Agent: Intercepting Yu Manli at the start!

Aoki Takeshige stared intently at the shattered windshield ahead, finally pinpointing Yu Manli's hiding place. However, he only had a short-barreled pistol, its range insufficient, and the angle was blocked by a pillar, leaving him no chance to even raise his weapon.

"There's an ambush ahead!" he growled through gritted teeth, "but there's definitely more than one—this must be a meticulously planned encirclement!"

Before the words were even finished, the car doors on both sides suddenly slammed open! A barrage of gunfire erupted like hail hitting sheet metal, bullets clattering and gnawing at the door panels, sparks flying everywhere.

boom! boom! boom!

Although the car door was sturdier than the window and could barely stop the stray bullets, continuing the stalemate would only mean waiting to die.

Mingtai and Guo Qiyun, who were lying in ambush on both sides of the alley entrance, jumped out almost at the same time. Their submachine guns spat out flames, and bullets rained down on the vehicle. They casually threw two grenades under the vehicle—the pull rings had just left their hands when the fuses hissed.

Aoki Takeshige and Watanabe Ichiro felt their scalps tingle and slammed the car door open, lunging out!

boom--!!!

boom--!!!

The explosion overturned the entire car, and the blast wave, carrying shards of glass, swept across the street. The two people who had just landed were violently thrown over; their ears were ringing, and they saw stars before their eyes, unable to even crawl.

Mingtai and Guo Qiyun walked slowly through the smoke of gunpowder, their gun barrels firmly pressed against the struggling figure on the ground.

Aoki Takeshige's throat was making a hoarse sound as he struggled to prop himself up on one side. His vision was blurry, and he could only see that Mingtai's boot tip was no more than half a foot away from him—but his arm felt like it was filled with lead, and he didn't even have the strength to draw his gun.

Chu Chu Chu!

A series of short bursts of bullets precisely pierced his chest, and he fell backward, blood gushing from the corner of his mouth, and then he was motionless.

Watanabe Ichiro had already been knocked unconscious, lying motionless in a pool of blood. Guo Qiyun crouched down, didn't even look at him, raised his gun to Watanabe's temple, and swiftly pulled the trigger—

Chu Chu Chu!

The bullet pierced the flesh, blood burst forth, and quickly seeped into the ground.

Once they confirmed that the two had stopped breathing, they turned and left, their movements swift and clean, without pausing for even a second.

The entire ambush, from the first shot to the last body falling, took only one minute and fifty seconds.

Two minutes later, Mingtai, Yu Manli, and Guo Qiyun had disappeared into the depths of the alley, leaving only four still-warm bodies at the scene.

Takeshige Aoki, the first head of the Special Higher Police in Shanghai, also became the first Special Higher Police chief to fall in the street.

When the news reached Japan, Doihara was furious and slammed his fist on the table—this slap in the face caused the entire intelligence system to lose face completely.

By the time the patrol officers arrived at Chunxi Road, panting heavily, even the smell of gunpowder had almost dissipated.

This hunt was textbook-perfect in its precision, ruthlessness, and silence.

Aoki Takeshige couldn't understand it until his death: his whereabouts were so well concealed that no one in the Special Higher Police knew the purpose of his trip, let alone leak it to the Military Intelligence Bureau in advance—that secret meeting with Zhang Wanlin didn't even go through a single telegram, so how did someone manage to get such a close call?

Unbeknownst to him, every detail had already been chewed up, dissected, and reassembled into a vast and inescapable web by a single person.

Zhang Wanlin's fate was just another end of the same net. No one knew why Qingmu suddenly changed his route to Chunxi Road, no one knew who he was going to see, and no one knew where the ambush came from or how the trap was set up—all clues were completely cut off.

When the team withdrew to the Bright Photo Studio, their footsteps were so light that they could not be heard.

Yu Manli removed her gun from its holster, stretched her wrists, and smiled lazily: "I thought killing a Special Higher Police section chief would be a lot of work, but it turns out... there wasn't even enough time to make tea."

Mingtai shook his head: "Manli, do you really think it's just luck?"

"It was Hades who personally delivered Aoki Takeshige into our line of fire." He paused, "Making him remove his guards, change his car, and go to the appointment alone—every step was meticulously planned."

Guo Qiyun nodded in agreement: "That's real skill. Being able to figure out the enemy's thoughts and then lead them down a deadly path is ten times more ruthless than marksmanship."

"If we were to force our way in, even if we poured the entire team in, we probably wouldn't be able to get a single hair on his head."

Yu Manli raised an eyebrow and smiled: "Of course I understand. I just want to know—what does this 'King of the Underworld' actually look like?"

She turned to Guo Qiyun: "Old Guo, you've been in the intelligence business for so many years, have you ever heard of this code name?"

Guo Qiyun waved his hand: "That's nonsense. Just hearing the words 'Pluto' tells you it's a nail driven deep into the enemy's heart—the deeper it is, the less it can show itself."

"A person with this name must be breathing black mist."

Mingtai gazed at the darkening sky outside the window, his voice growing deeper: "That time with Bi Zhongliang, Su Sansheng took the blame; but with Aoki Takeshige's death, the Special Higher Police itself fell into chaos."

"Without a leader at the top, everyone below is busy fighting for power and profit. Who cares about investigating who fired the shot or who orchestrated the scheme?"

"When a person dies, the case is buried along with them."

People leave and things cool down; that's always been the case.

While alive, they may be surrounded by admirers and fawned over, but once they close their eyes, they won't even bother to sweep the dust off three times.

As for whether the newly appointed head of the Special Higher Police will take charge, that depends on how strong his hands are, how deep his foundation is, and how big his appetite is.

The new section chief had just taken over and was faced with a mountain of thorny tasks—the business had to be sorted out, all the people had to be identified, and there were gaps in the records left by the previous manager, secret accounts, old grudges, unsolved cases… Each and every one of these tasks was overwhelming, leaving him with no energy to delve into the old accounts of Aoki Takeshige, whose pages had been burned to charred.

Even if he really wanted to investigate, it would be like reaching into the fog—Aoki died cleanly and neatly, with no last words, no secret letters, no witnesses, no bullet casings pointing to him, and even the footprints left by the murderer were swept away by the spring wind without a trace.

Therefore, there's no need for anyone to take the blame for assassinating Aoki Takeshige.

Zhou Xiao had calculated every step perfectly and had it all planned out.

Zhou Enlai's Residence.

After dealing with Zhang Wanlin, Zhou Xiao and Lin Yiyi turned around and returned to the Zhou Mansion.

The two sat by the west window, with Biluochun tea floating in their celadon cups. The sunlight slanted across their shoulders, warming them to the bone.

This kind of relaxation has been long gone.

Even more unimaginable is that just an hour ago, they sent Zhang Wanlin, one of the three tycoons of Shanghai, to the underworld.

Lin Yiyi took a sip of tea and looked up at Zhou Xiao: "Brother Zhou, you've done what you promised me; but I haven't even set off on what I promised you—you said I should pick up Yongxin, but how am I supposed to do that?"

"Although Zhang Wanlin has fallen, Huo Tianhong still has a foothold at the docks, and Lu Yusheng still holds onto his money at the stock exchange. What can a nobody like me, with no guns or power, possibly use to fight them?"

"No rush." ​​Zhou Xiao leaned back in the wicker chair, his fingertips slowly twirling the rim of his cup, his tone calm as still water. "Huo Tianhong and Lu Yusheng, I'll clear the way for you. But if the tree is to be cut down, we have to wait until it has enough energy to sway."

"If you have nowhere to stay for the next few days, please stay here—a guest room at the Zhou residence has always been reserved for you."

He kept Lin Yiyi here because of her blank resume: she was neither an outsider to the Kuomintang intelligence agency nor had she any trace of the underground party; she was untraceable and untouchable.

Lin Yiyi nodded, her voice soft: "Thank you, Brother Zhou."

"Drink the tea while it's hot." Zhou Xiao took another sip, his lips slightly upturned, and his eyebrows relaxed.

With Aoki Takeshige gone, this gift was specially prepared for his sixth brother, Zheng Yaoxian.

Right now, it's the golden window for him to enter the Shanghai market—the winds have just begun to blow, the clouds haven't yet gathered, and all sorts of people are in a chaotic mess, with no one paying attention to the city gates.

Zhou Xiao was waiting.

Waiting for that call from Special Operations Headquarters.

With Aoki dead, the news will spread like wildfire: the Special Higher Police (STP) goes without saying, but the Special Operations Headquarters, 76th Division, the Shang Mansion… these normally divided intelligence agencies will all tremble in fear. Nominally belonging to different factions, they are all inextricably linked to the STP. Now that the backbone is broken, everyone below is naturally insecure—what will the new master's temperament be like? Is it too late to choose sides? Will old scores be settled later?

Chaos is the best place to hide people; panic is the best place to play chess.

At this critical juncture, Zheng Yaoxian's quiet arrival in Shanghai was like a night rain nourishing the city, leaving no trace.

Zhou Xiao initially wanted to send a confidential telegram inquiring about the itinerary, but ultimately restrained himself.

He was waiting—waiting for the other party to call first.

About half an hour later, the phone suddenly rang loudly!

Ring—ring—ring—

Sharp, short, and brooking no hesitation, like a taut steel string being suddenly plucked.

coming.

Zhou Xiao leisurely put down his teacup, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed the last sip of warm tea. Then he rose and strolled to the living room, picked up the receiver, and lazily dragged out his words, "Hey? Who is this?"

On the other end of the receiver, Feng Manna's voice came through the receiver like a tidal wave: "Third Brother! Come to Special Forces Headquarters immediately! Something terrible has happened!"

"Manna, I'm off today," Zhou Xiao said, his voice tinged with weariness. "What's the big deal? Is it urgent?"

"Aoki Takeshige—has been killed!"

"What?!" Zhou Xiao stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat, his voice suddenly rising, "When? Where? I'm coming right now!"

"Chunxi Road," Feng Manna said quickly, "Don't take the long way, just go straight there! See you there!"

"good!"

The call ended as soon as the words were spoken.

Zhou Xiao picked up his dark gray suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, smiled at Lin Yiyi, and said, "Yiyi, refill the tea. I'm going out for a bit."

She nodded, her fingertips still resting on the warm cup.

Even she, one of the people involved, was kept in the dark about this whole affair.

She was unaware that Zhang Wanlin was merely bait, and even less aware that Aoki Takeshige was already lying in a pool of blood on Chunxi Road.

Zhou Xiao drove straight to Chunxi Road.

The entire street was sealed off by military police like an iron barrel; not even a sparrow could fly in beyond the cordon. He showed his identification before he was able to pass through the layers of checkpoints.

Feng Manna was already there, and Lan Yanzhi stood to the side with a solemn expression.

Upon seeing Feng Manna, Zhou Xiao didn't stop walking; his brows furrowed deeply. "Manna, what exactly happened?"

His tone was shocked, his eyes were bewildered, and even the unconscious force with which his fingertips dug into his palms was like an instinctive reaction when he had just heard the bad news.

Accurate, realistic, and flawless.

After all, for someone who can read a lie from a frown, acting is as natural as breathing.

Meanwhile, the Oscars are still being awarded on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles as usual.

If Zhou Xiao hadn't chosen the path of a secret agent and instead stepped onto the silver screen, that golden statuette would probably have his name engraved on it long ago.

Feng Manna stepped forward, speaking calmly: "The victim was Aoki Takeshige himself, accompanied by his deputy Watanabe Ichiro and two Special Higher Police operatives."

"The evidence at the scene indicates that the car was attacked from three sides—sniper fire from the front and submachine gun fire from the left and right flanks."

"Nine times out of ten, the ability to mobilize such a force is the work of the Military Intelligence Bureau."

As they talked, the two crossed the cordon and walked toward the black sedan that was parked crookedly under the shade of a sycamore tree.

The car was riddled with holes, its body riddled with bullet holes, the hood twisted and rolled up, all the windows shattered, and even the tires were mangled—this was no car accident scene, but a meticulously planned massacre of death involving explosions and gunfire. The bodies of Aoki Takeshige and Watanabe Ichiro lay three meters away from the roadside, their clothes charred black, their limbs stiff, their chests, abdomens, and necks covered in dense bullet wounds from submachine guns, the blood already congealed into dark brown scabs.