Agent: Intercepting Yu Manli at the start!

The ear twitched slightly—it was so quiet inside that you could hear the dust rising and falling.

After confirming that no one was around, he silently pried open the window latch with a thin blade, ducked down, and slid into the 406 bathroom.

The guest room was eerily quiet.

It was eerily quiet, so quiet it was unsettling.

His back was pressed against the cool ceramic tiles, his chest rising and falling slowly, his right hand gripping the gun handle tightly, the click of the silencer tightening as soft as a sigh.

He squinted as he peered through the crack in the bathroom door—the living room was empty except for a celadon covered bowl on the coffee table, the tea already cold, with a few curled tea leaves floating on top.

What about people?

His gaze was sharp as a ruler, measuring every trace: the sofa cushions were slightly sunken, the slippers were pointing askew, the bedside table drawer was ajar...

They didn't leave. They're still in the bedroom.

The door was ajar.

He held his breath and approached, his fingertips touching the door panel, slowly pushing it open a narrow crack—

On the bed, Li Moqun lay fast asleep on his back, his chest rising and falling slightly with his breath, his face exactly the same as the intelligence photo.

Li Moqun, a cunning old fox who had been immersed in the espionage business for many years, was ruthless and cunning. Before the full-scale outbreak of the War of Resistance against Japan, he belonged to the Military Intelligence Bureau and secretly laid a network in Shanghai. After the Japanese army trampled the prosperity of Shanghai, he did not hesitate to betray his country and personally set up and took charge of the infamous "Special Agent Headquarters No. 76", becoming the founder of the traitorous spy system.

After defecting to the enemy, Li Moqun wielded his sword like a sickle, slaughtering a large number of anti-Japanese patriots and progressives; he also used his former identity as a Kuomintang agent as bait to lure the enemy into his home, and successively destroyed several secret Kuomintang strongholds in Shanghai - the Shanghai station was severely damaged and almost paralyzed.

Because his hands were stained with the blood of patriots, even foreign journalists were horrified and called him "the butcher who makes even infants hold their breath in silence when they hear his name"; the common people, in private, gritted their teeth and called him "Butcher Li".

Now, Zhou Xiao has removed this malignant tumor from the Military Intelligence Bureau.

His movements were as light as a cat stepping on a windowpane, but Li Moqun was naturally alert and had been through many storms. Even in his sleep, he was like a taut bowstring—his eyes suddenly snapped open, his pupils contracted sharply, and he immediately met the dark muzzle of a gun.

"Who are you?" His voice didn't tremble, his expression didn't change, but his mind was already racing, calculating a thousand ways and ten thousand methods to survive.

"Hades." Zhou Xiao gave him no chance to breathe and pulled the trigger.

puff!puff!puff!

The silenced pistol made a muffled thud like a ripe fruit falling to the ground. The bullet pierced the chest with precision, blood splattered, and the scarlet color quickly spread across the plain white quilt, soaking the entire carved bed.

The notorious villain in "Sparrow," the butcher Li whose hands were stained with blood and who harmed the loyal and good, now lay face up in a pool of blood, silent and still.

Li Moqun died.

He died quietly, in the still of the night in his hotel room.

Now that his true colors had been seen, Zhou Xiao naturally left no survivors.

As the gunshots subsided, he casually pulled the blanket over the body, then slipped out the door, slamming the door shut behind him. He ran his fingertips over the doorknob, the cracks in the door, and the edge of the carpet, erasing all traces.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing in the bathroom of room 406. He closed the door, opened the window, and leaped—his figure was like ink dripping into the night. The cold wind outside had just brushed past his ears when he had already closed the window with his backhand, his toes firmly against the narrow edge of the outer wall, his whole body pressed tightly against the cold brick wall, as still as a gecko.

The most difficult part of this plan was crossing the outer wall—climbing from the window of toilet 406 to the window of toilet 506. The wall was as smooth as a mirror, offering no foothold.

But Zhou Xiao was still determined to take the plunge.

The superhuman physical attributes bestowed upon him by the system had already pushed his endurance, explosiveness, coordination, and reflexes to levels unattainable by ordinary people. He trusted this body more than any plan.

He looked up at the window on the fifth floor where the light was flickering, slowly braced his feet against the window frame, and used his waist and abdomen to move upwards inch by inch.

With a meter to go before the windowsill, I suddenly tensed my legs, pushed off the wall for leverage, and soared into the air like an arrow! My right hand grabbed the window frame first, my knuckles turning white, and my left arm followed immediately. I rolled over and landed steadily back on the floor of toilet 506.

Such physical abilities are beyond what human beings can easily achieve.

For most people, even the first push would be difficult.

He quickly closed the window, and outside the door came the sounds of Lan Yanzhi and Feng Manna arguing fiercely.

The grudges and entanglements between women are always more difficult to unravel than espionage.

But this became the best cover.

Zhou Xiao steadied his breathing, put on his suit, wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, washed his face with water, and then pushed open the bathroom door.

Lan Yanzhi's eyes reddened as she looked directly at Feng Manna: "Manna, I know you're already serving the Japanese... I just hope you can turn back."

"My affairs are none of your business!" Feng Manna's voice suddenly rose. "It was the Military Intelligence Bureau that drove me to this dead end—they killed my parents, destroyed my home, and cut off my path to survival!"

"Manna, wake up!" Lan Yanzhi suddenly stood up. "Your parents were spying for the Japanese invaders and betraying their compatriots. The Military Intelligence Bureau was just doing its job..."

"Enough!" Feng Manna interrupted sharply. "Lan Yanzhi, you are not innocent of my parents' deaths! I will settle this debt sooner or later—and you even dared to bring him to see Third Brother today? What are you up to!" Before she finished speaking, her gaze swept like a blade towards Zhou Xiao, who had just stepped out of the restroom.

From infiltration and killing to withdrawal, the whole process took no more than five minutes—just enough time for someone to relieve themselves.

Five minutes to eliminate a monstrous villain. That's the power of "Pluto".

"Manna..." Lan Yanzhi's throat tightened slightly, but she still didn't give up, "Traitors never have a good end."

"Miss Lan," Zhou Xiao suddenly raised his hand, the muzzle of his gun steadily pointing at her forehead, "state your background—Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics? Military Bureau of Investigation and Statistics? Or a member of the underground Communist Party? Who is behind you?"

This shot was no bluff.

Firstly, it was necessary to convince the Shanghai Military Intelligence Bureau that he was indeed the elusive "Shadow," thus solidifying his identity and facilitating his infiltration.

Secondly, this swift and decisive blow will plant a seed of trust in Feng Manna's heart—only truly ruthless people deserve to be noticed by the Special Higher Police.

Of course, he also sincerely hoped that Lan Yanzhi would extricate herself as soon as possible.

Because in no time, news of Li Moqun's sudden death would spread like wildfire—the entire hotel would be in an uproar, and the whole of Shanghai would be shaken. This man held a high position and wielded great power; he was the true "founding father" of the 76th Division.

Facing the gun barrel, Lan Yanzhi showed no sign of panic.

"Go ahead and shoot if you dare!" Her eyes were blazing, a provocation and a test—a smart person is never afraid of death, only of dying without knowing why.

"Okay." Zhou Xiao flicked his thumb, the safety clicked open, and his index finger slowly pressed down on the trigger.

At that moment, Feng Manna called out in a low voice, "Third Brother, wait!"

He had expected her to speak up.

Everything was as expected.

He had to perform this scene flawlessly—because "Shadow" was supposed to be that kind of person.

Zhou Xiao smoothly holstered his pistol, his gaze sweeping over Lan Yanzhi like a knife: "Miss Lan, this is a private matter between Manna and me. Please be lenient and refrain from interfering again in the future—bullets don't have eyes."

Lan Yanzhi glared at him, then glanced at Feng Manna, wrinkled her nose, turned and left, her skirt billowing in the wind, slamming the door shut in a huff.

"Thank you, Third Brother!" Feng Manna's eyes welled up with tears, her voice soft but trembling. Zhou Xiao's protective attitude just now was like a flame licking her heart, burning her heart and making her like him soar. Even his angular face seemed incredibly pleasing to the eye.

This was exactly the effect Zhou Xiao wanted.

But Feng Manna wasn't naive; though she was affectionate, she was on edge. She pulled Zhou Xiao aside and they talked in circles in the room about radio codes, secret rendezvous, and codebook page numbers—every word was a probe.

Fortunately, Zhou Xiao had thoroughly studied "Shadow's" resume and answered flawlessly, even his pauses were just like the original owner's.

The moment he stepped into Shanghai, he was no longer Zhou Xiao—but Shadow, the Japanese spy "Shadow," a code name that lived in files and died in missions.

Half an hour later, the New Asia Hotel was in complete uproar...

To get back into the Special Higher Police, Zhou Xiao had already studied hard to the core. He could handle Feng Manna's tricky questions and her sudden revelations of old tropes with ease, answering accurately and laughing naturally, without the slightest flaw.

Adding to that previous block, Feng Manna's heart was already tipped in tautness—this composed and resilient third brother in front of her was none other than Shadow, without a doubt.

"Third Brother, let's go." She glanced at her watch; it was 9:20. "Let's not stay at the hotel tonight, let's go to my place."

"Okay." Zhou Xiao nodded decisively.

As the two stepped out of the hotel's revolving door, they suddenly heard a roar coming from afar—three-wheeled motorcycles sputtered, black sedans filed in, and most eye-catching were several Japanese military police trucks painted iron gray, their truck beds filled with armed military police, the bayonets gleaming coldly.

This display of force effectively froze the two people who were about to leave in place.

Zhou Xiao squinted and looked over, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips: Li Moqun's corpse had been lying there long enough before someone came to collect it.

"The military police?!" Feng Manna's breath hitched, and her face turned pale instantly.

The military police were no ordinary unit—nominally in charge of military discipline, they actually held the power of life and death. Each division was assigned a military police force of three hundred elite soldiers, whom even major generals would give way to; their salaries were doubled, and their authority was absolute, making them the true henchmen of the Japanese army. Later, they even absorbed the territories of the garrison, police, and secret service, becoming the darkest shadow over Shanghai.

The clouds today are so thick they feel oppressive.

Not only did the military police come out in full force, but also the personnel from the 76th Special Agent Headquarters and the Special Operations Headquarters arrived. The figures moved about, the walkie-talkies hissed, and even the air seemed to be on edge.

A short while later, a black sedan screeched to a halt in front of the hotel, and the door slammed open with a bang. A burly man with a thick beard jumped out. He was tall and had a buzz cut that was shaved until it was almost bluish. One button on his military uniform was undone, and his leather boots were polished so well that you could see your reflection in them.

It was none other than Takeshige Aoki, the head of the Special Higher Police's Shanghai branch.

The Special Higher Police (THT), the most insidious intelligence machine in the island nation, has been relentlessly targeting domestic dissidents since the late Meiji era. Later, it turned its attention to China, specializing in surveillance, espionage, subversion, arrests, and torture—all shady dealings. In every occupied territory, a THT was established within the consulate, ostensibly a "police station," but in reality, a den of iniquity. It also oversaw counter-espionage, wielding absolute power.