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

38 Bishopsgate, City of London.

This is a rather understated building amidst the concrete jungle. Compared to the surrounding skyscrapers that seem to pierce the clouds, Standard Chartered Bank's global headquarters has only seven floors above ground. It's like an old gentleman in a classic double-breasted suit, silently crouching in the heart of the financial district where every inch of land is precious, arrogantly surveying the restless nouveau riche around him.

However, those in the know understand that the true value of this building lies not above ground, but underground.

It's like an iceberg; the seven layers above the water are merely a facade for administration and reception. The real behemoth—the five-story underground vault and data center with its own nuclear explosion-proof standards—is its true form. Buried there are countless financial secrets left behind by the Japanese Empire in the Far East and Africa over half a century.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the sky was still overcast and leaden, and the drizzle washed the whole street wet, cold and greasy.

Across the street, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the "Penny Black" café.

Lu Chen, wearing a black cashmere trench coat, sat casually by the window. A steaming cup of Americano sat on the table in front of him, next to a copy of today's *The Times*, its front page discussing the continuously declining Hang Seng Index in Hong Kong.

"This is a good location." Lu Chen stirred his coffee gently, his gaze piercing through the rain to the revolving doors of Standard Chartered's headquarters across the street. "You can see every soul that goes through these doors."

"Boss, everything is ready." Tian Yangsheng's calm voice came through the earpiece. "Wind direction, traffic conditions, and even the real-time dispatch frequency of the London Fire Brigade are all being monitored."

Lu Chen picked up his coffee and took a sip. The bitter taste spread on his tongue, followed by a sweet aftertaste.

He raised his wrist and glanced at the time.

"Let's begin then."

He whispered the order into his headset, his tone as flat as if he were saying, "Give me another spoonful of sugar."

"Let's add some heat to this dull London afternoon."

……

Inside 38 Bishop Gate, outside a large archive room on the third floor.

Two men in blue cleaning uniforms were pushing a cart piled high with cleaning agents and miscellaneous items, slowly walking down the thickly carpeted corridor.

The lean man on the left, with an uncontrollable restlessness in his eyes, is none other than "Martial Arts Maniac" Feng Yuxiu.

He looked somewhat awkward at this moment, constantly tugging at his slightly tight collar, and complaining in a low voice, "Why did you make me do this? Wouldn't it have been faster to just charge in? This shirt is making me uncomfortable."

"Because the boss said to keep a low profile." Xiao Fu, who was pushing the cart on the right, seemed much calmer. He smiled憨厚ly and casually held a bottle of strong stain remover in his hand. "This is London, not Kowloon Walled City. There are cameras everywhere. It's easy to break in, but it's hard to leave without a trace."

"Tch." Feng Yuxiu curled his lip in disdain, but his hands moved extremely fast.

Taking advantage of the fact that no one was around, the two quickly slipped into a storage room located at the main node of the ventilation duct.

Xiao Fu pulled out several inconspicuous black cubes from a hidden compartment at the bottom of the cleaning truck. They weren't explosives, but rather a specially made solid magnesium-aluminum incendiary agent mixed with highly smoke-producing chemicals. Once ignited, this substance wouldn't produce a violent explosive shockwave, but it would instantly release temperatures of several thousand degrees and a dense cloud of smoke, enough to ignite a flammable material.

After completing this, the two quickly evacuated to the next location, and soon all three ventilation nodes on the third floor were filled with this thing.

Drip, drip, drip—

On that black square, the red light was flashing rapidly.

Three minutes later.

"boom--"

A muffled explosion echoed deep within the third-floor ventilation shaft. Immediately afterward, the piercing sound of a fire alarm shattered the tranquility of the office building.

"Fire! Fire!"

Someone shouted first, and then, thick black smoke billowed out from the central air conditioning vents like a black venomous snake, quickly filling the entire third floor and spreading up and down the stairwell.

The once orderly bank headquarters instantly erupted into chaos. The impeccably dressed bankers, secretaries clutching documents, and analysts rushing about all abandoned any semblance of decorum, covering their mouths and noses, and frantically scrambling towards the emergency exits under the guidance of security personnel.

From the far end of the street came the mournful sound of police sirens.

The first red fire truck roared in, followed by the second, the third...

The City of London fire station responded remarkably quickly, in just ten minutes. Three red fire trucks, sirens blaring, sped across the intersection and came to an abrupt stop in front of 38 Bishop Gate.

Firefighters dressed in yellow and black fireproof suits jumped off the vehicle and began laying out hoses and setting up ladders.

The scene was chaotic, with smoke billowing from the third-floor windows, the black smoke particularly glaring against the gloomy sky.

Just as the on-site commander—a burly white man with a full beard—was yelling into the walkie-talkie to direct manpower, another heavy engine roar came from the street corner.

A brand-new, heavy-duty foam fire truck, not belonging to his jurisdiction, broke through the rain like a steel beast, and stopped aggressively but precisely at the core of the main entrance, blocking the fire chief's view.

The car door opened, and seven tall, fully armed "firefighters" jumped out.

They were wearing top-of-the-line firefighting suits and full-face respirators, obscuring their faces, but their synchronized movements and the chilling aura they exuded drew the attention of even the real firefighters around them.

"Hey! Which station are you from?" The bearded commander ran over, frowning, and demanded loudly, "I didn't request backup! I don't see your vehicles on the dispatch list for this area!"

"The Canning Town Precinct Special Operations Unit," Tian Yangsheng responded coldly in a standard London accent, even with a hint of arrogance, "has someone on the upper echelons to say 'something.' You know, there are some important people's assets in this building, and the higher-ups don't want to see it burned to the ground. So they sent us here to 'take special care' of the underground facilities."

The commander was taken aback.

He glanced at the vehicle, which was clearly modified and more advanced than a regular fire truck, and then at the group's overly efficient movements. Instantly, he imagined a dramatic workplace political scene unfolding in his mind.

Standard Chartered Bank is a major client, and it's all too common in London for its top management to send their trusted associates to curry favor and protect assets.

"Damn bunch of sycophants," the commander cursed inwardly, but his expression softened. He waved his hand. "Fine! Since you were sent from above, the basement is yours! Don't get in my way!"

"Thanks." Tian Yangsheng's lips curled into a barely perceptible sneer.

He turned around and made a gesture to his six brothers behind him—Tian Yangyi, Tian Yangzhi, Tian Yangen, and others.

"Brothers, let's get to work."

Seven people, carrying fire extinguishers and demolition tools, strode into the smoke-filled hall against the flow of fleeing people.

They didn't come to put out a fire.

They've come to add fuel to the fire.

Upon entering the lobby, they skillfully navigated the chaotic space, symbolically spraying the smoking fire spots twice with their high-pressure water guns before quickly turning into a side passage marked "Employee Only".

This area features a dedicated elevator and emergency staircase leading to the underground level.

"The fire was mainly caused by a lot of smoke. The actual point of combustion was contained in the ventilation shaft on the third floor by Yu Xiu, so it will not affect the structure." Tian Yangyi, as the team's brain, was responsible for real-time control of the pace. "But the smoke has triggered the alarm for the entire building. The ventilation system in the basement has been automatically shut down. Now the area below should be oxygen-deficient and full of smoke."

"This is the effect we wanted," Tian Yangsheng said coldly.

Starting from the third basement level, you enter the core area of ​​Standard Chartered Bank. The security level here was originally extremely high, but now that the fire alarm has been triggered, the electronic access control system has automatically entered "escape mode," and most of the physical locks have been unlocked.

A few security personnel who were still on duty and hadn't left yet saw this group of fully armed "firefighters" and thought they were there to evacuate them.

"There's no one here! Hurry up!" shouted a man who looked like a security supervisor.

Tian Yangsheng walked up to him, his voice muffled through the mask: "Is there anyone else down there?"

"Gone! Everyone on the fourth and fifth basement levels has already run away! Those are enclosed spaces; once the power goes out and the ventilation system stops, whoever stays down there will die!" the supervisor shouted.

"Thanks."

Tian Yangsheng nodded, then raised his hand without warning.

A swift, lightning-fast palm strike landed heavily on the supervisor's carotid artery.

The supervisor didn't even utter a sound, rolled his eyes, and collapsed limply to the ground.

"Third brother, drag him to the nearby electrical substation, make sure he's not blocking the way." Tian Yangsheng stepped over him and continued downwards.

Five underground floors.

The air here was even colder than upstairs, and the emergency lights emitted a ghastly red glow, illuminating the long corridor like a scene from a horror movie.

At the end was a massive alloy door, half a meter thick. This was the legendary "black box."

Just as the security supervisor had predicted, there were no guards present.

"Second brother, go to the monitoring room and erase all the footage from the last ten minutes, replacing it with a static screen to block out fire interference," Tian Yangsheng ordered. "The rest of you, come with me inside and move our things."

"Understood." Tian Yangyi, carrying a jammer, turned and walked towards the security monitoring center on the other side.

"Let's do it."

Tian Yangsheng walked to the door and took out the decoder he had prepared earlier from his pocket.

The biometric information that Xiao Zhuang and Susan obtained at the charity gala a few days ago—iris, fingerprint, and palm print—is now all integrated into this small box.

"Beep—Identity confirmed: CEO."

"Beep—Identity confirmed: Chief Risk Officer."

"Beep—Identity confirmed: Operations Director"

Three crisp electronic sounds echoed in the empty basement.

Then, accompanied by the heavy sigh of the hydraulic system, the door, which was said to be "opened only by God and the Queen," slowly slid open to both sides.

There were no gold bars or piles of cash in the vault.

There were only rows of cold metal filing cabinets and a temperature-controlled glass display case in the center.

Tian Yangsheng strode in without hesitation and headed straight for the area marked "S-1981".

"It's all here." Tian Yangzhi opened a drawer, which was filled with microfilm reels and several top-secret files sealed in kraft paper. "Code name 'Imperial Twilight,' and all the shady accounts Standard Chartered Bank has had in Africa and Asia over the past twenty years."

"Pack everything up." Tian Yangsheng tossed over several specially made fireproof and waterproof tactical backpacks. "Don't leave a single piece of paper behind."

"These British guys are really sick," Tian Yangyong said, flipping open a file and pursing his lips. "They even have the child support bills for a royal family member's illegitimate child born overseas decades ago."

"That's their foundation: whoever controls the secret controls the power. Unfortunately, from today onwards, that power belongs to the boss."

The brothers moved with lightning speed, like autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves. The incriminating evidence, enough to bring down the British government and behead countless African warlords, was thus roughly stuffed into their backpacks.

"Big brother, what about this?" Tian Yang'en pointed to a document in the central display case.

It was a yellowed parchment contract with the royal sealing wax seal on it.

Tian Yangsheng glanced at it and sneered, "That's the original charter that authorized Standard Chartered Bank to issue currency in the colonies. Take it; it'll look quite nice as decoration in the boss's toilet."

"Crack." The glass shattered, and the license was rolled up and stuffed into the bag.

In just five minutes.

The entire vault looked like it had been gnawed by locusts; nothing was left except for the empty cabinets.

"withdraw."

Tian Yangsheng waved his hand, and everyone picked up their backpacks and quickly left the vault.

The door closed again.

When Yangyi returned to his unit after completing the data destruction on the third basement level that day, the fire in the building had been brought under control and the smoke was beginning to dissipate, but chaos still lingered.

The seven children of Tianyang put their masks back on, carrying "rescue equipment" (actually backpacks full of secrets), and mingled among several teams of firefighters who were actually evacuating.

They even went so far as to help several "trapped" security personnel out.

The main entrance.

The bearded commander, sweating profusely, removed his helmet. Seeing Tian Yangsheng and the others emerge, he casually asked, "How's it going down there?"

Tian Yangsheng helped the security personnel onto the ambulance, then, panting, said, "The fire hasn't gone down, it's just that there's a lot of smoke. The basement is safe; no important facilities were affected, so don't worry."

"Well done, brother!" The commander patted Tian Yangsheng on the shoulder and handed him a bottle of water. "I'll treat your branch to drinks another day!"

"That's a must." Tian Yangsheng took the water, his standard London accent leaving the big man with no doubt.

He then led his men to jump onto the fire truck.

Engines roared, and sirens blared once more.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, this "honored" fire truck, carrying the darkest secrets of the British Empire, swaggered away from the scene and disappeared into the misty streets of London.