Chapter 368: He’s Here, Who Can Stop Him?

Chapter 368 -197: He’s Here, Who Can Stop Him?

The three cars formed a crooked line on the bridge, huddled together like a snake whose tail had been stepped on.

Silence fell inside the car for a moment.

Zhang Chong sat in the passenger seat, his body perfectly still during the sudden stop thanks to his immense core strength. Hands on his knees, he leaned slightly forward, like a wild beast crouching in the tall grass, ready to pounce.

He turned to Xiao Ya with a questioning look.

Xiao Ya’s expression remained calm.

She bent down and picked up her thermos from under the seat. She unscrewed the lid, glanced inside to make sure nothing had spilled, then tightened it again and set it on the armrest.

Only then did she calmly readjust the shawl that had slipped from her shoulders, her movements unhurried.

The lead bodyguard’s voice came over the walkie-talkie, tinged with tension. “We’ve got a blowout. Looks like there was something on the bridge… it punctured our tires.”

Hearing this, Zhang Chong’s brow furrowed instantly.

His eyebrows were naturally thick, so the frown made him look exceptionally fierce.

He snatched the walkie-talkie and keyed the mic. “Go check it out! Can you see what it is?”

The voice from the lead car returned, even more tense than before. “Caltrops. The bridge is scattered with caltrops. All four tires are blown.”

Zhang Chong’s pupils contracted slightly.

Caltrops.

‘This was no accident.’

Caltrops have four sharp points and are specifically designed to puncture tires.

Something like this doesn’t just appear on the Hengjiang Bridge out of nowhere. And it certainly wouldn’t be scattered perfectly in the path of the lead car’s tires.

‘This was deliberate.’

Zhang Chong turned to look at Xiao Ya.

Xiao Ya offered a faint smile. “Just as I expected.”

“Get out and check. If it’s nothing serious, we’ll keep moving.” Xiao Ya’s voice was perfectly composed. As she spoke, her gaze drifted past Zhang Chong to the thick fog beyond the windshield.

Zhang Chong hesitated for a moment, but Xiao Ya had already given the order, so he couldn’t say anything more.

He pushed the door open, got out, and stood beside the car, his gaze sweeping over the area.

The fog on the bridge was even thicker than he had imagined; visibility was probably less than twenty meters.

In the fog, the streetlights were just blurry orbs of light hanging overhead. The silhouette of the bridge’s guardrails was barely visible, fading in and out of view.

The lead car was stopped about fifteen meters ahead, all four of its tires flat. The car’s body was slumped crookedly on the bridge deck. Two bodyguards had already gotten out; one was crouching by the front left wheel checking the tire, while the other stood guard at the rear of the car.

The driver of the trailing car was also out, standing beside his vehicle with one hand on the door handle, showing no intention of closing it.

Everything seemed calm.

But to Zhang Chong, something felt off.

His intuition told him that something was hiding in the fog.

With his Horizontal Training cultivated to this degree, his physical Perception was far beyond that of a normal person. His instinct for danger was keener than a dog’s sense of smell for food.

Even though he couldn’t perceive any immediate danger, his experience screamed that something was wrong.

He returned to the car but didn’t get back inside. Instead, he stood outside the driver’s-side door, one hand resting on the roof, his eyes scanning the thick fog in every direction.

“Boss, something isn’t right,” Zhang Chong said in a low voice.

Just then, there was a subtle shift in the air. The fog seemed to thin in one direction, and the bridge deck… began to vibrate!

Zhang Chong’s pupils contracted sharply.

“Ambush!” he roared.

His voice exploded through the dense fog, echoing between the bridge and the river below.

The words were barely out of his mouth.

A figure suddenly emerged from the shadows at the side of the bridge.

There was no warning before the figure appeared. One moment, there was nothing but thick fog and rusted railings; the next, he was standing on the bridge, his feet landing without a sound.

The man wore dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he exuded a sense of extreme danger to Zhang Chong.

It was like walking through a jungle and suddenly realizing a tiger was crouching just three paces away.

It wasn’t roaring, wasn’t pouncing, wasn’t even looking at you, but you knew you were no longer at the top of the food chain.

Zhang Chong immediately positioned himself in front of Xiao Ya’s car door.

He didn’t charge forward to engage the enemy. Instead, he planted himself between the car door and the attacker.

‘Xiao Ya’s safety was the top priority. Everything else was secondary.’

‘They’d lured the tiger from the mountain. His only mission now… was to stop anyone from harming Xiao Ya.’

The bodyguard from the lead car, who had been changing the tire, heard Zhang Chong’s roar.

The moment the man heard that single word of warning, his instincts took over. His right hand dropped the tire iron, flashing to his waist. He completed a perfect draw in under half a second—thumb hooking the grip, index finger on the slide, middle and ring fingers clamping down.

But his gun never had the chance to fire.

The attacker was already on him.

His speed was absurdly fast.

The distance from the bridge railing to the lead car was at least twenty meters, yet the attacker seemed to spend no time crossing it. He practically teleported.

The gunman’s pupils contracted violently. His finger twitched on the trigger guard, trying to pull… but it was too late.

The attacker’s left fist smashed down, striking the frame of the gun with pinpoint accuracy. A dull THUD echoed, strangely muffled by the thick fog.

The gunman’s hand went numb on impact. His fingers spasmed open as if shocked, and the pistol flew from his grasp. It tumbled through the air, struck the bridge railing, then bounced off into the foggy abyss over the river, vanishing without a trace.

Before the gunman could react, the attacker pressed his advantage. His left arm bent, and he drove his elbow into the gunman’s chest like a steel spike.

There were no bones protecting that spot—only soft muscle and a major nerve plexus.

Only a seasoned Martial Artist would target such a place.

THUD!

The gunman’s body flew backward as if he’d been hit by a truck, his feet lifting clean off the ground.

His body flew back in an arc, covering more than two meters before slamming into the lead car’s rear bumper. He bounced off and crumpled to the pavement, curling into a ball and clutching his chest in agony.