Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

At the same time, the presence of the three people should be minimized so that everyone who sees them will automatically ignore these three fast-moving figures.

The mental energy consumption was astonishing.

His temples began to throb, and a metallic smell filled his nostrils, but he gritted his teeth and didn't stop.

"They're running towards the fire escape!"

The energy monitoring device in Zhou Zhengqing's hand was beeping frantically.

This instrument is the latest product of the General Administration's Biological Laboratory. It looks like a thicker version of a tablet computer and can monitor all abnormal energy fluctuations within a radius of 500 meters in real time.

At this moment, three energy signals on the screen are moving rapidly, sliding down from the sixth floor of the Emperor Club to the first floor, as fast as three shooting stars.

Judging from their movement trajectory, they avoided all the main staircases and elevator shafts, and took the narrowest backup fire escape route.

The passage leads directly to the back alley, outside of which lies the third line of defense set up by Zhou Zhengqing.

Zhou Zhengqing clenched his teeth so hard they made a grinding sound.

He was now 100% certain that the person who came was Lin Shen.

Only Lin Shen's illusion-weaving ability could interfere with so many people at the same time; only Lin Shen could silently infiltrate the Emperor's Club amidst a hail of bullets without being discovered by anyone.

The file says he lacks the ability to fight in direct combat—that's bullshit.

The ability to accurately locate targets amidst chaos, create massive illusions, and slip away from encirclement with two people demonstrates tactical acumen and on-the-spot judgment that is far more dangerous than a direct confrontation.

"Stop them, people in the back alley! Their target is heading towards the fire escape!" Li Cheng roared into the walkie-talkie, his voice cracking from the force of his shout.

His walkie-talkie finally regained communication three minutes ago—Lin Shen's mental energy was too depleted, and he could no longer maintain both illusion interference and electromagnetic suppression at the same time.

Although the communication quality is still very poor, with so much static it's like making a phone call in a storm, at least we can hear each other's voices.

No sooner had he finished speaking than several gunshots rang out from the back alley.

That was a three-round burst from a standard submachine gun, each shot crisp and clean, clearly fired by a well-trained soldier.

This was followed by the dull thud of an armored vehicle being smashed, and the panicked screams of the soldiers.

"We can't stop them! They have water and ice abilities! The armored vehicle doors are frozen shut! The firing pin of the vehicle-mounted machine gun is jammed by the water flow!"

The voice coming from the walkie-talkie was filled with obvious fear.

The person giving the report was a young soldier whose voice trembled so much that he could barely speak. In the background, you could hear the thuds of ice picks hitting the armored vehicle and the muffled thuds of water whips overturning trash cans.

Zhou Zhengqing was so angry that he gritted his teeth.

He hadn't expected Lin Shen to be so cunning—using the chaos of infighting on the periphery to draw the guards' attention to the main gate, creating the illusion that "the Awakened Ones are still putting up a stubborn resistance on the sixth floor," when in reality he had already led his men to slip away through the fire escape.

The guards in the back alley were caught off guard, disoriented by the ice spikes and water whips, and confused by the illusions in the forest, unable to distinguish friend from foe.

The once impenetrable encirclement was torn open with a large gap.

"Where are Li Zhengmin's men? Let them go and block them!" Zhou Zhengqing grabbed a passing soldier and shouted.

The soldier was so frightened that his face turned pale. He saluted and turned to run into the depths of the alley, shouting as he ran, "Deputy Director Li, Detective Zhou is calling for you."

But without him having to call out, Li Zhengmin was no longer in command position.

Three minutes earlier, when communications had just been restored, Li Zhengmin had quietly left the outer command post with a dozen or so trusted confidants and headed straight for the back alley.

He moved quickly, his steps were steady, and his expression was so gloomy it could drip water; he didn't look like someone who would desert in the face of battle at all.

Zhou Zhengqing was right—Li Zhengmin wasn't there to ambush people; he was there to silence them.

At the exit of the back alley, Li Zhengmin leaned against the hood of a black sedan, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

This is a private car with civilian license plates, neither a police car nor a military vehicle. It is parked in the shadows at the entrance of the alley, and you can hardly notice it unless you look closely.

He deliberately chose such an inconspicuous car in order to avoid Zhou Zhengqing's eyes and ears.

The red dot of the cigarette butt flickered in the darkness, revealing the old scar on his face that ran from his cheekbone to his chin.

That scar was inflicted twenty years ago when I was a security guard at the grassroots level. A drug dealer slashed me with broken glass, and I needed thirteen stitches.

From then on, he understood one thing—in Zhaoming City, if you want to live well, you have to be ruthless.

Sixteen fully armed confidants stood beside him.

These people were not part of the police force's official personnel, but rather his private armed force, which he had cultivated over the years.

Some were retired special forces soldiers, some were outlaws, and each of them had more than one life on their hands.

They were wearing black combat uniforms from the Zhaoming City Public Security Bureau, but no numbers or badges on their arms, and their hat brims were pulled low, obscuring most of their faces.

All sixteen submachine guns were loaded, their dark muzzles pointed at the iron gate of the fire escape.

Li Zhengmin pulled a pistol from its holster. It was an old-fashioned steel pistol, well-maintained, with the blued steel surface gleaming coldly under the streetlights.

He operated in Zhaoming City for twenty years, climbing from a grassroots security guard to the position of deputy director of the Public Security Bureau, relying on two things: ruthlessness and leaving no survivors.

Zhang Bingkun was his sworn brother, and he owned 40% of the shares in the Emperor Entertainment Club. Over the years, Zhang Bingkun had handled countless shady matters for him, all of which were clearly recorded in the ledger.

Now Zhang Bingkun is dead, killed by two greenhorns.

If those two brats are brought back to headquarters alive by Zhou Zhengqing and reveal everything they know during interrogation—who is backing Zhang Bingkun's Emperor Club, how many girls they've trafficked over the years have been sent to Li Zhengmin's private villa—his position as deputy director will be over.

They might not even be able to keep their heads.

Therefore, these two brats must die.

And that Lin Shen, if he dares to ruin his plans, he'll die too.

The iron gate to the fire escape creaked open.

Lin Shen was the first to rush out, followed closely by Su Wanxing, each with half an ice cone in their palm, the cold air shimmering like white mist under the moonlight.

Su Mingyu brought up the rear, the water flowing from his fingertips shimmering with a pale blue light under the moonlight, ready to be drawn at any moment.

The siblings were covered in blood and dust.

Su Wanxing's jacket had its sleeve torn by a bullet during the gunfight, leaving a shallow bloodstain on her exposed arm.

Su Mingyu's trousers were torn to shreds by ice shards, and a few dried bloodstains were splattered on his face.

As soon as the three stepped out of the iron gate, they saw sixteen gun barrels lined up opposite them.

"Su Wanxing, Su Mingyu, and Lin Shen, right?" Li Zhengmin spat his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped on it.

The cigarette butt hissed softly on the concrete floor and went out quickly.

He spoke in a relaxed tone, even with a hint of casual ease, "You killed Zhang Bingkun, and you think you can escape?"