Beginning with the Ubume Bird-Chapter 562 - 58 - The Flesh is Weak (Part 3)

The blast and shards of glass interrupted the melodious music and the fervent oration.

Alarm bells blared, and the violent explosion set off the banquet hall’s fire systems, spewing water from the mouths of marble statues around the room. The well-dressed elite were soaked in their screams like drowned rats.

"What’s happening?"

"We’re under attack!"

The hall was in complete disarray, the cacophony of shouts and cries like boiling water pressed under a lid, ready to explode at any moment.

"Everyone, stay calm! Stay calm!"

Mayor Michael shouted into the microphone, but before he could finish, the microphone in front of him was struck by a piece of glass. The shattered components and fragments gave him a jolt.

Through the gaps of what was left of the windows and doors, people saw intermingling flashes of fire and thick steam. There were also brief roars, gunshots, the grating sound of steel scraping the ground, and occasional screams.

After a while, there was sudden silence outside the door. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

As the crowd exchanged glances, the banquet hall’s four-meter-high solid wood doors slid open to the left and right. The pungent smell of gunpowder and rubber filled the hall.

In the empty doorway stood a man of no great height, his shadow stretched long behind him.

Behind him raged billowing black smoke, several security guards writhing and wailing in pools of blood, and scattered metallic wreckage. One could barely make out the remains of the patrolling flying orbs and steam hounds.

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Not long after the explosion at Cupid Tower, nearly the entire city’s Steam Guard was alerted.

The officers, wound up like springs, were mobilized, with steam vehicles from all quarters racing toward Cupid Tower.

But the citywide railway network, which normally allowed police cars to reach any corner of the city within half an hour, had mysteriously suffered extensive damage and ruptures. And to make matters worse, several trains hurrying to support Cupid Tower had been derailed completely off the tracks, adding to the chaos.

"What in the world is happening?"

The furious chief detective slammed the window of the train.

"We’ve found the cause of the rail faults!" a breathless officer reported: "The perpetrator had planted a large number of homemade steam-powered toy cars on the rail hubs of San Francisco. The principle behind the railway’s destruction is similar to the safety valve on a train’s boiler made of fusible lead. Its structure is crude; once the temperature gets too high, the Tri-Orb Device catalyzes the melting of the lead valve, and the molten lead pours into the crevices of the iron tracks and cools rapidly, causing the tracks to fracture internally due to the inability to withstand the extreme temperature differences."

Swallowing hard, the officer continued, "Such an imaginative method of crime, I’ve never seen it in my lifetime. The perpetrator must have a deep understanding of the railway structure, and he is also very familiar with the wear and tear of San Francisco’s railways; otherwise, it couldn’t have been done so perfectly."

The chief detective bellowed, "Am I supposed to give him a medal or what?! Order all officers to support Cupid Tower as fast as possible, use airships, quickly!"

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The clockwork innards of a dozen or so miniature combat units whirred as they charged into the hall from behind Chang Yu, their treads kicking up dust and pebbles. Despite being mere tens of centimeters tall, they exuded an extremely dangerous and unstable presence.

A Pinkerton agent equipped with a steam-powered suit instinctively fired his gun, shattering the shell of a miniature combat unit, with colorless steam hissing from within. Suddenly, with a spark, the unit’s metal skin glowed red, swelled, and then exploded violently.

"Get down!"

Robert’s voice was hoarse with desperation.

The blast sent flames surging across the hall like the tongues of hellhounds. Supporting beams and pillars were blown open with large fissures, and the majestic Cupid Tower shook continuously. The agent who had courageously fired his gun was the first to be engulfed by the fireballs and died instantly.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"

Robert yelled.

Staring blankly at the figure beneath the doorway, he tried to ask, "Chang Yu, is that you?"

St. Yves, hiding within the crowd, also looked up.

Chang Yu removed the hood of his cloak, his black hair and eyes framed by the brass mask appearing especially stern.

"Hello, Robert. I apologize for interrupting your moment of triumph, but there are some things I must do."

Robert, upon hearing this, shamefully lowered his head.

Chang Yu walked into the hall, his face illuminated by the light. He extended his hand towards the cellist on the side. "Please, continue."

The musician swallowed hard but didn’t move.

"Then forget it."

Chang Yu turned his face, the look in his eyes indescribable, and with an unclear meaning said, "I might have to take up a bit of your precious time, ladies and gentlemen. Please, put down your weapons and gather close together. Let’s not make any futile sacrifices."

The guests at the celebration banquet were herded together, loosely, by the threat of self-detonating personal weapons.

The process took a full ten minutes, yet only the patrol officers from a few nearby blocks had arrived on the scene.

San Francisco’s officers were renowned for their rapid response, which even Li Yan had marveled at, but at this moment, the city’s security downside of being overly reliant on public power devices was glaringly obvious.

Lacking the railcars that carried firepower, many heavy steam weapons and elite troops couldn’t reach the scene in time. Left with no other choice, the officers could only surround Cupid Tower on all sides, but they hesitated to attack for fear of damaging something invaluable.

The people in the hall stared at Chang Yu in horror, where occasionally someone’s low weeping prayers could be heard.

Chang Yu continued to walk forward; his eyes were full of bloodshot veins, though it was unclear whether from fury, fatigue, or the side effects of reading the "Book of Creation."

"I have a few questions regarding Mayor Michael of San Francisco."

Upon hearing this, Mayor Michael was not afraid but instead stepped forward with a determined face, "San Francisco will not compromise with any mobster."

Chang Yu was first startled, followed closely by an extremely violent surprise and rage.

"Well said, Mayor. I’ve lost my interest in asking you any questions now."

No sooner had he finished speaking than an old, revolving pistol emerged from the hem of his robe, its dark barrel pointing directly at Mayor Michael.

Old Mayor Michael pursed his lips and closed his eyes.

Everyone held their breath.

"Please, wait a moment!"

A clear and beautiful voice came from the crowd. Dorothy, who had dressed up for the evening party, now had her hair in disarray and was panting as she pleaded with Chang Yu, "My name is Dorothy, and I am a stage actress. I think I can guess why you’re here. I once donated ten thousand US Dollars from my own pocket to the Chinese General Association to improve their living conditions. After the new laws were enacted, I hired professional lawyers for the people of Chinatown and supported them in using local laws to accuse the city of inaction towards violence encountered by Chinese people. This morning after the Chinatown fire, I invited a reporter from the News Report to join me at the banquet, prepared to confront the Health Bureau and City Hall in person. This is the letter I wrote to the News Report reporter. I also have one prepared in advance, questioning City Hall and the Health Bureau for deliberately setting fire to Chinatown and causing numerous deaths among the Chinese people."

Dorothy was just an actress, and the explosions had been enough to scatter her resolve. She continued to breathe heavily, "I think I have some right to speak, don’t I?"

Chang Yu didn’t speak; he just coldly stared at Dorothy.

"Chang, have you ever considered that violence and bloodshed will only make those stubborn people despise you even more? They used to say that Chinese people were thieves, plague carriers, greedy and cunning criminals, but what will they say after you create a huge disturbance? They’ll say Chinese people are terrorists, ambitionists, bomb perpetrators. Those prejudiced, bitter people won’t shut up; instead, they’ll be even more unrelenting."

"If you shoot Mayor Michael, any crimes he might have committed will sink with him, and people will commemorate him as a hero who did not fear violence. Whatever you’ve gone through, I don’t suppose this is the result you want to see, is it?"

Chang Yu continued to stare coldly at Dorothy.

"San Francisco is a city of laws, Chang. Whoever abuses their power to kill innocent lives, they will be held accountable. Someone will call out their crimes." Dorothy’s voice softened, "You’re not some lone hero; you have like-minded people, and we will help you."

She swallowed, "Will you please put the gun down first?"

After four or five breaths had passed, Chang Yu pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Mayor Michael’s head, and a burst arc of red and white blood and shattered bone was seen. The shrieks persisted.

Dorothy collapsed to the ground with a thud.

"Miss Dorothy, you’ve interrupted my train of thought. Where was I?" Chang Yu pondered for a moment, "Oh, that’s right."

He raised his voice a bit, "I have a few questions regarding Medical Officer Jock Loudford, commander of this morning’s rat extermination operation. The first one is, are you a hero who does not fear the strong?"