A Bumpy Road to Power

"You never thought about this—what if the one who loses is you?"

Dirk Carter asked.

"Hahaha…"

Jethro Houseman burst out laughing.

Then, in a slow tone, he said, "Me, Jethro Houseman, started the revolution as a teenager. I've been through more fights than I can count. This officialdom, I see right through it. You think I'd lose to a snot-nosed kid like you?"

When he finished.

He stood up.

Both hands braced on his cane.

He swept a glance at the cops by the stairwell.

And said, "You've only got this many people. You really think you can protect Bohdan Sherwood? Keep dreaming. The only reason I'm showing myself is I don't want to hurt any innocents—includes you lot as well. Hand him over, and I'll leave you a way out. But if you insist on fighting to the bitter end, then I won't be so polite."

When he finished speaking.

He suddenly raised his head.

With a razor-sharp gaze he looked at Dirk Carter and asked, "You still don't plan to concede? You put your bet on someone who has nothing to do with you—think that's worth it?"

"It's worth it."

Dirk Carter said firmly.

"What about you guys?"

Jethro Houseman asked the cops at the stairwell.

To be honest, a scene like this still had a certain deterrent effect on these policemen.

Hesitation showed in everyone's eyes.

Just then, Dawson Sinclair shouted, "We listen to Mayor Sawyer. However he tells us to fight, that's how we fight. Even if we die here, we won't regret it."

Obviously.

Those words gave the cops strength.

They all started echoing him.

Seeing this.

Jethro Houseman let out a sigh.

He said, "Fine. Since you've all made your choice, I'll respect the choice of every one of you."

With that.

He waved at Jay Ford.

Then turned and started walking back, step by step.

When Jethro Houseman had gone some distance, Jay Ford barked with a vicious look in his eyes, "Grab the hardware!"

At that order.

A pickup truck drove right up near the cafeteria building.

The black suits surrounding the building ran quickly to the pickup.

A rain tarp over the bed was lifted.

Revealing a wooden crate.

When the crate was opened, it was packed with guns and ammo.

Seeing this.

Ezekiel Sawyer gave Dirk Carter a bitter little smile and said, "Mayor Carter, go back inside. Leave this to us. Don't worry—as long as I'm still breathing, I'll never let them get to the second floor."

When he finished, he stood on the balcony and said to the twenty-odd cops above and below, "Brothers, thank you for trusting me, Ezekiel Sawyer. Today is my fault—I brought you into a situation this dangerous. Since you're all willing to stay and make up for it, then let's go all in. On the road to the Yellow Springs, we'll walk side by side."

"On the road to the Yellow Springs, we'll walk side by side!"

Everyone shouted along.

Those with pistols drew their pistols, those with submachine guns pulled their bolts.

After all, they were just cops.

They didn't have much ammo on them.

And when they took the guns out of the armory today, none of them thought things would get this bad.

Now there was nowhere to retreat.

Like Ezekiel Sawyer said, the only option was to go all out.

"Mayor Sawyer, I'm counting on you."

Dirk Carter knew that once he went inside, it was anyone's guess whether they'd ever meet again.

His hand trembled slightly as he gripped Ezekiel Sawyer's.

Ezekiel Sawyer gave a faint smile.

He said, "Brother Dirk, I've lied to you so many times before—sorry about that. If we get the chance to meet again someday, I'll buy you a drink to make amends. If we never get that chance, then come have a drink with me in front of my grave."

"It's a deal."

The two hands were clasped tightly together.

As Dirk Carter turned to enter the private room, his eyes suddenly went wet.

He actually wanted to stay on the balcony and fight alongside Ezekiel Sawyer, but there were more important things waiting for him, so he couldn't.

At any time, the bigger picture had to come first.

The door to the private room had just closed.

Gunfire suddenly erupted outside.

A scene like that, they'd only ever seen in movies and TV—no one present had ever imagined it for real.

The whole thing lasted around ten-odd minutes.

Everyone in the room was drenched in sweat.

At the same time, everyone trapped in the Municipal Committee Building and the Municipal Government Building also heard the gunfire. They were just as terrified, all of them crouching under tables with their hands over their heads. In that moment, no one knew what they were thinking.

Gradually.

The gunshots grew sporadic.

Thump thump thump.

A frantic pounding sounded on the door.

Dawson Sinclair's voice rang out.

"Open up, open up…"

"Open the door, quick!"

Dirk Carter, who hadn't sat down once, immediately gave the order.

Gregory Bates, who'd been hiding under a table, jumped out as soon as he heard and blocked the person heading to open the door, shouting, "No. If we open it, we're all dead."

"Dirk, everyone outside is hurt."

Caleb Ford took a look through the crack of the door and shouted.

Ignoring Gregory Bates.

Dirk Carter waved his hand and said steadily, "Open the door."

"No. I said no, so it's no!"

Gregory Bates spread his arms and blocked the doorway.

He roared, "Those people outside have nothing to do with us. This door is not opening, no matter what."

"Secretary Bates, they're out there taking hits to save us."

Dirk Carter said earnestly.

Gregory Bates swallowed and said, "I know. But they've already made their choice. Since they chose to protect us, they protect us to the end. Either way, this door stays shut."

"Fuck your mother, you dogshit excuse for a man. With that kind of balls you still call yourself a leader? Get the hell out of the way."

Cosimo Griffin finally couldn't hold it in.

He grabbed Gregory Bates by the collar.

"You… you… you lay even one finger on me and you're dead."

Gregory Bates was still a little afraid of Cosimo Griffin; with Griffin hauling him up, even his voice was shaking.

Cosimo Griffin gave a flick of his hand.

He hurled Gregory Bates aside and strode over to yank the door open.

Cursing as he went, "We don't even know if we'll live to see tomorrow, and you think I'm scared of you? Get lost!"

The moment the door opened.

A man covered in blood collapsed inside.

None other than the one who'd been pounding on the door—Dawson Sinclair.

It was obvious his shoulder and arm had taken bullets.

He rolled over, pointed toward the balcony, and panted, "Sawyer… Sawyer…"

"What about Ezekiel Sawyer?"

Dirk Carter felt a jolt and asked.

He had just raised his head.

And he froze.

In the doorway of the private room, Jethro Houseman appeared.

Same as before, leaning on his cane, a faint smile on his face.

Behind him stood Jay Ford.

Behind Jay Ford were more than a dozen black suits with assault rifles.

That wasn't even the main thing. The main thing was that two of the black suits were carrying another "blood man" on their shoulders—that man was Ezekiel Sawyer.

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