chu Yunsheng in the back seat.
To avoid stray bullets, Chu Yunsheng had abandoned any semblance of idol composure and was crouching beside the rear seat, bracing himself with one hand. Even so, during the violent jolts and sharp turns, his back repeatedly slammed into the car door, nearly knocking it open.
He met the driver's gaze, but his face remained expressionless. Under the flashing, uneven light, his fine and elegant features were hard to distinguish.
"The tire…"
the driver murmured.
"Don't worry about it! Keep driving!"
His words were cut off abruptly by the man's harsh bark.
The vehicle shuddered and lurched like a headless fly, crashing madly forward, managing only to maintain a roughly straight direction.
One blast after another burst from the damaged tires, the jolts so fierce it felt like they would be thrown out of the car.
The kidnapper's expression twisted further, a hint of anxiety flickering in his eyes.
Watching the changes in the man's face, Chu Yunsheng suddenly spoke—in Dongyang: "Perhaps your comrades have abandoned you."
The man's finger tightened on the trigger. He looked at Chu Yunsheng with a flicker of astonishment in his eyes, clearly not expecting him to speak Dongyang—nor to have guessed that he was from the Eastern Isles.
But he still showed no particular expression, acting as though he hadn't heard a word. He clearly had no intention of speaking with the hostage.
However, Chu Yunsheng had no intention of falling silent.
His voice was calm and even, a sharp, cold blade cutting through the chaotic roar of gunfire—startling and icy. "Judging from your reaction, you're more worried than suspicious. Which means you believe your comrades would never abandon you. More likely, they've encountered some unexpected situation and can't come to your aid yet. Or perhaps the timing simply isn't optimal for them to appear."
The man's brows tightened. His gaze drifted, involuntarily, toward a certain point ahead.
Chu Yunsheng said, "It seems it's the former."
"You mother—!"
Shocked, the man cursed reflexively. "Shut up!"
He glared at Chu Yunsheng, viciousness flashing across his face. His grip on the gun tightened, as though he might pull the trigger at any moment.
"Careful you don't misfire."
Chu Yunsheng glanced at him, speaking in an even tone. "Unless you plan to corner yourselves completely, what you want is me alive. I'm worth more that way than as a corpse."
"But it seems you won't be getting that chance."
The man realized something was wrong and snapped his head around.
But it was already too late.
From two cargo ships docked by the river, several gun barrels appeared as silently and suddenly as ghosts.
A streak of bright red muzzle flame burst out—followed by a storm of bullets.
The man in the passenger seat immediately pulled the trigger, intending to kill Chu Yunsheng before he died.
But the Chu Yunsheng who had always appeared gentle and scholarly in his eyes had already anticipated his intent. At the exact moment he fired, Chu Yunsheng tilted his body aside and chopped his palm across the man's wrist, snatching the gun from his hand.
"You—!"
The word was cut short.
Blooms of blood burst across his body; within the blink of an eye, he was riddled with bullets like a sieve.
The very instant the first bullet hit, the driver had already sensed danger and ducked down in a panic.
He jerked the steering wheel wildly and floored the accelerator. The car windows shattered with sharp bangs. Two more tires blew out. The vehicle completely lost control, shrieking like a small boat tossed in a violent storm.
"Mr. Chu, be careful!"
Chu Yunsheng shoved the kidnapper's gun into a highly visible spot, then shouted loudly: "Jump!"
The order Yu Jingzhi had given the driver was to follow Chu Yunsheng's instructions completely, so the driver didn't hesitated at all. The moment he heard the shout, he kicked open the door, shielded his head, and leapt out.
Amid roaring smoke and dust, the bullet-riddled car slammed into a small shed by the roadside. The flimsy structure collapsed halfway in an instant, burying the front of the vehicle and finally stopping its frantic charge.
Chu Yunsheng's head struck the car door with a heavy thud. Warm blood trickled down his temple. A brief wave of dizziness and ringing filled his senses.
He closed his eyes for a moment, coughed twice, then forcefully kicked open the slightly warped rear door and climbed out of the car.
But the instant he stepped out, the familiar cold touch of metal pressed against his back without warning.
He slowly turned around. From within the dusty dimness of the half-collapsed shed, two armed foreigners emerged from the shadows.
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
In this kidnapping of intertwining layers, the true kidnappers had finally arrived.
Two minutes later.
The cars chasing to protect Chu Yunsheng broke through the blockade from the two cargo ships and reached the shed—only to find the unconscious driver who had jumped out, and the dead kidnapper in the passenger seat. By the riverbank, there was no one else in sight.
"Damn it!"
"Mr. Chu is gone—there are other forces involved!"
"...It was those two cargo ships!"
Someone finally reacted and rushed toward the dock, but the ships that had abruptly intervened in the gunfight had clearly anticipated this. They were already pulling away from the pier, heading toward the open sea. Painted prominently on their hulls was a short string of English letters.
Twenty minutes later, Yu Jingzhi arrived at the riverside docks.
His expression was icy; his eyes dark and heavy. As he listened to his subordinates' report, he drew a military knife, used it to pry a bullet from the body of the dead kidnapper, and examined it carefully under the lantern's glow.
Liu Er said, "Sir, this is foreign-made. Before you took control of the police station, the Yinglun-run station in the Faguo Concession mostly used this kind of ammunition. And those two ships that left the dock—they were Yinglunships. We had no authority to detain or inspect them. They've already gone out to sea."
(TN: 英伦 (Yinglun) → Britain / British)
"Colluding with the Yinglun… Could it be those bastards from Tianming Society?" someone muttered. "But if that's the case, isn't it too blatant? Almost like they're not afraid of anything?"
Another man shook his head. "Not necessarily."
Yu Jingzhi tossed the bloodstained bullet to Liu Er, opened the car door, and got into the back seat. Wearing white gloves, his fingers moved deftly across crevices and corners, pressing and brushing with practiced precision.
A few seconds later, he pulled a folded slip of paper from the gap between the backseat cushions.
On the paper was a line of powerful, vigorous handwriting listing three nouns: "Yinglun, Deyizhi, Dongyang." Judging from the handwriting and the wear on the paper, it had clearly been written long ago. But compared to its original state, the words Yinglun and Dongyang were now partially blotted out by two smears of blood.
As though the writer were performing an elimination process—leaving only one answer perfectly clear.
"Adams…!"
Yu Jingzhi stared at those two marks of blood. Murderous intent surged violently between his brows, coiled and silent yet suffocating.
In truth, faced with the possibility of a sudden kidnapping, Chu Yunsheng and he had long been prepared. Ever since Chu Yunsheng revealed his value—ever since the emergence of modern medicines and antibiotics—they both knew that sooner or later, this day would come.
No deception could remain hidden from the growing number of watching eyes.
Yet when the day actually arrived—when he was sitting in the Yu residence and received word of Chu Yunsheng's abduction, when he rushed here only to see the empty, bullet-riddled car—an overwhelming terror swept through him in an instant, swallowing every other emotion like a tsunami.
He was unable to suppress the fear and dread.
This feeling… was far too familiar.
His fingers slowly clenched around the slip of paper, tightening bit by bit.
Yu Jingzhi's tightly knit brows gradually loosened.
He lifted his gaze, and within his pupils a whirlpool-like dark light flickered—vanishing in an instant, as though for that brief moment, it connected to the other half of a long-slumbering soul.
"Head to the Faguo Concession."
He slammed the car door shut with a bang, his voice icy.
…
Near the border with the Faguo Concession stood a snow-white Western-style house along the river.
Thick rose vines draped down the tall walls on all four sides. With servants tending them regularly, the lush greenery spread unchecked, tendrils climbing across the surrounding structures as though trying to swallow everything nearby.
On the second floor of the house, in a corridor flanked by deep brown walls, Chu Yunsheng was escorted at gunpoint to an ornately carved Ouhua-style door.
"Mr. Adams, we've brought the man."
One of the foreigners knocked respectfully.
There was no verbal response, but footsteps approached from deeper inside.
Soon, the door opened. A foreigner in a vest and suit stepped out. He lifted his chin slightly, signaling the others to restrain Chu Yunsheng's arms. "We must first ensure Mr. Adams' safety—even if this is supposedly a gentle, harmless doctor."
"Yes, Mr. Louis." The man who had knocked smiled obsequiously, moved close to Chu Yunsheng, and wrenched his arms behind his back.
Chu Yunsheng stood there with an expression and posture that were indeed gentle and harmless, offering no resistance.
Louis reached into Chu Yunsheng's trouser pocket and pulled out a gun. His expression darkened. "And what do we have here? Mr. Adams was right—none of that Mr. Yu's people are truly clean. Failing to search him beforehand—that was your mistake."
The foreigner holding Chu Yunsheng immediately panicked and tried to explain, "Mr. Louis—"
Louis raised a hand, cutting him off. Then he pushed open the door behind him and made a courteous gesture toward Chu Yunsheng, smiling as he spoke fluent Huaguo: "Doctor Chu, please come in."
"Mr. Adams admires your talent and specially invited you for a conversation."
As he spoke, his eyes kept roaming over the guest they had brought in.
Unexpectedly calm expression.
Eyes cold and utterly unruffled…
Louis felt that this man was unlike the many guests who had been forcibly brought here before. He was too composed—so composed it was as if he weren't about to step into a den of wolves and tigers, but simply walking into a roadside restaurant.
"Mr. Louis, I know you."
Chu Yunsheng glanced at him and said softly in Deyizhi.
A strange look…
Louis frowned slightly.
But before he could scrutinize it further, Chu Yunsheng had already brushed past him and stepped inside.
It was a study.
A dark red, old carpet covered the entire floor, though it was not soft underfoot—cold and firm beneath its weave. Heavy dark velvet drapes hung down, their corners trailing on the ground, revealing half of a wall cabinet behind them. On the cabinet were antique Ouhua-patterned ornaments; the edges of the cabinet doors were wrapped with bronze fittings, already worn with age.
An electric light hung above the cabinet, illuminating a broad armchair nearby—and seated in it was a man with a cold, hard face and a sly smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Hello, Dr. Chu. I apologize for inviting you over in such an impolite manner, but you must believe me—although the method may be lacking in courtesy, my sincerity toward every guest is exactly the same."
Adams pointed to the chair across from him, leaned forward to pour some wine, and said with a smile, "Please, have a seat. I think you'll enjoy having a drink while we chat."
"There's no need to apologize, Mr. Adams. I'm quite satisfied with your method of invitation, and I'm happy to talk with you."
Chu Yunsheng said calmly, "But I would prefer that we change the way we're having this conversation."
Adams's smile froze, his hand pausing mid-pour.
He slowly lifted his gaze—only to meet the narrow, pitch-black muzzle of a gun.
The man who had been several meters away just moments ago was now suddenly, silently standing right in front of him. Chu Yunsheng's lifted right hand held a compact pistol that no one had noticed him draw.
With a sharp metallic click, the slide was pulled back, letting out a faint whiff of gunpowder.
Adams narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Chu Yunsheng's movements, searching for an opening. He was just about to issue an order when he saw Chu Yunsheng suddenly pick up the fruit knife on the table. With a flick of his wrist, the knife shot out like a thrown dart, slicing straight into the heavy dark velvet curtain that hung half to the side.
The curtain rippled slightly.
A short, muffled groan sounded. A tall figure collapsed against the curtain and fell to the floor along with it. He lay motionless. The only thing exposed was his head, with blood steadily trickling from his temple—pierced by a silver blade that glinted coldly.
"Mr. Adams?"
Someone outside seemed to have heard the commotion and called out in inquiry.
Adams slowly smoothed all expression from his face.
"It's nothing, Louis," he said. "Just a passing rat."