Chapter Fourteen: A Different Kind of Battle

After a short while, the wingman realized the leader’s plane might not be able to pull up. He called out urgently, “Leader, leader, activate the ejection system immediately! I’ll cover you until rescue arrives.”

Hearing this, Dal Kind was instantly displeased. From his perspective, the failure of his previous mission had already ruined his reputation. If he had to eject again this time, it would be an admission of his own weakness. Even if the wingman successfully intercepted the enemy, the credit would belong solely to the wingman, and perhaps from then on, their roles would reverse. After all, the wingman, though recognized as gifted, had only been in service for three months, whereas Dal Kind was a veteran of nearly ten years.

If, on the other hand, the wingman failed to intercept, Dal Kind would never again be able to hold his head high among his peers. He simply could not allow either outcome. He shouted at the wingman, “You fool, what nonsense are you spouting? How dare you suggest I can’t handle this? Now climb and pursue the enemy immediately! I’ll catch up and assist you shortly—go!”

The wingman replied promptly, preparing to fire. He quickly assessed the situation, discerning the enemy’s intentions, but remained calm as he maneuvered toward the target.

Both sides entered a critical zone, and the mysterious craft from the sea opened fire. Unexpectedly, the wingman skillfully dodged the attack with a shallow dive, then looped upward in a tight circle, locked onto the enemy’s tail, and attacked—successfully disabling the target.

Once the target’s propulsion was destroyed, the wingman did not continue attacking. Below them lay a small island—not directly beneath, but close enough that the sea was shallow. This meant if the target crashed, there would be no explosion nor chance for it to sink and escape.

The wingman radioed headquarters: “HQ, HQ, the leader’s plane was hit and is attempting to recover. The target has been shot down by me and is descending onto a shallow area near an island. Please send backup immediately. I’ll patrol overhead to secure the site.”

Headquarters promptly replied, “Excellent work. Maintain a holding pattern over the area; reinforcements are already en route and should arrive shortly.”

The wingman responded, “Understood!” and began circling above, patrolling the scene.

Checking on the leader, he discovered that Dal Kind’s plane had also crashed, stranded on the sandbar below. Dal Kind, however, still had not activated his ejection system. Despite his disabled aircraft, he was persistently trying to restart it, hoping to become airborne again, but nothing worked.

The downed target was not far away. Seeing this, the wingman radioed, “Leader, do you need assistance?”

Dal Kind, still struggling with his controls, shouted back, “Shut up!”

…

Meanwhile, dusk had finally fallen. Outside Thunder Rock Stronghold near the Western Capital, the chief of Cloud Peak Stronghold, Blackbeard, grew impatient and grumbled, “Those fools from Thunder Rock are really asking for it. Their leader is gone, I gave them a chance, and they ignored it. Don’t blame me for being ruthless now.”

His attendant echoed eagerly, “That’s right, boss! Let’s go in and teach those arrogant idiots a lesson!”

The others agreed in unison. Blackbeard shouted to his men, “Good! That stronghold ahead is full of gold, silver, and jewels—a fat prize. Go on, it’s all yours!”

Cheers erupted as the bandits of Cloud Peak charged forward.

Meanwhile, every resident of Woodstone Village had hidden in the stronghold’s secret chamber and were quietly transporting everything inside through a concealed passage back to their village.

Zhang Desen, however, remained outside, concealed in a tree near the chamber’s building, observing the unfolding events. He hoped to seize this opportunity to capture Blackbeard, forcing him to disband Cloud Peak Stronghold and eliminate the threat.

The presence of these bandits posed a major problem. If they learned that Woodstone Village had taken Thunder Rock’s treasures, they might cause trouble for the villagers. What was meant to improve the villagers’ lives could turn into a dangerous burden—something Zhang Desen wanted to avoid.

Should things go awry and the situation spiral out of control, Zhang Desen was prepared to withdraw and seek another opportunity. He wasn’t one to fight recklessly without a plan.

Confident in his abilities, Zhang Desen believed he had a good chance of succeeding, and if not, he was sure he could retreat safely and unnoticed.

Soon, he saw the distant gates of Thunder Rock Stronghold smashed open by the bandits, who poured inside, searching room by room, house by house, but found nothing. This infuriated Blackbeard, who exclaimed, “This is absurd! Where have they all gone? We’ve blocked the only entrance—how could they have escaped?”

The strategist at his side replied, “Chief, when we arrived this afternoon, we saw people shutting the gates and carrying supplies—we thought they were preparing to defend. Now, suddenly, no one’s here. That means either they’re hidden so well we can’t find them, or they’ve already left.”

Blackbeard retorted, “No way they’re hiding. The stronghold isn’t that big; where could they possibly go? But there’s no way they got out—they only have one entrance. What, did they fly out?”

The strategist answered, “Of course not, Chief. Even if they could fly, our men would have seen it. But hear me out—I’m convinced they escaped through a tunnel.”

Blackbeard was startled, and even Zhang Desen, hidden in the tree, was surprised by the strategist’s insight. The strategist continued, “Chief, do you remember a month ago, we drank with Thunder Rock’s leaders in the peach grove?”

“I remember,” Blackbeard replied.

“Well, that day, I got a few of their aides drunk and pressed them for secrets about their stronghold. In their drunken boasting, they let slip that there’s a secret tunnel—only their chief has the key, and the entrance is hidden in a secret chamber. They didn’t get to say where exactly before passing out.”

Blackbeard roared, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

The strategist explained, “Forgive me, Chief. This afternoon, seeing their chief dead and the others present, I assumed no one would know or have the key, so I didn’t think it important. But don’t worry—even if they’re in the tunnel, they won’t get far.”

“Why not?” Blackbeard demanded.

“Think about it, Chief. Over the years, they’ve amassed a fortune in gold and jewels, mostly stored in the secret chamber. They couldn’t possibly move it all in one day.”

Eyes gleaming, the strategist went on, “With the tunnel connecting directly to the chamber, they wouldn’t abandon such treasure. No one would. And there’s no way they could finish moving everything so quickly.”

He surveyed the surroundings and said, “So even if they started this morning, they wouldn’t be done yet. If we hurry and find the entrance, we’re sure to find plenty left behind. The chamber must be near the chief’s quarters—those are always the best rooms. If we search them carefully, we’ll find it.”

“Good, move now!” Blackbeard ordered.

The bandits immediately split up to search for the entrance as instructed. Meanwhile, Zhang Desen’s expression darkened considerably.

He hadn’t anticipated this unexpected twist—the strategist’s knowledge and deductive skills were formidable. In Zhang Desen’s own world, such a man would have made an excellent detective. Here, however, he was aiding the villains.

If he remained alive, he could pose a serious threat to Woodstone Village, especially if the operation failed and he deduced the villagers’ involvement.

Determined, Zhang Desen resolved that, no matter what happened, he must eliminate this strategist—even if everything else went awry. Leaving such trouble alive would guarantee endless unrest.

He watched as the bandits spread out toward the best-looking houses. The strategist, wary of danger, kept many guards nearby.

Zhang Desen decided not to hesitate any longer. He raised his Type-95 assault rifle, chambered a round, and set his sights on his target.