Chapter 627: Chen Chaofa's Brother
“I’m not saying this to rile you, Old Chen. just think about it: your men can’t even hold them back. Our people—most of them never had any military training before the end times…” Someone stood and wore a roguish smile.
Before he could finish, Chen Chaofa pulled a pistol from his pocket, leveled it at the man’s chest, and fired, killing another regimental commander.
“I’m watching you. Who won’t send men? Who won’t send men?!” Chen Chaofa raved, pointing the gun at the remaining commanders.
Two soldiers stood behind him; at his signal they drew their weapons and trained them on the regimental commanders without hesitation.
Shock, anger, and terror seized the commanders. Seeing the two bodies on the floor, still warm, they fell silent.
A voice finally shouted, “Old Chen—Old Chen, let me go! I’ll order everyone under me to kill those bastards from Hexi!” A shorter, frail commander raised his hand and stepped forward.
Chen Chaofa lazily waved the pistol and let the frail man leave the monitoring room. As the man hurried away, Chen Chaofa swept his gaze over the remaining commanders and demanded, frantic, “Who else?”
Once one hand went up, others followed. In an instant, every commander agreed to mobilize troops. They fled the monitoring room, leaving it vast and empty. Only Chen Chaofa, Wu Simiao, and the two loyal soldiers remained.
Wu Simiao wanted to ask whether the commanders had truly mobilized their subordinates, but after checking the surveillance feeds he said nothing. The footage showed the group leaders packing, hiding in rooms, or preparing to flee—no one was organizing forces.
Chen Chaofa’s madness was plain now. Wu Simiao had no idea when it started. Maybe Chen Chaofa had always been mad, simply pretending otherwise.
Wu Simiao worried that if he disclosed his discovery, Chen Chaofa might fly into another rage and shoot him. The thought chilled him. The man before them no longer behaved like a rational leader.
So Wu Simiao stayed silent, crouched behind a chair, watching the screens and Chen Chaofa, weighing whether he too should find an excuse to mobilize men and slip away.
Time stretched on.
Zhan Lian and Luo Feifan were almost at the monitoring room—about a floor below—when one of Chen Chaofa’s soldiers hurried down and called to him.
“Xiao Fa, hurry—follow me!”
The caller looked to be in his fifties, some years older than Chen Chaofa. He wore a crisp uniform and moved with surprising agility. When he addressed Chen Chaofa by his nickname, his concern came across like that of an elder for a younger brother.
Chen Chaofa turned his head, looked at the man, and spat with hatred, “Brother, I want these people dead—every one of them dead, all of them dead!”