Zhuo Yu Feng Yang Chapter 12

Chapter 12 Night Raid on the Underground Warehouse

The night was as dark as ink. The Abandoned Factory Area in East City was overgrown with weeds, and only a few rusty streetlights cast fragmented, dim yellow light in the cold wind.

Jiang Zhuo and Lu Chen parked their car a kilometer away in a small grove. Both had changed into dark clothing and moved lightly, weaving through the waist-high weeds. Lu Chen held a hand-drawn map, his fingertip resting on the location marked with a red cross: “The warehouse is in Workshop Three, the innermost building of the factory. There are two sentries at the entrance, and there should be patrols inside.”

Jiang Zhuo nodded, his gaze sweeping over the vague outline of the factory buildings in the distance: “It’s quite hidden for Brother Hu to stash his den here.”

“All the antiques he smuggles are transferred out from here,” Lu Chen’s voice was extremely low, the biting wind carrying his words. “The list of cultural relics mentioned in Elder Zhou’s notes might also be here.”

Using the cover of the weeds, the two slowly approached Workshop Three.

The iron door of the workshop was ajar, a blinding white light leaking through the gap. They could also hear intermittent voices coming from inside. The two sentries at the door were hunched over, smoking, their batons idly tapping the ground, clearly not taking their guard duty seriously.

Jiang Zhuo moved swiftly, darting out like a shadow. The stone in his hand accurately struck the back of the left sentry’s head. The man grunted and fell down stiffly. Before the right sentry could react, Lu Chen had already circled behind him, his elbow slamming hard into the man’s back neck. The man instantly went limp and collapsed to the ground.

Clean and precise, without a sound.

The two dragged the sentries and hid them in a nearby pile of scrap materials before pushing the door open and entering the workshop.

The workshop was empty, save for a dozen large wooden crates stacked in the center. The white fluorescent lights on the wall hurt the eyes. Several men in black vests were gathered around the crates playing cards. Cigarette butts and beer cans were scattered on the floor. They were completely unaware that anyone had intruded.

“Keep it quiet,” Lu Chen whispered.

Jiang Zhuo nodded, his footsteps becoming even lighter. His gaze fell upon the wooden crates, and the system prompt immediately sounded in his mind:

Ding—A large number of smuggled cultural relics detected, including Ming and Qing porcelain, bronzeware, calligraphy, and paintings. Some are national first-class protected relics.

Target item detected: One encrypted USB drive, hidden at the bottom of the innermost wooden crate. Contains Brother Hu’s smuggling accounts and a partial list of cultural relics.

Jiang Zhuo’s eyes narrowed. He pointed toward the innermost wooden crate.

Lu Chen understood. The two split up. Lu Chen crept toward the card players, while Jiang Zhuo headed straight for the inner crate.

The card players were loudly arguing over who had the better hand, none of them noticing the movement behind them. Lu Chen struck incredibly fast, his hand chopping down on the back of the neck of the man closest to him. That man face-planted onto the card table. The remaining men realized something was wrong and were about to shout, but Lu Chen was already entangled with them.

Dull sounds of fists and feet rang out, but they didn’t cause a major commotion. Most of Brother Hu’s men were just petty thugs; how could they be a match for Lu Chen? In just a few moments, they were all knocked down and unconscious on the floor.

On the other side, Jiang Zhuo had already pried open the innermost wooden crate.

The crate was filled with antiques wrapped in foam. He peeled back the layers of wrapping and, sure enough, felt a cold metallic object at the bottom of the box. He pulled it out and saw it was a USB drive with a combination lock.

Just as he tucked the USB drive into his pocket, rapid footsteps sounded at the workshop entrance.

“Who’s in there?!”

It was the patrol.

Jiang Zhuo and Lu Chen exchanged a look. Lu Chen quickly pulled out his phone and dialed a number: “Are they here yet?”

After hearing something on the other end, Lu Chen hung up and looked at Jiang Zhuo: “The police and the Municipal Cultural Relics Bureau staff will be here in three minutes.”

As he spoke, several patrolmen rushed in, holding steel pipes. Seeing the men sprawled on the ground, their eyes turned red: “Damn it, you dare to crash our party! Get them!”

Jiang Zhuo picked up a steel pipe from the ground and met them head-on.

His fighting skills were not top-tier, but he was flexible, and combined with the self-defense techniques he had honed during his previous life navigating the antique world, dealing with a few thugs was more than enough. The steel pipe whistled as he swung it, forcing his opponents to retreat repeatedly.

Lu Chen joined the fray, and the two worked together seamlessly. In less than two minutes, they had dealt with all the patrolmen.

Silence returned to the workshop, broken only by the buzzing of the fluorescent lights.

Jiang Zhuo wiped a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth and looked at Lu Chen: “I got the USB drive. It should contain what we need.”

Lu Chen nodded. Just as he was about to speak, the sound of police sirens and car engines drifted from the distance.

“They’re here.”

The two didn’t linger. They quickly exited through the back door of the workshop and vanished into the vast night.

Sitting in the car on the way back, Jiang Zhuo pulled out the encrypted USB drive, his fingers tracing the cold casing.

“The password shouldn’t be too hard to crack,” Lu Chen glanced at it. “I’ll have someone work on it. We should have results by tomorrow.”

“Mhm,” Jiang Zhuo replied.

The night was fading, and the horizon in the distance was already turning a pale fish-belly white.

The raid on Brother Hu’s underground warehouse and the seizure of the smuggled relics was undoubtedly a heavy blow to him. But Jiang Zhuo knew that Brother Hu wouldn’t let it go. This confrontation was far from over.

“We should have a lead on Elder Zhou’s case soon,” Lu Chen’s voice broke the silence.

Jiang Zhuo turned to him and nodded: “His innocence must be restored.”

The wind outside the car window carried the chill of the early morning. Jiang Zhuo tightened his grip on the USB drive, his eyes resolute.

All the clues were slowly surfacing.

And the South City Antique Exchange Fair was drawing closer.

A sense of anticipation suddenly rose in Jiang Zhuo’s heart.

He looked forward to that exchange fair, to the truth that was about to be uncovered, and also to the young master of the Lu family he had never met, the one named Lu Jingyang.

The morning light was slowly piercing the darkness.