Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

The morning mist, like blood-soaked cotton, pressed down on the rooftops of the old town, making it hard to breathe.

A dozen or so security vehicles were scattered at the intersection of the crisscrossing alleys. The red and blue police lights had long been turned off, leaving only the stark white headlights that pierced through the cracks, casting menacing shadows on the weeds at the base of the walls.

Two security guards kicked open the resident's door. The beam of their flashlight swept across the rust on the door number, and the buzzing of the walkie-talkie cut through the damp, cold air. The replies, "No," "No," and "Not here either," hit the brick wall and bounced back, making the guards' temples throb.

Someone kicked over a metal trash can by the roadside. The can rolled a long way, making a loud clattering sound as it crashed back and forth in the narrow alley, causing plaster to fall off the walls.

"Damn it! Where is that beast hiding?!" The curses, accompanied by spittle, landed on the ground.

Fang Yuan stood at the crossroads, the walkie-talkie in his hand crumpled from his grip: "Group Three, head north; Group Four, head east. Go through all the abandoned factories and warehouses. He's injured; he can't go far."

A young man in a police uniform ran from the alleyway, leaning against the wall and panting heavily. Blood seeped from the torn parts of his trousers. "Squad Leader Fang," he said, "there are at least a hundred old buildings in this area. Even if we searched them all tomorrow, we wouldn't be able to finish!"

Just as Fang Yuan was about to speak, he heard the screeching sound of tires crushing gravel behind him.

Three cars screeched to a halt at the roadside. The first two were black SUVs without license plates, while the third had a municipal bureau license plate with a gleamingly bright paint job.

Branch Director Ma Guoliang got out of the car first, his face ashen, as if frozen.

Following behind was a middle-aged man in his early forties wearing a black trench coat, his hair neatly combed, and a cold glint in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes.

Behind him followed a group of people dressed in black combat uniforms, with no insignia on their chests. Their steps were so synchronized that they seemed to be cut from the same mold, and the sound of their boots hitting the ground was so heavy that it made one's heart tighten.

Fang Yuan's heart sank suddenly, as if a block of ice had fallen on it.

Ma Guoliang walked up to him, his voice low but clearly audible to everyone around: "Old Fang, this is Fang Heming, the special envoy of the Bureau of Extraordinary Affairs. It has been decided that this manhunt will be under the full command of Special Envoy Fang."

"What?!" Fang Yuan's voice exploded instantly, making the ears of those around him ring. "Old Zhang just died in the alley! We chased him half the night, and now you want us to hand over the case?!"

The surrounding security guards immediately swarmed around, their batons creaking in their grip.

"Why should we hand over the right to pursue and apprehend them?!"

"Old Zhang worked for thirty years, and he was just beaten to death like that? We weren't even allowed to chase after him?"

"Do they know which alley in the old town leads to which dead end? Do they know which building has an underground drain?"

Someone slammed a police baton into the ground; the sound of metal hitting stone was so loud it hurt people's eardrums.

Someone pointed at the group of people in black combat uniforms, their eyes bloodshot: "So you think you can capture people just because you're here? Did our brothers' blood get shed in vain?"

Fang Yuan stared at Ma Guoliang, his teeth clenched so tightly he seemed about to break each word: "Director Ma, Old Zhang has worked for you for over a decade. You know him best. His chest has been shattered. Now you want me to hand over the power of pursuit to some damn Special Affairs Bureau? I can't do it!"

Ma Guoliang's face darkened further. He stepped forward, standing between Fang Yuan and Fang Heming, his voice even more somber: "Old Fang, calm down. This man isn't an ordinary murderer. Have you ever seen anyone use a musical string to make someone bleed from all seven orifices from dozens of meters away?"

"Have you ever seen anyone get shot and still be able to jump into a river and run for miles? We can't get involved in the affairs of superhumans. Special Envoy Fang and his team specialize in handling these kinds of things. They have the equipment, the experience, and far more methods than we do."

He paused, his throat bobbing, his voice trembling slightly: "Old Zhang is gone. I don't want to see any more brothers ending up in the morgue. Do you understand?"

The crowd fell silent instantly.

Some people gripped the baton tightly and loosened their grip, their knuckles turning white.

Someone turned their face away and wiped the wetness from the corner of their eye.

Fang Yuan was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly looked up at Fang Heming, his eyes bloodshot as if they were about to burst out: "I agree to transfer the pursuit authority. But I must avenge Old Zhang. I must go with him, otherwise I will be letting down his wife and children."

Fang Heming hadn't uttered a single word since getting out of the car, but now he spoke, his voice as cold as ice: "I didn't say you couldn't participate. But you must follow my rules. If I say withdraw, you must withdraw. If I say stop, you must stop. Anyone who dares to act without authorization will bear the consequences."

Before anyone could speak, Ma Guoliang raised his hand to silence them, scanning the faces of everyone present: "It's settled then. Lao Fang, you'll take one person with you and follow Special Envoy Fang. They're familiar with this area and can be of help. Special Envoy Fang will take command, and you can report to me on the situation at any time."

He looked at Fang Heming, his tone softening slightly: "Special Envoy Fang, my people are familiar with the terrain, so it will be more efficient for me to lead them."

Fang Heming nodded.

Fang Yuan turned and roared, "Zhou Cheng'an!"

Zhou Chengan ran over from the alleyway next door, his trouser legs stained with mud and blood, and he was still clutching Lao Zhang's police badge in his hand. The metal edge was digging into his palm, and blood was dripping down between his fingers.

"Squad formation!"

"You come with me." Fang Yuan's voice was as deep as stone. "We'll bring that beast back with our own hands and make Old Zhang pay with his life."

Zhou Chengan gripped the police badge tighter, his knuckles turning white, and nodded fiercely.

Fang Heming turned around and walked to the SUV, reached out and opened the back door, took out a tablet computer, and opened the electronic map of the old city.

The cold light from the screen reflected on his face, making his eyes appear even colder.

His finger pointed to several shaded areas on the map: "The suspect came ashore from the sewage canal and was last seen at the entrance of Zhongshan Road. He had gunshot wounds, ruptured tendons, lost more than a third of his blood, and was mentally exhausted. Logically, he couldn't have gone very far."

Fang Yuan pointed to several areas circled in red on the map: "We've searched all of these areas, abandoned warehouses, unfinished buildings, and uninhabited houses. We've searched them all, but there's no trace of him. He's definitely within our two-kilometer encirclement. If we do another search, we'll definitely find him."

Fang Heming glanced at him, pointing to the blue marker on the map: "When you were searching, did you use walkie-talkies and megaphones, knocking on doors and shouting?"

"Yes." Fang Yuan frowned. "It was quite a commotion. What happened?"

"His ability is sonic manipulation." Fang Heming swiped his finger across the screen, zooming in on an old building area three kilometers away. "It's reasonable to assume that someone who can release lethal sonic waves has hearing at least twenty times better than the average person. He can hear the static from your walkie-talkies, the sound from your loudspeakers, and even the sound of your voices clearly from three kilometers away."

Fang Yuan was stunned: "You mean, he can hear our deployment?"

"He can not only hear, but he can also pinpoint your location." Fang Heming's finger landed heavily on the densely packed old building area. "When you set up a search net on the east side, he ran to the west. When you blocked the road to the north, he went to the south. You searched two kilometers, and he had already run three or four kilometers away."

He looked up at the old buildings hidden in the morning mist, his voice cold and devoid of warmth: "So we need to focus our search on this area. Check every building, leave no blind spots. If you find the target, don't make contact, report immediately. He's currently mentally exhausted; if he uses his ability again, he'll go completely deaf and won't last much longer."

Fang Yuan didn't argue anymore, and gripped the police baton in his hand tightly.