Chapter 23#
Chapter 23#
Smiling Gas · 19
The doctor’s movements froze for a moment. Then he swept his gaze swiftly across the surroundings.
Of course, aside from Yu Feichen and the chemistry teacher Gerold, there was no one else. All the soldiers had either gone ahead to block the Koroshan people’s escape or were standing at the south gate with gas pipes, ready to release deadly poison gas toward the fleeing crowd.
No one could help him.
Faint, scattered footsteps drifted down from the floor above, as if many people were moving around. Gerold’s gaze shifted slightly. The doctor, meanwhile, looked even more uneasy.
In the cold air, the doctor’s heavy breathing sounded. He took a few steps back.
“First floor. Send men.” His voice echoed over the intercom, strained with a forced calm.
The doctor’s countdown had stopped abruptly. The soldiers had already been uneasy, and upon hearing the order, four or five immediately sprinted toward the building.
The south gate was very close to the small building, they would arrive in half a minute at most. The doctor seemed to loosen with relief, his stance growing steadier, more assured.
Then he drew a small brown pistol from his waist!
In the dead silence, his breathing trembled slightly as he gripped the gun with both hands, aiming at Yu Feichen while edging backward toward the doorway.
“Put the gun down, Doctor,” Gerold said in a low voice.
As he spoke, his fingers mimed the motion of twisting a valve. Yu Feichen saw it and knew that Gerold was serious.
This gas tank was the main container of the Smiling Gas, holding an extremely high concentration of the toxin. Once the valve was opened, the gas would burst outward from this small building in an instant. The filters of their gas masks were useless against gas this potent. When that happens, everyone would die.
—There was no threat more absolute than this.
The doctor’s body went taut. He spun suddenly, pointing the gun at Gerold.
At that very instant—
“BANG!”
Yu Feichen no longer carried the idle, careless pose of someone toying with a gun. In a sudden, sharp motion, he raised his hand. The bullet shot out trailing sparks, slicing through the air in a precise, unwavering line—and pierced straight through the doctor’s skull.
Yet this doctor had the fastest reflexes Yu Feichen had seen all night. At the very instant the bullet tore into him, he jerked his own trigger toward Gerold.
The two gunshots were caught by the broadcast microphone, amplified countless times, ringing through the entire compound before echoing layer upon layer into the surrounding valley—startling flocks of black birds into flight.
But the doctor had never undergone rigorous firearms training, and the visor of his gas mask distorted his vision. His shot was doomed to miss.
As expected, the bullet veered past Gerold by twenty centimeters, striking the thick metal gas tank behind him with a shower of sparks. After a harsh sizzle, it left behind a blackened dent.
The doctor, meanwhile, staggered where he stood. His body swayed, then toppled forward. Because he had been holding the gun with both hands, his weight pitched him face-first toward the floor. The weapon flew from his grasp. His arms landed in a posture that looked almost like surrender. Half the blood poured out of the shattered opening in his gas mask; the rest pooled inside it, thick and bright, drowning his face in its sticky red flood.
This man—once lofty, cruel, murdering countless captives with gas and electric shocks, revered within the facility for his madness and proud of it—now left the world in the most undignified manner imaginable. In the final seconds before death claimed him completely, he even choked on his own blood, coughing once in agony. Then he moved no more.
—No different from the Koroshan prisoners who died without dignity, stripped of all ability to resist. Death showed no mercy to the Koroshans, and it would not show mercy to the doctor. In death, all people are equal.
By then, the soldiers had already rushed to the doorway. When they saw the scene inside, their faces shifted in shock. Guns were raised, bullets chambered, every muzzle trained on Yu Feichen and Gerold.
Yu Feichen’s expression remained unchanged. Once he held a gun, everyone before him was equal.
And besides—he was not alone here.
On this night, when his people ran toward freedom, the chemistry teacher Gerold had risen with extraordinary calm and resolve.
Mogrosh had said:Sometimes you must trust your teammates. Now, Yu Feichen found that the words rang true.
“Put down your weapons,” Gerold said. “Otherwise I’ll open this valve right now and release every drop of gas stored here. You know perfectly well what the consequences would be.”
The soldiers fell silent. None pulled their trigger.
They had guns; Gerold had the valve. Both sides held a threat. Both waited for the other to yield.
But Gerold had nothing left to fear.
His people were already racing down the radiant road toward freedom, far from this place. And the wife he loved—though her fate was uncertain—was right upstairs.
This confrontation would decide everything.
If he won, the Black Badge soldiers would retreat in fear, and freedom would be reclaimed.
If he lost, he would die alongside his tormented wife.
He feared nothing now. He was ready to die with honor.
But the low-ranking Black Badge soldiers still clung to life—and that made the difference. Some of them were already faltering, their grips loosening, the barrels of their guns trembling ever so slightly.
At that moment, Yu Feichen began descending the stairs with his gun in hand. Each footstep thudded against the wooden steps, drawing closer and closer.
His presence was overwhelming; every pair of eyes shifted upward toward him.
A few strands of sweat-damp hair hung over Yu Feichen’s forehead. His features were sharply handsome, his gaze cold and inorganic. He descended without hesitation, his gun hand steady and sure. The top two buttons of his work shirt hung open, revealing the clean, sculpted lines of his chest.
Fresh blood was splattered on his sleeve. His stance was more practiced, more precise, than any soldier’s. In the dim glow of the gas lamps, he looked like a weapon forged purely for killing, or perhaps a reaper come to claim lives.
For some reason, this man seemed even more terrifying than Gerold, who held the deadly valve at his fingertips.
Someone among the soldiers recognized him as the one who had sparked tonight’s uprising. Murmurs rippled through the ranks.
A soldier’s hand trembled. Yu Feichen’s gun immediately tilted just a fraction—and pointed at him.
“Put your gun on the ground,” Yu Feichen said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. “Five… four…”
The soldier he targeted crumbled under his own terror and dropped his weapon with a clatter.
Gerold pressed his fingers fully onto the valve, picking up the countdown seamlessly:
“Three… two—”
In the silence, the countdown sounded like death drawing closer. A second soldier lowered his gun.
Then came the cascade of weapons clattering to the floor.
The doctor’s corpse lay there in disgrace, and under the twin threats of the gas valve and Yu Feichen’s gun, the Black Badge soldiers finally surrendered. The psychological battle had ended.
“Step back,” Yu Feichen ordered.
No one resisted. They stepped away, retreating from the pile of discarded weapons.
Still aiming at them, Yu Feichen flicked a glance sideways and made a subtle gesture.
A dwarf at the second-floor landing was the first to understand. He tumbled down the stairs in a scramble, rushed forward, and gathered the soldiers’ weapons into a bundle in his arms. Then he trotted proudly to Yu Feichen’s side as if awaiting praise.
Yu Feichen didn’t take his eyes off the soldiers, but he reached out and patted the dwarf’s head—a gesture of approval. The dwarf beamed, his smile simple and earnest.
At that very moment, Gerold suddenly lifted his head. Only then did he realize—
In the heat of the confrontation, focused entirely on the doctor and the soldiers, he had completely missed the fact that the pregnant women and disabled individuals from the second floor had already been freed by Yu Feichen.
——Not only had they been rescued, but several of them had already reached the stairway leading to the first floor, quietly watching the scene unfolding below.
From the small crowd at the landing, a slightly plump woman stepped forward. Her face was gaunt, her ash-blond hair dull, yet her green eyes still held their quiet beauty. This was Leanna. She was alive.
The Black Badge soldiers had been disarmed; the danger was past. She opened her mouth, her voice trembling with tears.
“Gerold…”
Gerold’s resolute gaze wavered instantly, his eyes filling with tears. Yet he didn’t move right away. Instead, he looked toward Yu Feichen.
Yu Feichen understood. Gerold was asking whether he could leave the valve now.
He gave Gerold a slight nod.
Gerold’s entire body trembled. He clambered down from the gas tank in a stumbling rush. Leanna, one hand on her stomach and the other gripping the railing, made her way down the stairs. They met at the bottom.
Gerold pulled her into a fierce embrace, his voice hoarse and quivering.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”
Yu Feichen didn’t know exactly why he apologized. Perhaps for failing to protect Leanna, for letting her fall into the doctor’s hands.
Or perhaps because, moments ago, when he threatened the doctor and the soldiers, opening the valve would have meant death for everyone—including Leanna.
Leanna laughed and cried at once. She cupped Gerold’s face in her hands. “I saw everything,” she whispered.
“You’re a hero, Gerold.”
The couple held each other tightly as a few soft sobs rose from behind Yu Feichen. Soon, everyone turned toward him with eyes full of gratitude and reverent awe.
“I don’t know how to thank you…” Leanna said, wiping her tears.
Yu Feichen looked at her and Gerold.
In another version of the future—one he had glimpsed in that barracks—Leanna had been cut open on the doctor’s table, her unborn child taken from her before she herself was tortured to death.
Devastated by her loss, Gerold had fallen into despair. When he later witnessed the Black Badge Army exterminating Koroshan prisoners with gas and burning their corpses in the incinerators, his spirit finally broke.
He opened the main valve of the Smiling Gas. The poison spread across the entire facility, ending his own life, the lives of the experimental subjects, and the suffering of all his people—while also killing every perpetrator in the Oak Valley Facility.
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes—but brutally so.
Now, they had changed everything. But this was not the time for sentiment.
“Head south,” Yu Feichen said. “Quickly.”
Gerold jerked back to alertness and hurried outside with his wife. The others followed in haste.
Just then, from upstairs came the crash of shattering glass, followed by a scream:
“FIRE!”
Yu Feichen’s brows tightened as he sprinted up the steps. Earlier, pressed for time, he hadn’t checked the storage room. Now he saw another doctor in a white coat rush out from that direction—flames already licking the walls behind him.
The man knew the Black Badge Army was finished and was trying to destroy evidence. Yu Feichen fired without hesitation, ending him instantly. Then he lunged toward the burning reagent cabinet and file drawers.
Inside the file cabinets—and in the desks in front of them—were vital research documents: the methods and molecular formula for producing Smiling Gas, and detailed records of every experiment and every batch of captives killed by gas.
These were crucial pieces of evidence. If secured, their impact would be enormous.
Had Yu Feichen known nothing about them, he would have been helpless before the flames now devouring the cabinets. But this was not the case. During his late-night reconnaissance missions, he had already read through every document and memorized where the key files were placed—all to save time when the moment came.
The fire had spread rapidly. The doctor must have used an accelerant; the wooden shelves crackled as heat surged outward. Yu Feichen didn’t flinch. He strode forward, seized a heavy military coat draped over a chair, and swung it by the collar to whip up a gust of air.
The flames recoiled briefly. He charged in, shielding himself with the coat as he yanked open the cabinet and pulled out the documents.
Fire licked through the fabric. In less than half a minute, the coat had already begun to burn. But Yu Feichen had finished with the file cabinet. With a swift motion, he yanked open the left drawer of the nearest desk and, without even looking, tucked the thick stack of documents into his arms and vaulted onto the desk.
He flung the burning coat back into the sea of flames and leapt down with the files held tightly against his chest. Behind him, the shelving groaned—then, in the next moment, gave way completely, collapsing with a thunderous crash as fire devoured it.
Through rolling flame and choking smoke, Yu Feichen cut across the rows of dissecting tables and returned to the stairway—where the Koroshan people were still waiting for him, some even stepping forward as if to help.
“Go!” he urged quietly.
Heat and smoke surged after them as they burst out of the small building.
Outside, it was momentarily safe. Yu Feichen divided the less critical documents among them to lighten his own load. The dwarf hurried over with the submachine guns taken earlier from the soldiers. Yu Feichen kept only three guns for the group’s defense; most of these sick and disabled people could barely hold a weapon, and extra guns would only weigh them down.
Then, one by one, he dismantled the crucial parts of the remaining rifles, rendering them useless. After that, he guided them all the way to the south gate.
The north wind howled; the mountains lay dark and frigid beneath the night. But no one feared the cold.
“Head towards Oak Mountain,” Yu Feichen instructed. “They haven’t gone far. There are footprints in the snow. If you still can’t catch up, keep going south.”
Gerold nodded. “What about you?”
“I’m going to the barracks to pick up a few things—military maps, among others,” Yu Feichen said. “See you in Sasha.”
Gerold nodded heavily, gripping Leanna’s wrist as he led the others onto the path of escape.
Snow continued to fall, covering the ground—covering the blood. The Koroshans who had already fled had been smart enough to gather up the remaining weapons.
A sound stirred nearby. Another soldier had survived.
He was very young; his lips were pale with fear. Muttering shaky words of courage to himself, he struggled to stand and raised his gun toward the fleeing group.
Leanna turned sharply at the noise. Her movement sent her ash-blond hair lifting in the snowy wind, and her green eyes shone with startling clarity. She locked eyes with the Black Badge soldier.
Her right hand was still protectively curved over her slightly rounded belly. A woman—a pregnant woman—with a fragile new life inside her. The gentlest, most defenseless of all beings. Yet here she was, running for her life through cold wind and a field of corpses.
The soldier’s hand suddenly trembled violently.
Through the swirling snow, Yu Feichen witnessed it. He noticed, too, the soldier’s awkward, untrained grip on the gun.
In wartime, many recruits were just civilians drafted on short notice. Just a month or two ago, he might have been an ordinary boy from an ordinary home. And a month or two ago, Leanna was still a respectable, comfortable wife living her peaceful life.
Had they met then, he might have stepped aside politely, offered a respectful smile, perhaps held the door for her.
But war and ideology had twisted everything in such a short time. The dream of peace shattered. Some people picked up guns, some were reduced to livestock.
The world revealed its bare, unvarnished cruelty. And the victors—the ones with power—slowly convinced themselves that brutality was justified.
Once the madness in the human heart begins to overflow, there’s no graceful way for it to end.
Yet in this moment—
In this terrified confrontation—
Their pupils trembled, their souls quivered, and both understood.
The young soldier suddenly let out a cry of anguish. He fired several shots wildly into the snow, then hurled his gun to the ground. Collapsing into the snowbank, he clutched his head and sobbed uncontrollably.
Yu Feichen exhaled into the cutting northern wind, a thin frost of breath escaping his lips.
War—and the systems that rule through it—are violence in its purest form.
They change everyone.
He thought no further as he watched Gerold and the others disappear into the curtain of snow.
After disabling the crying soldier’s gun, Yu Feichen left him where he was.
The necessary work to ensure the prisoners’ escape was finished; the remaining Black Badge troops could be left for post-war justice. He had limited bullets.
Inside the south gate, the small building was fully ablaze. Chemical supplies inside fed the fire, sending up choking smoke. Flames melted the falling snow and cast a red glow across half the sky.
Yu Feichen flipped through the documents in his hands, locating the chemical formula and properties of Smiling Gas. Among the records was a note: at high temperatures, Smiling Gas destabilized quickly.
He let out a quiet breath of relief. Good—if the fire damaged the tank, it wouldn’t cause catastrophic consequences. And he still had time to search the barracks for other materials, anything that might aid the Koroshan war effort.
——The was his first time entering the Gate of Eternal Night, he didn’t know the exact criteria for mission completion. So he had to do everything within his power.
The firelight illuminated the grounds. He looked toward the barracks—then suddenly remembered something.
Captain Anfield had not showed up at all tonight. What was he doing?
Yu Feichen quickly confiscated a pocket watch from a soldier and collected two more from others to confirm the time. It was 10:00 p.m. Two hours remained before midnight—before the last allowable moment.
Time was running out, he needed to finish everything and leave this place within those two hours. Otherwise, the consequences would be unimaginable.
He immediately headed toward the barracks. Passing the prisoners’ quarters along the way, he checked each one, even managing to rescue several scattered captives who had been left behind and had not joined the escape earlier.
Nearly all the soldiers in the facility were gone—dead or fled. Those left behind were local guards and logistics staff who—at least—had not killed anyone. Seeing Yu Feichen enter with a gun, they trembled violently. Yu Feichen told them only one sentence:
“Get out.”
They scrambled to obey.
Upon reaching the military area, Yu Feichen entered the colonel’s office first. He recalled many valuable documents were stored here—maps marking the locations of all containment facilities, plans to establish even larger and more efficient ones, future war deployments, and telegraphs exchanged between Oak Valley and Xiyun.
At first, everything went smoothly, just as he expected. But as he searched, a creeping wrongness struck him.
—Things were missing.
Plans, telegraphs—each was missing parts. Not enough to invalidate the whole, but still crucial. Precisely removed, expertly handled. There were no signs of rummaging, the drawers and cabinets looked untouched. It was done cleanly and efficiently.
Yu Feichen finished searching, gathered what remained, closed the cabinet, and walked out stone‑faced.
He surveyed the nearby rooms and quickly identified an independent suite diagonally across from the colonel’s office. The furnishings were neat, orderly, clearly belonging to another high‑ranking officer.
The fireplace was still burning—its owner must be sensitive to the cold.
A coat hung on a hanger; the epaulettes indicated the rank of captain.
This was, with high probability, the office of Captain Anfield—the platinum‑blonde man who spent half his time helping Yu Feichen and the other half annoying him.
Yu Feichen’s expression grew even stonier.
The room was empty, but the lamps remained lit. A cup of tea sat on the table, barely lukewarm, almost completely cold. Whoever had been here had left at least half an hour ago.
Yu Feichen caught the faint scent of something burned. A bad feeling rose in him. He followed the scent—and found ashes buried beneath the soil of a flowerpot on the desk.
On the other side, a telegraph machine sat on a small table next to the desk. He went over, disassembled it, and found it still slightly warm, clearly having been used heavily not long ago.
Naturally, the moment he saw ashes, the conclusion was obvious: Anfield had already destroyed the key documents. Meticulous, unlike the colonel; he wouldn’t leave any evidence.
So Yu Feichen didn’t bother searching further. He grabbed an empty briefcase from the office for his own documents, then went into the washroom, pulled a towel from the rack, soaked it, and carried it with him.
In a little over an hour, the southern fires had become a massive blaze; smoke would damage the lungs. A wet towel might help.
Once done, he left the office.
—And slammed the door shut a little harder than necessary.
He didn’t particularly need to know what Anfield was doing. Those things likely had little use for him anyway. But the fact that something within this facility remained outside his control—that feeling was… irritating.
It was 11:40 p.m. when he stepped outside, time was running out. But with his speed, fifteen minutes was enough to reach the south gate. Since Anfield still had the mind to destroy the data, it meant he was still alive. He knew he had to leave the containment facility before midnight, so Yu Feichen stopped worrying about him and focused solely on his own route.
The farther south he went, the brighter the flames grew, and the thicker the smoke became. Thankfully, the heavy snowfall balanced it out and kept it bearable. The fire had spread from the second-floor building to the crematorium tower, and now even the nearby women’s and children’s quarters were burning. The brick structures—poorly built—had already collapsed in several places.
He passed through the desolate ruins, moving forward. In the silent midnight, only wind and crackling fire could be heard. The stench of blood was as thick as the smoke. This place had always been hell for the Koroshans, and now it looked no different from hell itself.
Then, a faint sound came from deep within the ruins.
Yu Feichen spun back instantly.
The sound continued, along with voices and faint crying.
He hurried across the rubble, leaping over fallen beams. Turning past a partially collapsed wall, the first thing he saw—lit by the fire—was a head of shining golden hair.
The bricks crunched under his feet, and the person looked up at him. It was Anfield.
Cloaked, gloved, half kneeling in the ruins—he was pulling at something. Yu Feichen followed his gaze and saw the upper body of a little girl’s. Trembling and alive, her sobbing filled the air.
She cried out sharply, and Anfield lowered his head again, pulling at her as he spoke. His voice was one Yu Feichen had never heard before—a very gentle tone.
“Move a little to the left.”
Yu Feichen approached them. The girl must have been left behind in the chaos instead of escaping with the main force. Somehow she had been trapped under the collapsed building—pinned not only by bricks and concrete slabs but tangled steel beams.
She tried to move, but was terrified of being cut by the sharp metal. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body shaking with sobs. Yu Feichen quickly moved to Anfield’s side, his gaze sweeping over the steel frames and identifying the key beam.
Anfield looked up at him again. And in that split second of eye contact—Yu Feichen thought he saw tears.
But the next blink showed he’d been mistaken. Anfield’s face was dry, there was nothing at all. The dazzling firelight illuminated the young captain’s face clearly—brighter than any environment they had ever faced each other in—and Yu Feichen understood what caused his illusion.
Just beneath Anfield’s right eye, very close to the corner—at the root of his lower eyelashes—there was a faint, whitish mark, like an old healed scar hidden beneath the skin. It was barely visible, like a tear that was just about to fall.
—But Yu Feichen only saw it for a fleeting moment.
Then he planted his hands on the load‑bearing beam and heaved it upward with all his strength. The thing propped up by the frame was extremely heavy; only he could move it.
The structure groaned. Burnt bricks and debris tumbled away. The girl screamed and pitched forward, but Anfield caught her under the arms and yanked her out of the ruins in one swift pull.
Yu Feichen released the beam, and the wreckage crashed down behind him. Anfield lifted the girl by the wrist, pulling her to her feet amidst the charred ruins.
Yu Feichen checked his watch, then met Anfield’s eyes. His expression was grave. Anfield’s ice‑green pupils carried the same sharp chill.
—11:58 p.m. No time left.
Just then, the wind shifted, blowing dense smoke toward them. Anfield doubled over, coughing violently. Yu Feichen exhaled a sigh and pressed the damp towel originally meant for himself over Anfield’s mouth and nose.
Anfield’s eyes widened slightly, then he understood, and took the towel.
The next second, Yu Feichen grabbed Anfield’s shoulder, while Anfield gripped the girl’s wrist with his free hand. And the three of them—through fire, smoke, and ruin—ran for their lives toward the south gate, four hundred meters away.