Chapter Fourteen: The Terror of Darkness

“Who’s there!!”
Vladimir and his men’s expressions changed instantly. With a series of clicks, over a dozen guns swung toward the direction of the voice.
Yet, to their surprise, the source of the sound was empty—there wasn’t a soul in sight.
As they stood there bewildered, a sudden whoosh came from behind them—a short baton spun through the air, sweeping at high speed.
Bang! Crash!
Glass shattered, sparks flew, and the overhead fluorescent tubes in the garage burst into fragments under the baton’s strike. The already dim garage was plunged into utter darkness.
The darkness robbed them of their sight, and with it, a thread of panic crept in.
The most terrifying thing in the world is the unknown. Darkness itself isn’t frightening, but not knowing what lurks within it is truly horrifying.
The gang members strained their eyes, hoping to pierce the gloom, but in the pitch-black garage, not a single shadow could be seen.
All they could perceive was the sound of each other’s breathing, growing heavier with fear.
Rat-tat-tat—
A burst of fierce gunfire flashed through the dark with sparks, and Vladimir, eyes bloodshot like a wild wolf, let out a furious roar.
“Rats, scum, you finally dare show yourselves? Get out here and face me!”
But the flash of gunfire, though brilliant, was fleeting. It only fueled Vladimir’s rage, doing nothing to restore their sight.
On the contrary, the roar seemed only to enrage whatever presence lurked in the darkness.
A swift gust tore through the crowd—a rapid, whistling wind. Thud-thud-thud—the sound of fists striking flesh exploded in their ears.
With a scream, one of the Russians collapsed, howling in pain.
Rat-tat-tat-tat—
The agonized cries pointed out the direction, and a barrage of gunfire instantly swept toward the source.
Even more harrowing screams mingled with the scent of blood, lingering around the panicked Russians. Then, that mocking voice resounded once again from the shadows:
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. No wonder they say Vladimir is ruthless. Seeing it now, it’s true.”
“Face us, and you might get a few broken bones at most. But when you turn your guns on your own men—well, look at that, someone ends up dead. It’s really…”

As the taunt rang out, another wave of gunfire thundered.
But all that reached Vladimir and the others was the familiar sound of their comrades’ screams.
“Stop shooting! If this goes on, we’ll end up killing each other. This place puts us at a disadvantage. Withdraw for now—once we leave the garage, those two rats won’t be able to stir up much,” Anatoly shouted hastily.
Hearing this, the Russians hurriedly lowered their weapons and groped their way toward the exit.
“Trying to leave? Not so easy. Look left!” At that moment, the voice in the darkness sounded again.
Instinctively, they all looked to the left—only to see a flash of silver, like a high-wattage bulb flaring to life in the dark.
Anyone with a bit of sense knows that when you go abruptly from darkness to sudden light, your pupils contract from the stimulus, leaving you momentarily blinded.
The sudden glare made them instinctively turn away.
At that instant, two figures shot out from either side—like beasts lurking in the shadows, baring their claws and fangs.
Each seized a Russian, dragging him back into the darkness; in perfect unison, they drove their knees into their victims’ chests.
With screams, the two assailants disappeared like the wind, melting back into the blackness, leaving behind their prey writhing on the ground, unable to rise.
The flash of light faded as quickly as it appeared. By the time the group’s eyes adjusted, the vast garage was once again plunged into inky blackness.
That fleeting gleam was like the red eyes of a beast, shining just before the hunt in the dead of night.
Thump-thump-thump!
The pounding of hearts sounded especially loud in the darkness, their sense of hearing heightened in the absence of sight.
The ragged breathing and agonized moans, coupled with the intermittent drip of water, reminded the remaining Russians that two more comrades had fallen.
This only heightened their already frayed nerves.
This garage, once familiar, now felt alien—so oppressive it seemed the very air had thinned, making it hard to breathe.
Anyone who followed Vladimir was no stranger to danger; each had walked the razor’s edge and faced deadly foes without flinching.
But to be struck down by an enemy they couldn’t even see—that terror chilled them to the bone.
In this impenetrable darkness, it felt as if a merciless, gaping maw could swallow them whole at any moment.
If the enemy in the shadows attacked again, perhaps the adrenaline would keep them holding on.

But after that last assault, the mocking voice in the darkness fell silent.
Now, aside from their heavy breathing, the pained moans, and the occasional drip of water, they sensed nothing.
The fear of not knowing when an attack might come gnawed at their minds, pushing their nerves to the brink of collapse.
Concealed in the gloom, Gu Zhongyan and Matt stood motionless, like statues, silently observing their increasingly panicked enemies.
One of them possessed superhuman hearing—moving in darkness was second nature to him.
The other, though lacking such hearing, could bypass his eyes altogether, perceiving his surroundings through his guardian spirit.
With his spirit cloaked, the darkness was no different from daylight to Gu Zhongyan.
He understood well: the terror of darkness wasn’t about the dangers it hid, but about the primal fears it awakened within.
Darkness was like an invisible key, unlocking the deepest recesses of human fear.
As the oppressive tension mounted in the Russians’ hearts, at last, someone snapped.
“Damn it, I’ve had enough! I’m getting out of here—come at me if you dare!”
A Russian roared, charging madly toward the exit.
His movement set off the others’ taut nerves.
Rat-tat-tat—
In a frenzy, another volley of gunfire erupted.
Like dominoes toppling, the rest lost control as well.
Overwhelmed by terror, they abandoned reason, firing wildly to vent their panic.
Gunshots crackled like firecrackers, echoing through the garage, mingled with screams.
Except for Vladimir and a few with steely nerves, who dove behind a car at the first shot and escaped unscathed, the rest were swept up in the chaos, their wails filling the darkness.