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

Two days.

In just two days, the once stagnant international assassin world was thrown into turmoil by a bombshell.

The news spread like wildfire, rapidly reaching every corner of the globe via the dark web, encrypted satellite phones, and the assassins' coded channels. From New York's upscale vintage lounges to Osaka's rain-soaked gangster teahouses, and even secret hideouts near the ruins of the Roman Colosseum, everyone was chilled to the bone by one fact—

The "Viper Gang," a killer organization spanning North America and East Asia known for its cruelty, efficiency, and mystery, was completely wiped out on Hong Kong Island.

It wasn't a repulsion, it wasn't a severe blow, it was a complete annihilation.

Bill, the man targeted by countless up-and-coming assassins, the master of guns and samurai swords, along with his most elite assassin squad, evaporated instantly on the tiny island of Hong Kong, like a drop of water falling into a boiling oil pan, leaving not even a trace of bones behind.

And the organization that accomplished all of this was called "The Winery".

That "distillery," which had previously only garnered some local attention, suddenly found itself on the watch list of the world's top powers. All the assassin organizations that accepted missions involving the distillery tacitly doubled their bids, knowing that a group of truly insane individuals were lurking there.

However, in this dog-eat-dog world, not all endings are written on the death list.

In a dark alley outside Kowloon Walled City, an ambulance with flashing blue lights struggles to make its way across a muddy road.

"Damn it, in this awful weather, in this awful place, how could someone be lying here?" the young paramedic complained as he jumped out of the ambulance.

Deep in the alley, next to a trash can, lay a blonde woman covered in blood. Her yellow bodysuit was stained dark brown with blood, and the wounds on her abdomen and thighs were horrific; she looked as if she had crawled out of a meat grinder.

"She's a beautiful girl, but it doesn't seem like there's any point in trying to save her, after all—" The paramedic checked her breathing, his fingers trembling suddenly, "Oh my god, she's still breathing! Quick, stretcher! Get the defibrillator ready!"

This woman was Guido.

As the ambulance doors slammed shut and the siren pierced the long night, no one knew that this woman, once feared throughout the assassin world, though on the verge of a long vegetative state, had ultimately stolen a life from the Grim Reaper's scythe.

Of course, all of this was no longer important to Lu Chen, who was now 10,000 meters in the air.

……

London, Heathrow Airport.

The massive Boeing 747 tore through the thick clouds and landed on the wet runway with a tremendous roar.

The London sky was as overcast as ever, a greyish-white fog shrouding the ancient city, and a fine drizzle cast a melancholic filter over everything. There was none of the flamboyant neon lights and humid restlessness of Hong Kong Island; the air was thick with the scent of engine oil, rain, and the stale atmosphere left by centuries of imperial history.

"Is this what they call the 'Empire on which the sun never sets'? I don't think the sun has ever risen."

Lu Chen stepped out of the cabin, pulling his black trench coat tighter around himself, feeling the damp chill creep into his collar. He wore frameless glasses, making him look like a promising young Asian scholar or a senior consultant for a multinational corporation.

Following behind him, Tian Yangsheng carried two silver metal briefcases, his face expressionless, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily. Xiao Zhuang, on the other hand, had changed into a British-style tweed suit and was carrying a black long-handled umbrella, looking quite gentlemanly.

For this operation, Tornado stayed on Hong Kong Island to oversee the main base. After all, the "distillery" had just established its authority, and it couldn't be without a heavyweight guarding it.

"Boss, the car has arrived," Tian Yangsheng said in a low voice.

Several black Land Rover Defenders silently pulled up at the VIP exit. The doors opened, and without any fanfare, several Westerners in black suits quickly approached and opened umbrellas for Lu Chen.

To avoid attracting official attention, Lu Chen and his group entered the country in batches. Lu Chen, Tian Yangsheng, and Xiao Zhuang formed the first group, while the remaining technical personnel and logistical support staff disguised themselves as tourists or business delegations and were dispersed on the following flights.

The convoy entered the M4 motorway and sped towards central London.

The scenery outside the window rushed past, transitioning from the steel jungle of the industrial area to the red-brick buildings of the Victorian era. Lu Chen leaned back in the seat, his fingers lightly tapping his knees, constructing a three-dimensional map of the city in his mind.

London, one of the world's financial centers, is also a battleground where various forces are deeply intertwined. It houses not only MI6 and Scotland Yard, but also countless clandestine organizations.

"Boss, where are we going?" Xiao Zhuang asked, turning around from the passenger seat.

"Kensington," Lu Chen uttered casually, "that was our first 'home' in Europe."

……

Kensington, Gloucester Road.

This is a typical affluent neighborhood, with plane trees lining the streets and elegant, solemn white townhouses. The convoy stopped in front of an unassuming four-story Victorian building.

From the outside, the house is indistinguishable from the surrounding mansions, even displaying a bronze plaque that reads "Private Art Appreciation Society" at the entrance. But only a very few people know that this is a secret outpost of the High Table in London.

The door opened, and a tall, elegant, blonde woman with well-defined muscles stood waiting in the entryway.

This is Susan, the High Table's Operations Director in London.

"Welcome to London, Mr. Lu." Susan bowed slightly.

Since Lu Chen completed the High Table's unification of Italy in Sicily, Susan has been ordered to act as the vanguard, using the High Table's resources and connections to facilitate Lu Chen's landing in Japan.

"Thank you for your hard work." Lu Chen nodded and walked into the house. The interior decoration was luxurious yet understated. Several oil paintings, of dubious authenticity, hung on the walls. The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, dispelling the chill from outside.

"The purpose of calling everyone all the way to London is very clear," Lu Chen's gaze swept over everyone, his eyes revealing a light that was a mixture of fervor and calmness, "We're going to pull off something big."

As she spoke, Susan began her demonstration.

Susan turned on the slideshow, and a magnificent architectural photograph appeared on the screen.

"Standard Chartered, London global headquarters." Susan's voice was cool and professional. "As a bank whose main business is concentrated in Asia, Africa and the Middle East, its London headquarters is very special. It does not have a cash vault, nor does it have a regular savings business."

"Then what should we rob? The pens of those bankers?" Xiao Zhuang frowned.

Lu Chen smiled, a smile full of meaning: "In the financial world, information is far more valuable than gold. This headquarters building is the 'strategic decision-making hub' for Standard Chartered Bank's global operations. In other words, it's the brain."

He stretched out his finger and pointed to the underground part of the model.

"On the fifth basement level of this building, there is a vault codenamed 'The Black Box.' What's stored there isn't cash, but rather all the bank's secret transaction records in Asia, Africa, and Latin America over the past fifty years, evidence of money laundering by political figures, and the shady flow of funds related to coups and resource plunder."

"Um, boss, do you mean we should steal this information and then make it public?" Tian Yangsheng asked.

"Making it public would be too wasteful," Lu Chen shook his head. "I want to use this information as leverage to shake up the entire European underworld. 'The Distillery' can't just reign supreme in Asia. I want London, and the entire Western world, to tremble because of our existence."

“But…” Susan interrupted, her expression grave, “According to the information we’ve gathered, his defense system is top-notch. The ‘black box’ is not only guarded around the clock by retired SAS (Special Air Service) personnel, but also by the world’s most advanced biometric system. What’s more troublesome is that the vault’s alarm is directly connected to the London Metropolitan Police Department. Once the alarm sounds, the London Special Police will arrive within three minutes.”

"It sounds like a dead end," Xiao Zhuang commented, taking a sip of his drink and frowning.

"There are no dead ends in this world, only imperfect plans," Lu Chen zoomed in on the projection, pointing to the building's ventilation system. "A direct assault is impossible; we need to outsmart them. I heard that to save money, the entire building used a single ventilation system..."

……

As night deepened, the rain in London intensified.

Looking out from the safe house in Kensington, one can almost see the skyscrapers of the financial district looming in the rain and mist, like a sleeping giant.

Inside the belly of that behemoth, countless greedy secrets slumber, awaiting a group of "ghosts" from the East to unleash them completely.

Lu Chen stood by the window, looking at his reflection in the glass.

"Dear John, the game begins."

He muttered to himself, gently swirling the wine glass in his hand, leaving streaks of blood on the glass's surface from the crimson liquid.