0077 is preparing to make his escape.

"Small!"
"Bang!"
The bullet fired by the werewolf pierced the Flying Tiger's brow in an instant. Without hesitation, the werewolf stepped out from behind the pillar, feet planted firmly at the flank of the Flying Tiger team, and unleashed a merciless barrage against those who turned or raised their guns in panic.

"Bang bang bang!" The remaining twenty-nine rounds in the five magazines slammed into the backs, shoulders, and chests of the Flying Tiger members caught off guard, felling thirty-four of them in an instant. Even as he drove the rest to flee into cover, the werewolf had already inflicted casualties on half of the advancing Flying Tiger team.

"Don’t panic, maintain defensive formation! Squad, focus on the left pillar; squad, aim at the right pillar. Get the wounded brothers out of here." Despite their repeated losses, the Flying Tiger commander strove to hold the line. But before they could reorganize, Hou Rui seized the moment with agility, becoming the final catalyst for the Flying Tigers’ complete collapse.

"Boom!" Hou Rui, emerging once more from the reception desk, fired his first shot, sending a Flying Tiger airborne. Sixty-seven pellet holes could be seen clearly in the man’s chest.

"Boom!" The second shot struck the Flying Tiger commander squarely in the chest. Even with top-tier, level-six body armor, the impact was enough to break several ribs and possibly shatter internal organs, causing severe internal bleeding.

"Rat-a-tat-tat." At last, sporadic bullets flew toward Hou Rui, but he neither could nor wished to dodge. He strode forward in a straight line, bearing down on the center of the Flying Tiger formation. The Flying Tigers, assigned just moments before to defend the pillars on either side, made the fatal error of overlooking the reception desk for a single second.

"Boom!" Forcing himself to ignore the fear of being hit, Hou Rui aimed his third shot at a wounded Flying Tiger being dragged across the floor by a comrade. The shot veered slightly, shattering the hand of the rescuer and badly deforming the shoulder of the wounded man, whose bones were likely pulverized.

"Boom boom, rat-a-tat-tat, bang bang!" The lobby was thrown into chaos. After Hou Rui’s reckless charge, Lux and the werewolf coordinated a resolute counterattack, pinning the Flying Tigers at the pillars and relieving some pressure on Hou Rui. Under the three-pronged assault, the Flying Tigers could only fight fragmented battles, barely holding on with sheer numbers.

"Retreat! Retreat!" With the commander wounded and unconscious, a Flying Tiger squad leader took over and decisively ordered a withdrawal. Under covering fire, the two teams left behind two bodies and retreated from the lobby in disarray, leaving only a litter of shell casings and wide, crimson drag marks leading all the way to the door.

Hou Rui and the werewolf, relentless in pursuit, chased them even to the front entrance, firing at the retreating Flying Tigers until they entered the sniper’s range. Only then did Hou Rui drag the werewolf back, returning to concealment in the dim hall.

For now, the lobby fell quiet, with only the sound of Hou Rui reloading his weapon echoing through the space.

"Three seconds, werewolf, how are you?" Hou Rui, having finished reloading, touched his bleeding earlobe and grimaced as he stuffed a cloth into his shirt to pad the wound on his shoulder. He then whispered in English.

"I'm fine, but I’m out of bullets," replied the werewolf, stooping to search a Flying Tiger corpse left behind. He found a P250 pistol and discarded his empty magazine.

"I’ve been hit twice. Damn it," came Lux’s weak voice, sounding frail—her wounds were clearly severe.

Anxious, Hou Rui glanced cautiously toward the entrance, then hurried to Lux’s side. The werewolf, meanwhile, took over the watch, standing guard.

As Hou Rui knelt beside Lux, he saw an alarming expanse of blood. Although she wore body armor, the close-range melee with the Flying Tigers had been so intense that the 5 and 4 carbine rounds had easily penetrated her armor, resulting in the grave injuries Hou Rui now witnessed.

"How much blood have you lost? Where are you hit?" Hou Rui reached for her body armor to check the wounds, but Lux stopped him, her hand pressed tightly to the injury, refusing inspection.

"I took two rounds—one in the right lung, one in the stomach. Judging by the bleeding, I can last another thirty minutes." Clinging to her wounds, Lux managed a faint smile at Hou Rui’s worried expression. "I’ll hold the police off for a while; you two go ahead."

"How could you hold anyone off in this state?" Hou Rui dashed back to the reception desk, rummaged around, and found a towel for Lux to press to her wound.

"The police are moving forward again, likely preparing for a second assault. These bastards won’t give us a moment’s respite!" Suddenly, the werewolf at the door announced grim news.

Just as Hou Rui was about to speak, he heard faint footsteps, identical to those of the previous Flying Tiger attack—leather shoes striking the floor.

Unbeknownst to Hou Rui and his companions, another team of Flying Tigers and a large force of uniformed police had entered the building from the rooftop and the adjoining tower. They had been busy evacuating residents from the upper floors, which kept them from joining the earlier battle. Had they attacked from both ends, Hou Rui’s group would surely have been finished.

But the heavy casualties suffered in the first assault had enraged the Hong Kong police. The field commander in the command vehicle had now given orders for an all-out attack, regardless of cost. The upstairs Flying Tigers were already approaching the stairwell on the first floor, ready to coordinate with those at the front entrance—the footsteps Hou Rui heard belonged to them.

"They’re preparing a pincer attack." Defending the front entrance was now pointless, so the werewolf withdrew, searching the Flying Tiger corpse beside Lux for ammunition. Unfortunately, he found only 5.56 rounds for the 4 carbine, incompatible with his weapon; the Flying Tiger’s carbine itself had been damaged in the firefight. Thus, the werewolf was left with only a single P250 for defense.

"I saw a vent in the sewer at the back—go, I’ll cover the front entrance." Time was short, and Lux, already resigned to sacrificing herself, spoke as she struggled to change the magazine in her P250, neglecting her wound.

"Where’s the vent?" The werewolf, sensing a way out, pressed her urgently for details.

"The fourth room at the back is a storage room—the vent is in the floor there." Lux tried to stand, but Hou Rui helped her up only to sit her in a swivel chair, quickly unbuckling his belt and wrapping it tightly around her chest to staunch the bleeding.

"Good luck!" The werewolf, having gotten the information he needed, offered a perfunctory farewell and rushed toward the rear of the lobby. After a few steps, he noticed Hou Rui hadn’t followed and asked in surprise, "Stray dog, what are you doing? The police are about to break in. Hurry up!"

"I’m taking Three Seconds with me," Hou Rui replied stubbornly, still working on the belt.

"Madman, idiot," muttered the werewolf before disappearing without a backward glance.

Hou Rui, choosing to stay, tightened Lux’s wound, then said, moved by her complicated gaze, "This should control the bleeding for now. I’ll use the swivel chair to take you with me—there’s still a chance."

"Stray dog, you really are a strange one. If it were me, I’d have left with the werewolf," Lux replied, just as forty-five round can grenades were hurled into the lobby by the Flying Tigers at the entrance. Thick, acrid smoke poured from them, filling the hall in seconds.

"Tear gas!" Lux whispered.

"Let’s go. No one can see in this smoke—it’s nothing to fear." Hou Rui said, pushing Lux toward the rear.

Within seconds, visibility in the lobby dropped to near zero. A squad of Flying Tigers crept back in, sticking close to the wall this time. Progress was slow, but this prevented ambush from other directions.

"Found something!" Soon, a Flying Tiger reported a discovery. When they shone their flashlights, they saw it was a fallen comrade.

"Take him downstairs. Everyone else, keep searching. The building is surrounded; they can’t escape." The squad commander was speaking when distant gunfire rang out.

"Sir, it’s a 4 carbine—it’s ours," a Flying Tiger confirmed, listening closely.

"Advance and search; prepare for combat," ordered the commander, leading his team toward the sound of gunfire.