Name: My father is Zhao Dehan, and I hope he will become a dragon!

Miao Qingzheng's face was extremely ugly.

State secrets, reporters went to take pictures.

Thinking about it, this is really quite exciting.

At that moment, Miao Qing felt her head buzzing.

"I need to make a call, I need to make them withdraw!" Miao Qing frantically pulled out her phone.

Zhao Dehan just stared coldly at Miao Qingzheng, feeling that this method was not Gao Yuliang's. With Gao Yuliang's keen senses, he couldn't possibly not know that the Guangming Peak project involved some secrets, and he would never be so irrational.

That means the subordinates acted on their own initiative.

In other words, Gao Yuliang has lost control of the Handa gang!

Just then, the phone on Sha Ruijin's desk rang first.

Then, Sha Ruijin picked up the phone: "Hello, it's me, Sha Ruijin. Okay, okay, I understand!"

Hang up.

Sha Ruijin sighed.

Seeing Miao Qingzheng frantically trying to dial the phone, unable to get through due to nervousness, he said indifferently, "It's too late. The reporters have already gone, and they've had a fierce clash with the National Security officers!"

Pfft!

Miao Qing lost her composure and plopped down on the ground.

Only two words came to mind: swirling.

It's over, it's over!

……

……

11:00 AM, entrance to the Guangming Peak construction site.

Three reporters, carrying video cameras and wearing press passes for the "In-Depth Investigation Team" of the *Handong Metropolitan Daily*, *Handong Economic Observer*, and other newspapers, stormed toward the police cordon.

"We are legitimate media! We have the right to conduct interviews!"

The middle-aged man leading the group held up his identification and shouted, "The Guangmingfeng plot involves public interest, and the government has no right to obstruct it!"

The security captain stepped forward, his voice steady: "Comrade, please stop."

Seeing the group of reporters, the security captain frowned slightly, but still spoke with great restraint: "This area has been included in the provincial key project confidentiality management scope. Entry, photography, and interviews are not allowed without permission."

"Stop using secrecy to scare people!"

Another young reporter sneered: "Zhao Dehan's son got the land for nothing, and we can't even ask questions? Is this what you call 'fairness and justice'?"

Before the words were even finished, a group of people shoved aside the security guards and headed straight for the core area—

The camera quickly panned across the metal grille of the underground laboratory ventilation shaft, the "Military Dual-Circuit Power Supply - 02 Special Project" sign on the outer wall of the substation, and even the name tag revealed when a worker bent down to pick up a tool: "Chongming Technology | National 02 Special Project Lithography Unit".

"Take pictures! Take pictures of everything!"

The lead reporter's eyes gleamed, and he lowered his voice: "This is irrefutable evidence! Zhao Dehan is using the guise of 'national strategy' to launder money for his son!"

At that very moment—

"stop!"

A sharp shout rang out like thunder.

Several black SUVs sped up, their tires crunching over gravel and kicking up dust.

The car doors opened simultaneously, and a dozen or so people dressed in dark uniforms with armbands prominently displaying the words "Ministry of State Security of the People's Republic of China" quickly disembarked, spreading out in tactical formation with swift, eagle-like movements.

The leader was about forty years old and had a stern face.

He strode forward: "Stop! You are suspected of illegally entering a classified area and filming major national science and technology infrastructure without authorization, which violates Article 32 of the Law on Guarding State Secrets. Put down your equipment immediately, put your hands behind your head, and squat down! Hand over everything you have filmed!"

The reporters were taken aback, then stubbornly resisted.

"Who are you? What gives you the right to order us around?"

The lead reporter shouted, "We are journalists! We are protected by national laws!"

"National laws also require citizens to protect state secrets," the national security officer said firmly. "Any further action would be considered violent resistance to law enforcement!"

"Nonsense!"

The young reporter suddenly raised his camera and pointed it at them, shouting, "I'm going to expose your abuse of power!"

He suddenly lunged forward—

The national security personnel's eyes sharpened, and they acted instantly.

No batons, no fists or kicks, only standard counter-grappling techniques:

With a clean and decisive "pressure point control" maneuver, the reporter screamed as the camera slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.

The other two tried to escape, but were intercepted by two state security officers.

One person attempted to snatch a memory card and stuff it into his pocket, but was forced to have his hands tied behind his back and pressed against the security railing, which emitted a piercing hum.

Another person shouted, "I want to file a complaint!"

Before he could finish speaking, he was already handcuffed with anti-interference handcuffs—non-metallic material, specially designed for use in confidential locations to prevent signal transmission.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" the lead reporter screamed, struggling. "The public has the right to know the truth!"

The other reporters' eyes were already darting around in all directions.

Suddenly, a reporter started snapping photos of the surrounding area with a camera.

Then, he turned and ran.

stop!

The captain of the Beijing Guoan team spoke up.

However, this reporter was also extremely fast.

The captain of the National Security team frowned, then quickly swung the baton from his waist with a whoosh, accurately striking the reporter's calf.

Pfft!

The reporter immediately fell to the ground.

The other reporters scattered and fled in all directions.

The national security captain took a deep breath, quickly subdued the reporters who had fallen to the ground, glanced at the others, and uttered a cold, ruthless voice: "Attack!"

All the team members began to take action.

Since you won't listen to my kind words, then I won't be polite with this baton in my hand.

In an instant, the reporters were all beaten and ran away with their heads in their hands.

An unrestricted fighting tournament.

To be precise, it was a one-sided beating.

This was in 2007, so naturally there were no body cameras or similar devices.

Beating you up would be the least of my worries.

Even if you kill him, it's still considered spying on state secrets.

A reporter, beaten and curled up on the ground, still managed to shout, "The people have the right to know the truth!"

The national security captain leaned down, staring into his eyes, and said, word by word, "The truth is not defined by you. National security is not a tool for you to gain clicks."

He straightened up, looked around the scene, and saw that everyone was under control.

He then waved his hand, signaling: "All electronic equipment will be sealed and sent for inspection, and treated as classified materials. People, take them back for questioning."

Even as a group of reporters were being forced into a car, they continued to shout and curse.

Then, unsurprisingly, the one who was yelling and cursing got a beating again.

Those who had already been hit by the police baton now kept quiet and obedient.

These people are too barbaric.

They must be exposed severely.

However, once the car door closed, isolating the outside world, only heavy breathing and the cold touch of metal handcuffs remained in the darkness.

They finally realized that they had stumbled upon a construction site.

It seems, it seems, that it really does involve state secrets.

It seems that I have crossed a national red line that cannot be crossed.

In the distance, tower cranes stand silently.

In the underground laboratory, the laser calibration system emitted a faint hum.

On the ground, construction continues.