Chapter 76

Chapter 76

The brief peace vanished with the night. At 7 a.m., the first large-scale gunfight erupted 20 kilometers outside the city, while civilian brawls broke out within the city itself.

By 6 a.m., as dawn broke, Xu Changying set off from the hotel, driving with Morey and Robert toward the northeast to reach the peacekeeping forces' base. Earlier, AGB headquarters had confirmed via phone that civilians who arrived at the military camp before 1 p.m. could evacuate with them.

At 7:30 a.m., after the two white guys took turns hugging Xu Changying, he prepared to head back to pick up Lao Han and the others.

Xu Changying opened the passenger door, where Zeiss sat, staring back at him. "What's wrong?"

"Get out of the car," Xu Changying said.

"I'm going back. This is my job too," Zeiss replied.

"There’s only room for five," Xu Changying countered.

"We have two cars," Zeiss argued.

Beta chuckled, standing by the barbed wire with a mocking glint in his eyes. "Still playing hero, Don Quixote?"

Zeiss shot back, "Are you talking about yourself?"

So Xu Changying shut the door again, and the two drove back the same way. This return trip, however, was far less smooth than the morning's journey. Gunfire and shouts echoed intermittently from both sides of the street, and lifeless bodies lay strewn across the road.

Zeiss forced himself to look away from the grim sight. He turned to see Xu Changying, lips pressed tight, eyes fixed straight ahead through the windshield, refusing to glance at the figures on either side of the road.

Even so, the chaos in their peripheral vision grew more frequent and intense.

Finally, at 9:30 a.m., after a tense two-hour drive, they pulled up to the hotel. This five-star hotel was the only international one not located in the wealthy district, so by daybreak, the other foreign guests had already driven to the commercial area two kilometers away to escape the real artillery fire.

Xu Changying and Zeiss cautiously took the elevator up to the 8th floor. As the doors opened, they were surprised to see Lao Han waiting in the hallway.

"Lao Han," Xu Changying said, his voice low with shock. "Why aren't you inside? It's too dangerous! Grab your passports—we’re leaving now."

"Edmund," Lao Han suddenly grabbed his arm. Though only in his early forties, his hair already streaked with gray. His tone was calm but strained. "You and Zeiss should go. We’re staying."

Zeiss blinked in confusion, struggling to process Lao Han's words. "What? You're not coming?"

"Yes. Zeiss, you two should leave now, or it'll be too late," Lao Han said, his voice trembling slightly, his eyes darting.

Zeiss frowned. "This isn’t the time for jokes. Of course you're coming. We came back to take you to the peacekeeping zone."

But Xu Changying, standing in front of Zeiss, seemed to understand something. He stared at Lao Han for a moment before brushing past him toward the room.

Lao Han’s expression changed, and he moved to stop him, but Xu Changying was faster, throwing the door open.

Inside the suite, a dozen pairs of terrified eyes turned toward the door, locking onto Xu Changying and the others.

They were all children from the minority groups, along with three or four women in vibrant traditional clothing.

Also present were two alpha men from Lao Han’s team—A Qiu, a Chinese man, and Marshall, an American.

Zeiss’s face darkened. "They’re hunting them door to door. If you shelter them here, you’ll get yourselves killed too."

The bloody riots they had witnessed on the way had all targeted the minority groups.

A Qiu, clutching a steel pipe, said, "We’re not leaving them."

"Where are Joyce and Fujino?" Xu Changying suddenly asked.

"They’ve gone to get the last group of students. Only they know those kids’ homes," Lao Han said with a trembling voice.

Xu Zhangying immediately turned and headed for the stairs: "I’ll go get them. After the children arrive, three of you decide who comes with me. If we’re even a second late, we’re done for."

Zeiss stared at Xu Zhangying’s straight-backed figure, frozen for a second before snapping out of it and following. The two took the elevator straight to the first floor.

The luxury hotel had a retro design, with a fountain and circular driveway in front. As soon as they stepped into the lobby, they saw Fujino, a female alpha, visibly tense, holding the hand of a 10-year-old girl.

The moment she saw Xu Zhangying, Fujino stumbled toward him, sobbing, "Joyce might be cornered! Mr. Edmund, please go help her!"

Xu Zhangying immediately asked where she was. Fujino said it was on the street outside. They told her to get the kid upstairs to the 8th floor first. Then, Xu Zhangying touched the gun at his waist and headed for the hotel entrance.

But just as Xu Zhangying was about to step out of the hotel doors, Zeiss suddenly grabbed him and pulled him behind the door.

The movement was abrupt, but Xu Zhangying instantly understood—his alpha instincts had picked up danger nearby. He quickly shifted to the side near the entrance.

Suddenly, Xu Zhangying heard something through the glass. He turned his head and saw a blue car stopped by the fountain, just 30 meters from the circular driveway leading to the entrance, blocked by a group of people.

It was Morey’s car.

Zeiss’s face paled. He suddenly realized something—the dozen or so people weren’t dressed like civilians. The leader, a man wearing only a green tank top and camouflage pants, snarled a command, and the people in the car were dragged out.

Joyce was a foreigner, clutching her passport. At 25, she still looked like a college girl. Two 10-year-old children were also pulled out with her.

Shaking but defiant, she stepped forward and began loudly arguing with the leader in English.

Zeiss only glanced before deciding to risk going out to get her. But as soon as he straightened up, his shoulder was seized with a heavy grip. He instinctively tried to shake it off—only to see the leader and his men raise their submachine guns. Joyce, still pleading her case, collapsed. The two children beside her fell too, their faces indistinct.

The whole thing took less than two seconds. Zeiss’s mind short-circuited, a deafening buzz filling his skull.

He didn’t even process what Joyce’s fall meant before a harsh "Go!" rang in his ear. Then, an iron grip hauled him back.

Xu Zhangying dragged Zeiss as they sprinted deeper into the hotel. Passing the elevator, the beta yanked his gun from his belt and shattered the elevator controls with the butt. He broke open the locked maintenance switch and sliced through the wires inside with a knife. His face was stone-cold the whole time—it took less than thirty seconds.

The attackers hadn’t breached the hotel yet, seemingly hesitant about the foreigners inside. Using that split-second opening, Zeiss and Xu Zhangying raced to the 8th floor.

Xu Zhangying pounded on the door: "Open up!"

Only at his voice did A Qiu and Lao Han unlock it. By then, the city echoed with the roar of vehicles and gunfire. They were ghostly pale as they looked at Xu Zhangying.

Fujino and 19 local children, all around 10 years old, huddled fearfully in the small living room. The moment she saw Zeiss and Xu Zhangying, Fujino blurted in English, "Where’s Joyce? Did they make it up?"

Zeiss was still ice-cold with shock. At the mention of Joyce, he didn’t even know what to say.

"We can’t hide here," Xu Zhangying’s voice was glacial, ignoring Fujino’s question. Then Zeiss noticed Lao Han and the others staring—he looked down and saw Xu Zhangying still gripping a pistol in his right hand.

*Bang! Bang!* Xu Zhangying slammed the door twice more, furious. "Hurry up! Move! Don’t waste time!"

The stunned group snapped into motion. They scrambled to their feet. "All of you, to the 12th floor—now! Take the stairs!"

Zeiss finally understood Xu Zhangying’s plan. One took point, the other covered their backs, guiding the group of over twenty up to the 12th floor.

The 12th floor was the hotel’s top level—a restaurant area with a grand banquet hall and three dining booths. Zeiss and Xu Zhangying stormed the kitchen, kicking doors in until Zeiss found the storage room.

The storage room was small, about 80 square meters, filled with wooden crates—but enough to hide twenty children.

Xu Zhangying flung in sodas and whatever food he could grab from the restaurant’s cold storage. To the trembling children and women, he hushed them with a sharp gesture. Then he slammed the steel door shut.

"Four of us can leave, but two must stay to deal with the local government," Xu Zhangying bent down to place a storage box in front of the warehouse door, making it look untouched. His face was covered in sweat, and the back of his suit was smeared with white wall dust, starkly visible.

As he spoke, Xu Zhangying crossed his arms and turned directly to Lao Han and the others: "Pick three to go. It's past 10 o'clock—any later, and none of us are getting out."

The expressions of Lao Han, A Qiu, Marshall, and Fujino instantly changed. Xu Zhangying hadn’t outright told Lao Han, the team leader, to stay. Instead, he said, "Pick three."

His stance was clear: in the face of life and death, no position or duty should dictate who must die.

Fujino finally came to her senses, realizing Joyce was already dead. Trembling, she couldn’t hold back her tears. Everyone understood—whether it was their United Nations affiliation, Western passports, or the name of their charity organization, none of it could shield them from the bullets meant to kill in this chaotic, terrifying moment.

No one cares about international outcry or strategy now.

Standing in the exquisitely decorated, modern restaurant, everyone realized this was nothing more than a flimsy facade against savage fury. The illusion of safety vanished in an instant. Perhaps in the next second, this place would become a bloodbath.

After two long minutes, Lao Han, slight and wiry, trembled his lips and looked up: "I’ll stay. It should be me. This is my decision."

Zeiss stood behind the beta intern officer, silently observing the glaring white mark on his back, only to hear him say coldly, "Lao Han, this isn’t a job promotion. If you’re scared, let’s discuss it together."

"No. Joyce and I had already considered this when we decided to do this," Lao Han wiped his face, his expression grave. "I’ve made up my mind."

Fujino glanced tearfully at the team leader but didn’t know what to say, covering her face with her hands. Xu Zhangying lifted his gaze to the other two alphas and nodded. "If it’s decided, then let’s go now."

Before the words fully left his mouth, Zeiss saw the beta tilt his head at him: "You take them down."

His tone was so calm, as if he were saying, *Zeiss, go drive Lao Han to the hospital.* The same old rudeness, crudeness, and inexplicable authoritarianism.

Xu Zhangying hadn’t shaved yesterday, leaving faint stubble on his chin. Stripped of his only redeeming quality—neatness—his face now seemed even more detestable in Zeiss’s eyes.

"Why me?" Zeiss glared coldly into Xu Zhangying’s eyes.

The others froze. A Qiu and Lao Han both widened their eyes in unison, staring dumbfounded at Zeiss—*Had he lost his mind? Wasn’t his companion handing him the best chance to survive? Why was he angry instead?*

Xu Zhangying frowned, his voice went cold. "What do you mean? Are we really going to argue about alpha pride now?"

Zeiss felt his heart twist violently, the rage boiling inside him. "Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to decide everything, mocking others for playing the hero while you hog the glory yourself?"

"Exactly," Xu Zhangying turned, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, as if baffled. "How did you know? I really do love hogging the glory."

Zeiss was stunned. He watched as Xu Zhangying pulled car keys from his pocket, grabbed his hand, and placed the keys in his palm, saying earnestly, "Humour a beta’s hero complex. I genuinely want to steal the spotlight."

"You’re insane!" Zeiss snapped. "Why should I let you show off?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Zeiss realized he’d fallen into the other’s trap of sophistry. He saw that infuriating beta’s eyes flash with mischief and flushed red, speechless with anger.

"Don’t make this about ego," Xu Zhangying gripped Zeiss’s shoulder and pushed him forward. "You’re the star—why fight me for this? Don’t waste time. No telling if the roads are blocked. We can’t afford detours!"

Before Zeiss could react, he was shoved toward a stunned Fujino and A Qiu, the keys gripped tight in his fist.

"I—" Zeiss wanted to say something, but seeing the panic in Fujino’s eyes, he knew arguing now was pointless. He lifted his gaze to Lao Han, standing red-eyed in the restaurant, and Xu Zhangying, who looked utterly indifferent.

"A Qiu, if anything happens to me, tell my daughter I’m away on business," Lao Han managed a weak smile. A Qiu and Marshall’s eyes reddened almost instantly.

"Be careful on the road. If you see armed men, keep your cool. Roll down the windows so they can see your faces," Xu Zhangying said calmly, propped casually against the bar, even waving at Zeiss.

"Bye."

Zeiss led the three downstairs. His car was parked at the hotel entrance, just like yesterday. The blazing sun bore down on his face, stinging his eyes. But unlike yesterday, three lanky locals leaned against his car, smoking and chatting.

They looked so relaxed—if not for the submachine guns in their hands, they might’ve been just some punks.

A Qiu tightly held Fujino's hand, following behind Zeiss alongside Marshall. Zeiss forced himself to appear calm as he approached the car, where the three armed militants eyed them up and down with hostile scrutiny.

Zeiss took out his passport and said in English, "We are employees of the United Nations and AGB Organization. We need to leave now."

The leader, a tall man with murky yellow eyes, stared at Zeiss’ face for a full three seconds before finally backing off from the car.

Zeiss immediately tilted his head, signaling A Qiu and the others to get in. Once inside, he lowered the window and, while starting the engine, said to the militants, "My colleagues are still in the hotel—they’re sick. I’ll come back for them."

The three men simply watched him with inscrutable grins, leaving it unclear whether they understood. Hitting the gas, Zeiss drove away.

As they passed the fountain, Fujino suddenly let out a sharp shriek. A Qiu quickly covered her mouth.

At the same moment, Zeiss saw it too—Joyce, face down, dragged to the side of the road, along with two small figures.

Just as Xu Zhangying had warned, many roads were indeed barricaded. Fortunately, Zeiss and the others had complete identification documents and clearly foreign looks, allowing them to reach the peacekeeping base unscathed.

It was already 12:40 p.m. The entire base was in chaos, filled not only with Zeiss’ group but also many other foreign nationals waiting to evacuate.

A soldier in uniform hurried over, instructing them to register and informing them that they would be escorted out in half an hour. Anyone separated from loved ones was also told to register and wait for the next wave of international aid.

A Qiu grabbed the pen and said anxiously, "Yes, yes—we have two colleagues still trapped in the hotel, and also—"

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw the young specialist say simply, "Mr. Qiu, add me to the list."

A Qiu and Marshall were stunned. "Specialist Zeiss, you’re going back?"

But Zeiss had already turned away, striding back to the car. He yanked the door open, got in, and peeled away against traffic without looking back.

On the road, Zeiss called the North America Branch and IGO while driving. However, with most communication towers destroyed, the signal was intermittent. Fortunately, as he passed one block, he finally reached the North America Branch. He quickly reported their situation—trapped in the hotel with women and children—but before he could hear about potential reinforcements, the call cut out.

At the final intersection, Zeiss spotted the same three armed men in the crowd manning the barricade. One of them seemed to recognize him, muttering something to his companion.

The militant checking documents glanced at Zeiss, then raised the barrier.

The moment Zeiss stepped back into the hotel lobby, his eyes locked with the beta sitting on the sofa, clutching a landline phone.

"Damn it, why are you back?" Xu Zhangying, who had been tense and guarded, stared at Zeiss as if seeing a ghost, the receiver slipping from his hand.

Zeiss tossed the car keys and smirked. "Did you forget? I’m the actual Specialist. You’re just an intern."

Xu Zhangying, still holding the phone, turned pale. He scrutinized the top-tier alpha, opened his mouth, then finally sighed and opted for a calmer tone. "This isn’t an alpha thing. You’re just genuinely nuts."

For some reason, Zeiss’ memories of those days in the hotel had grown hazy. Only fragmented impressions remained.

Like how, to deal with the militants’ random checks, he and Xu Zhangying alternated sleeping on the lobby sofa while the other slept at the front desk—ready to quietly alert Lao Han on the 12th floor via the internal phone at the first sign of trouble.

The first three days were manageable. The city hadn’t completely lost connectivity, and despite the poor signal, Zeiss could still reach the outside world. But as the situation worsened, the promised international reinforcements never arrived.

Fortunately, with support from the Duncan family and the North America Branch, Zeiss received word on the third day that IGO would send negotiators to engage with the rebel forces within a week.

But before negotiations, the militants couldn’t learn that women and children from the "minority group" were still hiding in the hotel—otherwise, the situation could escalate into open conflict, leaving them with no help.

By the fourth day, as fighting intensified, everything took a sharp turn for the worse.

Late at night, Zeiss, asleep on the sofa, was jolted awake by strange noises. Sitting up, he saw Xu Zhangying coming downstairs. The beta told him armored vehicles had entered their district.

Back-to-back, they sat in the grand, empty hotel lobby. Zeiss looked up at the ceiling, where a modern spray-painted knockoff of *The Creation of Adam* stretched overhead. It all felt surreal—as if his easygoing days of watching fishermen by the sea belonged to another lifetime.

On the fifth day, the city had no water or internet.

But this wasn't the worst part. The worst was that the rebels' suspicion of the hotel began to grow. Previously, after negotiations between IGO and United Nations departments with the local warlord in the city, they had agreed not to target hotels housing AGB Officers and charity organization members.

However, the militants soon started pushing Zeiss and Xu Zhangying's buttons—constantly demanding entry to use the hotel facilities. At first, Zeiss stood firm in his refusal.

But as time passed and they lost contact with the outside world, by the fifth day, Zeiss and Xu Zhangying were forced to barricade themselves in the 12th-floor restaurant.

A self-proclaimed rebel captain even entered the restaurant to inspect Lao Han, who was suffering from "dengue fever." At this point, Zeiss and Xu Zhangying drew a hard line—no one was allowed on the 12th floor, or it would be considered a threat to UN personnel.

Since the rebels had already rifled through the restaurant and found supplies nearly depleted, they quickly lost interest in occupying the floor.

Fortunately, the women and children kept quiet. After the militants entered the hotel, they could no longer move freely in the restaurant and were confined to the storage room and kitchen, but they didn't make a peep.

Still, the food in storage would only last another week.

With no other options, all they could do was wait and hope that IGO or other international reinforcements would arrive within that week.

As time dragged on, Zeiss's anxiety was eating him alive. Though he kept a composed exterior, staring at the disconnected signal on his computer screen, he was drowning in the overwhelming uncertainty weighing on their futures.

Strangely, however, his beta companion seemed unaffected by the oppressive environment. Even as gunfire erupted between militants two streets away late at night, the beta could be found sprawled in a booth in the garden restaurant, dead to the world.

"No signal for you means no signal for him either," a voice suddenly came from overhead. Xu Zhangying approached, holding a glass of soda water. "Today's water ration for both of us."

To prepare for unforeseen risks, Xu Zhangying and Lao Han had inventoried their supplies and rationed out fixed daily portions of food and water, stretching their reserves for another week.

Zeiss stared at the glass in silence. The beta chuckled. "Oh, right—you're a germ freak. Let me grab you a straw."

"No," Zeiss snapped, frowning. *This idiot. Who thinks of a straw instead of just getting another glass?*

He took a sip—only to immediately choke, coughing violently.

"Why the hell is this water so boozy?!" Zeiss braced himself against the bar counter, turning red, coughing uncontrollably. Then it hit him—the taste was familiar.

He turned to the beta, who sat nearby grinning like an idiot and ready to bolt. "Did you mix whiskey into the soda water?!"

"Is it really that bad?" Xu Zhangying rubbed his face. "I spilled some earlier, and our rations are already tight, so I just... topped it off with a little whiskey. Didn’t think you'd notice."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Zeiss was stunned. Then it dawned on him. He glared at Xu Zhangying, teeth clenched. "Wait—you didn’t even taste it before handing it to me?"

"Oh. Forgot," Xu Zhangying admitted shamelessly.

"You’re impossible."

The only thing Zeiss gained that week was learning to trade better insults with Xu Zhangying—from "Are you sick?" to its upgraded version: "Are you mentally ill?"

For Lao Han, who spent his days anxiously lounging in a booth by the open window, the daily entertainment alternated between the escalating street battles outside and the two AGB Officers' childish bickering—"You’re sick!" "No, *you’re* sick!"

The former deepened the middle-aged man’s despair over humanity’s peace, while the latter provided a slight, perverse comfort.

Had Zeiss and Xu Zhangying been trapped in this hotel prison longer, he might have learned even more creatively vicious insults—rich in metaphor and rhetorical flair.

But their confinement ended abruptly on the seventh day.

In the years that followed, Zeiss would pick apart every detail of the incident, ensuring that by age 29, he knew every critical moment that led to the conflict.

For instance, why the militants were certain the 12th floor hid women and children—despite their secrecy. The answer was simple: during the execution of a man who'd married a minor clan woman, he revealed his niece was being sheltered by foreigners in the hotel.

Or why the militants insisted on taking their leader—because late on the sixth night, IGO had contacted the rebel leader through the United Nations, demanding the safety of international personnel until their arrival. Thus, Joyce’s killers believed they needed a hostage.

But 23-year-old Zeiss knew none of this. To him, the crisis struck suddenly and catastrophically, giving him no chance to fight back—not even by 30 minutes.