Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

30,000 people.

The encirclement tightened to just three kilometers.

The searchlights illuminated the ruins in every detail. Song Chao stood atop the highest point of the rubble, his work clothes soaked in blood, fluttering in the night wind.

The crimson Asura phantom behind him had mostly receded, leaving only a thin layer of blood mist slowly swirling around his body, gleaming with a cold, dark red light under the searchlight.

In the four directions of east, west, south, and north, the high wall composed of blast shields has advanced to a position 100 meters outside the ruins.

Behind the shield were countless gun barrels, each with its safety off.

Four armed helicopters hovered two hundred meters above the ground, the roar of their rotors making the rubble on the ruins tremble slightly. The beams of their onboard searchlights crossed and locked onto Song Chao, so that no matter which direction he moved, he could not escape the white halo.

The sniper's infrared aiming dots were densely packed on his body, with at least five dots simultaneously locking onto his forehead, throat, heart, and knees—every vital spot.

"Song Dynasty".

A voice came from deep within the encirclement, amplified by a loudspeaker and echoing through the night sky.

The sound came from a modified command armored vehicle three kilometers away.

The armor on top of the armored vehicle flipped open, revealing a makeshift command platform on which three people stood.

At the very front was Song Mingcheng, the core commander of this encirclement and suppression operation and the deputy director of the Operations Department of the Abnormal Affairs Response Center.

He was dressed in a crisp black combat uniform with three silver stars on his epaulets. He held a walkie-talkie in his hand, his gaze passing over layers of shields and gun barrels, coldly fixed on the blood-covered man at the highest point of the ruins.

"I am Song Mingcheng, Deputy Director of the Operations Department of the National Center for Response to Abnormal Affairs."

His voice was amplified through the loudspeaker, spreading throughout the encirclement, and every member of the Blade team heard his words simultaneously in their headphones.

"Song Dynasty, listen up. In less than seventy-two hours since you awakened, you have killed 173 people, including state officials, judicial personnel, and active-duty military personnel. Your crimes constitute a major terrorist attack, and you can be executed on the spot according to the law."

"But the Political Council, acting on humanitarian principles, is giving you one last chance."

"Lay down your weapons, surrender your abilities, and give up immediately. This is your only choice, and your only chance to live."

"If you refuse to surrender, in three minutes, a network of 30,000 soldiers will open fire simultaneously. I assure you, you will be torn to shreds, and not even a single intact ashes will be found."

There was a three-second silence from the loudspeaker.

Then Song Mingcheng's voice rang out again, his tone now carrying a hint of condescension and charity.

"During the Song Dynasty, your teacher filmed a video urging you to surrender, and your cousin also filmed one. They are all waiting for you to return. Even if you don't think about yourself, think about those who still care about you."

"Surrender. This is the final ultimatum."

His voice echoed in the night sky for a long time.

Thirty thousand people are waiting for the Song Dynasty's answer.

Inside the command armored vehicle, Song Mingcheng's staff officers were also staring at the figure at the highest point of the ruins.

Some people clenched their fists.

Someone swallowed hard.

Someone quietly wiped the sweat from their palms.

Then they heard the Song Dynasty's reply.

At the highest point of the ruins, Song Chao slightly turned his head, his gaze passing over layers of shields and gun barrels, landing on the command armored vehicle three hundred meters away.

A slow smile curved his lips.

It is contempt.

Utter contempt.

"Let's talk about it when you're able to do it."

Song Mingcheng's face instantly darkened.

He gripped the walkie-talkie tightly, his knuckles making a cracking sound.

He anticipated that the Song Dynasty might refuse.

A person who has killed nearly two hundred people, a person who has not left himself a way out since the moment he awakened, is unlikely to surrender obediently because of a few threats.

But he did not expect the Song Dynasty to refuse in this way.

This contempt stung Song Mingcheng's pride more than any curse.

He represents the nation.

Behind him stood 30,000 fully armed elite soldiers.

Above him were four armed helicopters, and around him were forty-five snipers, each holding the latest suppression weapons developed specifically for superhumans.

He brought the sharpest claws of the entire state apparatus to besiege someone, but the other party didn't even glance at him.

"If you refuse a toast, you'll have to drink a penalty cup."

Song Mingcheng squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, then pressed the transmit button on the walkie-talkie, and his voice boomed through the loudspeaker.

"Attention all personnel! The target refuses to surrender! Proceed with the plan, attack!"

The moment the order was given, the innermost circle of the encirclement opened fire simultaneously.

Those were three thousand elite team members, all equipped with full polymer firearms and ceramic bullets, divided into three echelons, launching an attack simultaneously from the southeast and west.

The shield bearers in the first echelon crouched on the ground, forcefully inserting the lower edge of their riot shields into the gravel ground to form an impenetrable shield wall.

The second-line riflemen aimed from their shoulders, resting their rifles in the grooves on the upper edge of their shields, and pulled the triggers.

The grenade launchers of the third echelon knelt behind the shield bearers, pointing their gun barrels diagonally towards the sky, awaiting the order to fire in a parabolic trajectory.

No attack was launched from the north.

That was a "death passage" left for the Song Dynasty—a deliberately left-open direction to lure the Song Dynasty to break out in that direction, where six sniper teams and two armed helicopters were lying in ambush, waiting for them to walk into the trap.

"Fire!"

The first wave of bullets poured out from behind the shield wall.

It wasn't a series of shots fired in bursts.

It was a saturation coverage of three thousand rifles firing simultaneously.

Bullets rained down, leaving countless dark red trails in the night, like a meteor shower flying backwards, simultaneously striking the lone figure atop the highest point of the ruins from all directions.

The ceramic warhead spins at high speed in the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound.

The sounds of three thousand bullets firing simultaneously overlapped, creating a deafening roar, like a thousand drums beating in your ears at the same time.

The pebbles on the ground were blown away by the wind pressure generated by the bullets, tumbling through the air and crashing further away.

The dust on the ruins was churned into a chaotic vortex by the dense ballistics.

The three hundred elite soldiers who had been stunned by the Song Dynasty were still lying on the ground.

Their blood vessel walls were shattered by the bloodline power of the Song Dynasty, and they fell into a deep coma, lying haphazardly on the rubble ground around the ruins.

No one had time to move them away.

The order to attack was given too quickly, and the firepower came even more intensely.

As the first wave of bullets fell, at least twenty unconscious team members were hit by bullets from their own men.

Ceramic bullets can penetrate bulletproof vests, tear through muscles, and shatter bones.

Blood gushed from the wound, splattering onto the teammates' bodies, faces, and helmets.