Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

Three days later at midnight, Yau Ma Tei was a typical old tenement building district.

The exterior walls are mottled, and the neon signs sway precariously in the night wind, emitting a crackling electrical sound. The food stalls downstairs have just closed up shop, and the air is filled with the aroma of fried rice noodles and the stench of sewage.

However, on the sixth floor of this seemingly dilapidated tenement building, there is a hidden world.

Originally, this floor consisted of four separate, small units, but the internal partition walls have long since been quietly removed, transforming it into a huge, open-plan single-level space. The windows are sealed off with thick blackout curtains, leaving only a sliver of light to observe the street.

This is the safe house of the "Viper Gang" on Hong Kong Island.

The interior furnishings were a stark contrast to the dilapidated exterior. The walls were covered with all sorts of firearms, from MP5 submachine guns to Barrett sniper rifles; dumbbells and sandbags were placed in the corner; and sophisticated electronic components and a detailed map of Hong Kong Island were scattered on the table.

The most eye-catching feature is a row of sword racks against the wall, displaying several gleaming samurai swords.

"Lu Chen's security is much more sophisticated than we expected."

Bill sat cross-legged on an old sofa, toying with an exquisitely crafted bamboo flute in his hand, his eyes deep and thoughtful. "His bodyguards, to me, are more than just trained. Especially the one driving, his eyes... those are the eyes of a wolf."

"If we launch a frontal assault, our chances of winning are probably only fifty percent," Bill gave an objective assessment.

“Fifty percent? That’s too risky,” Budd said, taking a swig of beer and burping as he wiped his revolver. “We’re assassins, not kamikaze pilots. Bill, I don’t like doing things that don’t pay off.”

"So what suggestions do you have?" Bill asked his brother.

"Let's try a different approach. Since the hard approach isn't working, let's try the soft one. I've heard that although Lu Chen is a business genius, he has a common male flaw—a womanizer. He has many women around him, and it's said that he has little resistance to beautiful women."

Bard turned his head and looked at a young girl playing with a flail in the corner of the room.

She was dressed in a Japanese girls' high school uniform, with bangs, and a sweet and cute appearance, looking like a lost middle school student. But everyone present knew that this girl named Gogo was the most insane killing machine under Ishii Oren's command.

"Let Gogo go," Bud suggested. "Create a chance encounter, like being bullied by thugs or getting lost. As long as he can get close to Lu Chen, Gogo's appearance will definitely make him lower his guard."

"As long as she gets into Lu Chen's car, we can lure the convoy into our ambush zone under the guise of 'taking her home'..."

Bud made a clasping gesture. "We'll make our move in the narrow passage. Gogo will be inside the car, and we'll ambush from the outside. No matter how capable that security captain is, he can't protect a boss blinded by beauty."

"A honey trap?"

Bill frowned, and stopped playing his bamboo flute. He was an assassin with a strange "bushido" spirit; although he did dirty work, he preferred a fair fight.

"Using such underhanded tactics is disrespectful to that expert. It's also an insult to our own abilities," Bill said, somewhat resistant.

"Come on, Bill!" Bud stood up, somewhat annoyed. "This is Hong Kong Island, not your Western movie set! You said yourself that those security guards are no pushovers. If we fight them head-on, at least half of us will die!"

At this point, Bud glanced at Black Mamba (Kido), who was wiping his katana to the side—Bill's current lover and his darling.

"Do you want Guido to die here?" Bud asked bluntly.

Bill's gaze froze instantly.

He looked at Guido, who was still young at the time, with a light in his eyes.

If my stubbornness causes her to die...

There was a long silence.

"Alright," Bill sighed, picking up his bamboo flute again, "we'll do it your way, Gogo, tomorrow you..."

Before he could finish speaking...

"Thump."

A very faint sound, like the sound of some kind of tactical boots stepping on old floorboards, came up from downstairs.

The five people present were all top-tier assassins with extremely keen senses. Almost simultaneously, everyone froze in their tracks.

Bill's expression changed, and he rushed to the monitor.

The footage from the pinhole camera installed at the entrance of the building clearly showed several fully armed figures wearing gas masks and holding MP5 submachine guns.

They moved silently, their tactical movements precise, and were approaching the sixth floor.

"F**k! It's the cops!"

Bud cursed, "And it's the SDU! How did they get in here?"

"It seems our wealthy friend is even smarter than we thought," Bill sneered, a cold glint in his eyes. "He discovered us a long time ago, but instead of taking action himself, he called the police, hoping to use someone else to do his dirty work."

"Stop talking nonsense! Let's retreat!"

As professional assassins, what they fear most is confronting state law enforcement head-on, and even more so, being caught red-handed by them.

"Let's go to the rooftop! We'll meet at the backup safe house on Lantau Island!"

Bill made a quick decision.

The group acted swiftly, taking only the most essential weapons and cash, abandoning all other heavy equipment.

They opened the hidden door leading to the rooftop, and one by one, they slipped out like nimble cats, quickly disappearing into the night via the fire escape of the adjacent building.

Bill was the last to leave.

He looked at the marks all over the room and sneered.

"Since we're here, we should leave some gifts for our guests."

He took out a piece of C4 plastic explosive from his backpack and skillfully attached the detonator. Then, he took out a black Motorola pager and connected the pager's vibration motor interface to the detonator's initiator with a wire.

This is a simple yet extremely effective remote-controlled bomb.

As soon as someone dials this pager number, the pager receives the signal and generates a vibration current, which will instantly detonate C4.

Goodbye, officers.

Bill hid the bomb under the table, then turned and slipped into a secret door on the rooftop.

……

Thirty seconds later.

"Bang!"

With a loud crash, the door to the sixth floor was smashed open by a battering ram.

"Go go go! Police! Don't move!"

Two stun grenades rolled in first.

"Bang! Bang!"

After a flash of light and a loud bang, a squad of fully armed Flying Tigers stormed into the room, guns pointed at every corner.

However, the house was empty.

"Restaurant is safe!"

"Living room is safe!"

"Bedroom safety!"

"Reporting to the commander, the target has escaped. Repeat, the target has escaped. A large quantity of weapons and ammunition has been found at the scene."

The Flying Tigers commander, looking at the room full of weapons, felt a chill run down his spine. If these guys opened fire in the middle of the city, the consequences would be unimaginable.

The information provided by Inspector Chen's informant proved to be true.

That's right, this operation was organized by Chen Jun out of kindness. He is now the youngest chief inspector in West Kowloon, so he has no problem wielding this much power.

"Search! See if any clues have been left behind!" Chen Jun, the commander of this operation, gave the order from inside the command vehicle.

"Shit! There's a bomb!!"

Just then, the Flying Tigers captain, who was searching for traces at the front, discovered the C4 explosives in the corner. His face changed drastically, and he roared, "Retreat! Retreat now!!"

Downstairs, at the street corner, is a public telephone booth.

Bill pulled his hat down low, looking at the broken window on the sixth floor, holding a receiver in his hand.

He resembled an artist admiring fireworks, a graceful yet cruel smile on his face.

"Hello, is this the paging service?"

Bill said in fluent Cantonese, "Please call the owner of the phone number 3388 for me."

"What is the message?" came the operator's sweet voice.

The message is...

Bill glanced at his watch; the countdown was on.

"Game Over"

"Okay, message sent."

Bill hung up the phone and turned to walk towards an inconspicuous car parked by the roadside. He silently counted: three, two, one…

however.

One second passed, two seconds passed, and ten seconds passed.

The expected earth-shattering explosion did not occur. The tenement building remained standing quietly in the night, with no flames visible except for the shouts of police officers coming from the sixth floor.

……

At this moment.

Sixth floor, inside the safe room.

The atmosphere was so tense it was suffocating. All the Flying Tigers members retreated outside the door, shielding themselves with their shields.

There was only one young plainclothes police officer, who was squatting in front of the C4 bomb, sweating profusely.

He was clutching two batteries he had just pulled from the pager.

Just now, while everyone else panicked and ran outside after seeing the bomb, only he, the junior police officer from the technical department who came with the group to broaden his horizons, saw through the bomb's detonation mechanism at a glance.

He knew it was too late to run.

The power of C4 is enough to collapse this building; no matter how fast you run, you can't outrun the shockwave.

The only way to survive is to cut off the detonation device.

C4 is quite stable; without a detonator, it's just a lump of dough.

So he took a gamble.

Fortunately, due to time constraints, Bill did not have time to install a protective casing for the pager.

The pager screen even lit up a split second after Bill hung up, and the vibration motor had just turned half a circle—

"Clatter!"

He pried the battery out by force.

Death's finger stopped 0.01 millimeters from the trigger.

"Huff... huff..."

The young police officer slumped to the ground, panting heavily. The battery in his hand fell to the ground with a crisp sound. His back was soaked with cold sweat, and he looked as if he had been pulled out of the water.

"It's alright...we're safe now..."

Upon hearing his voice, the Flying Tigers captain cautiously peeked out from outside the door.

When the captain saw the device with the red light turned off and the young man lying on the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief, followed by the ecstatic joy of surviving a disaster.

"Well done! Handsome guy!"

The captain rushed in, grabbed the young man, and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "You scared me to death! You're really brave! If you'd been a second slower, we'd all be roasted pigs!"

"Me too... I'm taking a gamble." The young man wiped the sweat from his forehead and forced a smile.

"Which department are you in? What's your name? I'll definitely write a report for Inspector Chen and recommend you for commendation!" the captain asked excitedly.

The young man stood at attention and saluted, his hands still trembling slightly, but his eyes were unusually firm.

"Reporting, sir!"

"Police officer number PC63489".

"Currently a trainee inspector in the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Division."

"Zhang Zaishan."