Chapter Fourteen: Execution!

The Wild Wolf did not reply. He cast a glance at Chen Qi with those proud, unyielding eyes, as if carved from rotten wood, impossible to shape. Chen Qi lowered his head once more under that gaze.

Uznev, accompanied by his last two subordinates, charged to the first floor of the auditorium, only to find the main doors wide open, surrounded on all sides by military police.

One KB member barely managed to utter a word before bullets from three directions engulfed him. Whatever he meant to say was forever swallowed, never to be heard.

With only a handful of KB members left, Chen Qi fired repeatedly, but at a distance of seven or eight meters, surrounded by so many sharpshooters, his shots could do nothing but vent his rage on corpses.

Uznev tossed several grenades up to the second floor, forcing back the special forces stationed there. He hid between the first and second floors, desperate for a last stand.

The scent of blood drove the last KB member beside Uznev mad. Shouting, “Stan will be independent!” he leapt from the staircase, intending to rise and open fire.

The soldiers, watching him intently, shot him dead in the split second he managed to rise, but not fully. His corpse, twisted in a grotesque pose, bore the expression of wild insanity as it curled on the floor.

Again, Chen Qi was too slow to act, so angry he nearly hurled his pistol away.

Seeing there was no hope left, Uznev never once considered surrendering. The micro submachine gun in his hands flashed with muzzle fire, its heated barrel shrieking in agony, echoing the anguished look upon his own face.

The special forces finally arrived from behind, launching an unsporting attack. One kicked Uznev aside, and several others pinned him down.

03:42. Uznev captured. The battle was over.

Pinned to the ground, Uznev struggled with his burly frame, but two special forces officers held him fast. At that moment, he resembled a fat maggot roasting in flames, writhing helplessly to no avail.

Uznev ceased struggling, turning his head to gaze at the auditorium’s entrance.

Power had been restored, and the bright lights forced him to close his eyes.

Outside, medics hurried back and forth, carrying wounded soldiers and hostages. Journalists, as if injected with adrenaline, broke through the soldiers’ barriers and rushed into the hall.

Uznev shut his eyes in pain. He had not expected the Northern Alliance to act so swiftly, to risk the lives of hostages with such decisiveness.

In less than thirty minutes, this one-sided battle had ended.

Not far away, General Zakayev, who had watched the course of battle with concern, was the first to arrive at the hall. With a cold, bloodthirsty gaze Chen Qi had never seen before, Zakayev stared fiercely at the captive Uznev and spoke, syllable by syllable:

“How do you want to die?”

Uznev relaxed at last, his tone resigned:

“Will you kill me now? I thought you’d interrogate me first.”

He exhaled, then continued:

“It matters not. I’ve longed only for death; I won’t play along with your charade.”

He lifted his head one last time, gazing toward the Stan region, and spoke with a brightness and fanaticism:

“But remember this, you bastards of the Northern Alliance. I will be reborn atop the mountains of Stan. I will live forever in the flames of Stan’s vengeance. In every drop of your blood shed, my spirit of revenge will haunt you. Hahahahaha—!”

Uznev’s wild laughter was abruptly cut off by a soldier’s kick.

Uznev was about to be beaten to death. Seeing he had failed to earn a prestigious reward, Chen Qi hastily spoke up:

“General, I have one more request!”

All eyes turned to Chen Qi. Under their gaze, he pressed forward and pleaded:

“I want to execute him myself!”

The hall fell silent for several seconds. Uznev seemed to guess what was coming and gave a bitter laugh:

“Never thought I’d die at the hands of this little brat!”

The general’s stern face broke into a rare smile. He walked to Chen Qi, patted his shoulder again, and said:

“The president called me personally, urging me to revoke your operational privileges. Do you know how I responded?”

Chen Qi could not guess and did not reply.

Without waiting for an answer, the general continued:

“I said only one thing. At a time like this, the Northern Alliance needs heroes!”

He laughed heartily.

“And then even the president stammered. Hahahaha!”

Turning back to Uznev, the general spoke to Chen Qi:

“Do it! Show the world the will of our Northern Alliance!”

Chen Qi was overjoyed, stepped forward eagerly, and raised his pistol.

“I’m about to take a K-head!” he thought, as gleeful as a husky running wild in the snow.

Uznev closed his eyes, ready for the end.

Suddenly, the Wild Wolf stepped forward, slapped away Chen Qi’s raised pistol, and offered the military knife from his trouser leg with pride:

“Brat, put away your toy and use this!”

Seeing the general had no objection, Chen Qi braced himself and took the knife, stepping closer. At half a step’s distance, he could see every hair and scar on Uznev’s face.

Beads of sweat, as large as beans, rolled down Chen Qi’s face.

Clearly, for Chen Qi—or for anyone—killing with cold steel was not the same as killing with firearms. The brutality was far greater.

Everyone’s eyes and all the pressure focused on Chen Qi: the general, soldiers, remaining hostages, journalists, medics—all paused, staring straight at him.

“For the hostages you killed, for the bearded man, for the injustice in my heart,” Chen Qi whispered to himself, and raised the knife.

He intended to sever Uznev’s neck, to decapitate him.

Uznev’s face bore a complex expression. He looked at Chen Qi; none could guess his thoughts.

Chen Qi inhaled deeply and brought the knife down.

The sharp blade tore through Uznev’s fragile neck, slicing skin and blood vessels. Blood sprayed onto Chen Qi’s tense face.

The knife stuck halfway through Uznev’s neck. Seeing this, Chen Qi quickly pulled it out and struck again, determined to sever the head.

After several tries, the head still would not come free, though Uznev was long dead. Then, Chen Qi felt a warm hand gently steady his knife-wielding hand.

“That’s enough. Leave the rest to others. Don’t let this weigh too heavily on your mind.”

The general’s deep, magnetic voice was a relief; Chen Qi gratefully retreated, handing the bloodstained knife back to the Wild Wolf.

The Wild Wolf gave Chen Qi another proud, disappointed look, then swiftly finished the grisly task.

Finally, the head of the culprit behind the bloodshed at Strelan Middle School was severed from his body.