I Am Extraordinary Alone
Chapter 38 - 37: Black on Black

Chapter 38: Chapter 37: Black on Black

After walking through several small alleys and crossing a not-so-wide road, the red brick wall of the bus dispatch station finally came into their view.

Loudspeakers hung on the electrical poles along the road were cyclically broadcasting prerecorded messages:

"...to the front lines, to Qiyang and Elao, the homeland needs you! Fight, compatriots! Let your blood flow for the unity of our country..."

Most of the refugees they encountered along the way were rarely young adults in their twenties but mostly middle-aged people in their forties.

The majority of young adults had been forcibly conscripted by the two factions at the start of the war, sent to the two major war zones of Qiyang City and Elao City to reinforce the lines, while many citizens trying to escape conscription fled towards the border of Yin Country with their families and set up tents.

Yin Country, among more than a dozen other East Continent nations, called for a ceasefire at the United Nations and urged the establishment of humanitarian corridors to evacuate civilians from the war zones, but both the conservative and the radical faction were merely paying lip service, their actions perfunctory.

After all, once the war began, refugees became a prime source of Medicine People, and the pharmaceutical companies backing the factions could not possibly allow the massive exodus of refugees, and the national powers behind the pharmaceutical companies also obstructed and interfered with the ceasefire resolutions at the United Nations.

The United Council dispatched peacekeeping forces to Chicken Snake Country’s Kongse City, guiding citizens from the warzone to seek refuge on their own.

Even if the conservative military had the courage of a dozen men, they would not dare to attack the refuge camp guarded by the peacekeeping forces, but they had the capability to encircle and block the refugees fleeing to Kongse, using violent means as a deterrent to other refugees.

The refugees he encountered that night had probably died in such a way.

Yaha had arranged the time and method for picking up the goods, and they just needed to enter the dispatch station through the back door and drive away the van loaded with the goods.

As they approached the back door, Wei Tianyang smelled a strong scent of gunpowder.

At first, he thought the scent originated from the "merchandise" they were about to pick up, but then, more scents mixed together, alerting him.

It was the smell of moist mud sticking to boots, the stale odor of cloth soaked with blood and sweat, and the scents of chewing gum, cigarettes, and compressed biscuits also merged into one.

He closed his eyes, and those unrelated scents tangled together, forming a robust olfactory network, surging from behind the walls of the bus dispatch station.

Starbucks took out a key from his pocket and handed it to Wei Tianyang, saying, "Go find bus number 12."

He took the key and asked, "Will there be someone waiting for us inside?"

"No, Yaha has already paid; we just need to go in and drive the vehicle away," Starbucks replied.

Wei Tianyang glanced inside the doors of the dispatch station; Kongse’s buses were small white 16-seater vans, all quietly parked in the yard’s parking shed.

The pungent smell was concentrated by the wall side, evidence of an ambush.

He gestured to keep quiet, and Starbucks understood instantly, quietly setting down the corrugated box filled with coffee beans and drawing his pistol from his waist.

"How did you notice?" Starbucks asked in a whisper.

"Instinct," Wei Tianyang replied.

He tiptoed to the wall, his fingers gliding over the red brick, his nose constantly sniffing.

Starbucks observed the surroundings, as well as Wei Tianyang, curious as to what he would do next.

Suddenly, Wei Tianyang halted, placed his fingertips on the wall, his eyes turning red.

Five Bone Knives pierced through the brick wall, his fingertips feeling a warm, smooth sensation.

Interesting.

He didn’t withdraw his hand, his right arm swept to the left across the wall, leaving behind five penetrating scars as screams emanated from the other side.

Debris mixed with flesh flew about, and the previously complex odors were now masked by a stronger scent of blood.

Starbucks pulled back the slide of his pistol, holstered his weapon to his chest, and sidled through the back door, raising his hand to aim toward the inside of the wall before slowly lowering his arm.

Beneath the wall, the soldiers’ corpses lay helter-skelter against the base, like offal discarded by a slaughterhouse from butchered cattle, sheep, and pigs.

Starbucks stepped forward to confirm the identity of the bodies and found they were all wearing the conservative faction’s military uniforms, with their weapons being outdated equipment purchased from Yin Country.

Meanwhile, Wei Tianyang had already caught up, carrying the box filled with coffee beans; his right hand wrapped in bandages was now stained black with blood.

"Nicely done, Ishmael! You’re a born Assassin!" Starbucks exclaimed with a smile.

Wei Tianyang squeezed out a smile, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Starbucks’s appraisal.

They looked down at the corpses together.

"Damn it, they wanted to take the money without delivering the goods, screwing each other over," Starbucks shook his head.

"These guns work, right?" Wei Tianyang kicked an AK47 on the ground with his foot.

"They need a bit of work, but it’s nothing troublesome. Let’s load these Type 81 rifles onto the truck," Starbucks said.

"These aren’t AKs?" Wei Tianyang asked.

"They just look similar. These were copies of the AK made by Yin Country back in the 1980s. It’s 2106 and there are still so many of them around..." Starbucks shook his head again.

First, they found a 12-seater minibus. Starbucks got on to check the cargo and found that at least the items were all there.

They were 20 well-maintained Type 90 assault rifles that looked similar to the Type 81s but had ditched the wooden construction for an all-black coating with the stock and handguard made of plastic material. There was even a stand-like grip below the handguard, and its curved magazine could hold 50 rounds of 5.8mm military bullets.

In addition, there were six wooden crates, each containing twelve metal ammo boxes, with 120 rounds per box.

These were much better than the conservative Type 81s the conservative faction themselves used.

But obviously, the military high command didn’t think the lives of regular soldiers were worth a Type 90, so they’d rather sell the weapons for cash.

Starbucks explained that these guns were not high in production, being an export improvement version of Yin Country’s Type 81. Their own forces never equipped them.

Wei Tianyang finished stowing the coffee beans and then, together with Starbucks, also unloaded the pile of weapons from the corpses and packed them into the vehicle. Anyway, the deal was done, but with the conservative faction losing over a dozen soldiers, they’d probably be furious for a while. On the way back, they’d have to inform Yaha.

Starbucks started the minibus, and Wei Tianyang stood by the door handle, watching the vehicle slowly drive out of the dispatch station.

"After we get back..." Starbucks was turning the steering wheel as she spoke.

Suddenly, a row of bullet holes appeared on the windshield!

Bullets broke through the glass, piercing Starbucks’s shoulder. She grunted, her body suddenly slumping over.

"Get down! Ishmael!" she yelled.

Before Wei Tianyang ducked down, he glanced outside the window and saw a squad of conservative soldiers standing at the entrance of the alley shooting at the minibus.

"It’s them!" he shouted.

Starbucks lay across the seat, her left hand on the wheel, her right arm bloody, staining a large patch on the seat.

"Go get the gun! Shoot them!" Starbucks said.

Wei Tianyang spread his right palm open; the barrel of an AK47 extended out, and with a thought, blue flames burst forth from the muzzle, a volley of bullets flew out, instantly knocking down a row of conservative soldiers.

"Whoa! What’s this?!" Starbucks exclaimed in surprise.

"Get to the street!" Wei Tianyang didn’t explain, just shouted loudly.

As long as they could get out, the soldiers probably wouldn’t dare to open fire—the United Council’s peacekeeping forces were on the street.

Starbucks floored the gas pedal, forcing the minibus to scrape against the wall as they headed to the street. They couldn’t turn around anymore and had to reverse out.

Blue flames kept spewing from Wei Tianyang’s palm, and he could feel the AK in his forearm getting lighter.

They were almost out of bullets in the drum.

The soldiers didn’t pursue but instead ran into the recesses of the walls to avoid the bullets, significantly easing the pressure.

The minibus reversed out of the alley and finally made it onto the street.

Just when they thought they could catch their breath, a blue pickup appeared at the corner of the street. The soldiers in the truck bed raised a rocket launcher, aiming at them.

"Ishmael! Ishmael! Hold on tight! Hold on tight!"

Wei Tianyang’s heart sank, and the next second, he saw a gray meteor trailing flames flying toward them.