Chu Zihang paused slightly and looked around. He held his sword horizontally on his left arm, the tip pointing slightly downward, dark water droplets slowly dripping off. More shadows emerged from the thick fog. Chu Zihang no longer had time to distinguish whether this was real or an illusion, much like that typhoon from the past. Back then, he was still a frail boy, but now he was burning with dragon blood. There was no hesitation, and no need to question causality—the storm of his blade once again cut through the dense fog.
What is the enemy? Cut it down, and it ceases to matter!
Cassell College Headquarters, Central Command Room.
“The opponents are hunters, some of whom may have the bloodline. Since this recovery mission is in China, and we don’t want to attract the police, we need to wrap it up quickly. That’s why we’re deploying a nine-person team. The board of directors has already approved the plan, and we’ll be directing from here.” Manstein glanced at his watch. “Forty-five minutes until the operation begins.”
A 3D structure of Rende Building was projected into the air, and Schneider paced around it slowly.
“Where is Mingfei?” Guderian flipped through the plan. “I don’t see which part Mingfei is in charge of.”
“Regulating the command, an important job,” Manstein said. He hadn’t assigned Lu Mingfei a specific role in the plan because, judging by his coursework, Lu Mingfei had undergone minimal training and had no ability to take on any responsibilities.
Guderian nodded in understanding.
“The core objective is to break into the 21st floor of Building A of Rende Building, the headquarters of Millennium Company. The documents should be there,” Manstein said. “Rende Building is a twin-tower structure, with the 21st floor of Building A entirely owned by the company.”
“Just a business building, and you need a nine-person team? Sounds like you’re planning an attack on the Pentagon!” Guderian remarked.
“If we were going after the Pentagon, we’d need at least seven more people,” Schneider said without expression. “Security at Rende Building is tight. The developer outsourced the building’s security to these hunters, so the entire building is full of their men. They know that their business cannot be exposed, so they use this method to protect themselves.” He gestured, and the 3D structure turned into a cross-section of the building, with all routes marked in red—including the stairs, elevators, fire exits, and even the ventilation ducts. “All routes are under the security team’s control. Reaching Tang Wei on the 21st floor requires an elevator transfer and passing through four checkpoints. The worst part is that the first five floors of the building are commercial areas, and the flow of people will affect our speed. If the operation takes longer than five minutes, the police will arrive, and the hunters will have time to move the documents.”
“Five minutes?” Guderian was puzzled. “The elevator might not even make it in five minutes.”
“We’re not using the elevator,” Manstein said. “We’re taking the direct route!”
18:15, the sun was setting. Chu Zihang looked up at the glass façade of the building, seeing the gathering evening clouds reflected in it. His earpiece crackled with static, connecting him once again to campus headquarters across the Pacific.
“Have you finished reading the operation plan?” Schneider’s raspy voice came through the earpiece.
“Low-difficulty mission. If the opponents don’t have anyone with high bloodline density, I can handle it alone without needing their support,” Chu Zihang said. “The people from Maintenance are too conspicuous.”
“Follow orders,” Schneider said. “We’ve already instructed them to dress casually and keep a low profile. They will meet up with you in 30 minutes. Another team has already, per your request…” Schneider paused. “…gone to Lu Mingfei’s home.”
“Understood.”
“This is China. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re in an unmonitored region like the deserts of West Africa and cause too much commotion!” Schneider’s voice lowered. “Your previous records have some issues—you know that yourself. Don’t let the school investigate you.”
“Understood,” Chu Zihang said. “But aren’t you the school, Professor?”
Schneider was momentarily speechless. “Alright, that’s enough! This is a low-profile mission. No helmets, firearms, blades, tactical flashlights, or alchemy gear from the Gear Department lunatics. From the perspective of the police, this shouldn’t look like an organized invasion…”
“But more like a bank robbery,” Chu Zihang suddenly said.
Schneider was stunned for a moment. “Yes… it kind of is.”
18:30, a thick layer of clouds started to gather across the entire city as if heralding a downpour.
Tang Wei picked up his phone. “Front desk? Has the courier arrived to pick up the package yet?”
“No, Mr. Tang, it’s about to rain. I doubt they’ll come today,” the receptionist replied, her voice soft and flirtatious.
“It was sunny this afternoon—how could it start raining so soon?” Tang Wei looked out the window. The clouds had already covered the entire city, a dark and foreboding prelude to a storm.
The sudden weather change made Tang Wei uneasy, as if something was about to happen. He logged into the “Hunter Market” to take one last look at the website.
He entered the ID and password for “3rd_young_master” and pressed enter. The page refreshed from top to bottom—a pitch-black background, dark green lines, crimson text—as if a doorway to another world had opened before him. He aimlessly switched between different sections, browsing his task history and wondering if he should post a farewell message in the idle chat section. Perhaps his friends would send messages to bid him farewell—something like “Farewell to the Third Young Master, heading to a beautiful land of long-legged girls,” which would be very touching.
“You have one unread message,” flashed the notification in the top right corner.
The email content was only one word: “Byebye.”
Someone actually guessed he was about to leave the scene? Who was so smart as to know his intentions? Tang Wei moved his gaze to the sender’s name… and found it blank.
No Sender.