A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

As night fell, the sea about eight nautical miles southwest of the "Autumn Words" island was pitch black, with even the moonlight being completely obscured by thick clouds.

A disguised research vessel, with all signal lights and engines turned off, is drifting with the waves.

Inside the decompression chamber at the bottom of the ship, the soft clanging of equipment filled the air. Six lean, well-built men in top-of-the-line deep-sea diving gear were conducting a final inspection. They were "water ghost" mercenaries, poached from Blackwater by a consortium of top global paparazzi organizations, including North America's The Sun and Britain's Gossip Weekly, for an exorbitant price.

Previously, Zhuo Yiwei's fishing boat and several batches of military-grade drones had been destroyed, forcing paparazzi around the world to recognize a fact: the "Don't Want to Go to Work" group's defenses on the sea and in the air were even more impenetrable than the Pentagon's.

So they turned their greedy gaze to the deep sea.

"Listen, the employer's raising the paycheck." Jack, the blond, burly leader, his deep voice coming through the waterproof communicator, his breath coming in through his mouthpiece. "Those cruisers and radars on the surface can't reach the blind spots ten meters underwater. The mission is simple: follow the current and use a low-light camera to snap photos of Lin Yan and Shen Qingqiu in the reef area. Just a blurry shot of their backs, and we can buy a yacht in Miami for the rest of our lives."

"Boss, relax." A burly man clicked a bullet into chamber, scoffed, and said, "Only an amateur would throw all their money at the water defense line. Dealing with a bunch of entertainment industry security guards who've never seen blood is like an armed picnic."

"Get in the water!" Jack waved his hand.

Thump, thump.

Six dark figures slid into the icy seawater like ghosts, silently swimming towards their target island.

However, they know nothing about the true "money power" of Asia's richest man.

At the same time, the monitoring and command center at the highest point of the island was brightly lit.

A burly foreign man, standing 1.95 meters tall with muscles stacked like granite blocks, was holding a cup of extremely strong black coffee, coldly staring at the sixteen high-resolution holographic sound screens in front of him.

His name is David, the former captain of the most secretive Navy SEAL Team Seven in North America. After retiring, he was blacklisted by a financial tycoon and had nowhere to turn. It was Lin Yan who casually threw down ten million US dollars, not only buying his life but also granting him the highest level of security clearance.

For David, Lin Yan was not only his boss, but also the God who gave him new life.

To ensure that not a single hair on God's wedding would be disturbed, David recruited thirty bloodthirsty, muscular men from Hollywood's security and underground mercenary circles with exorbitant salaries, transforming the island into an absolute forbidden zone that even satellites could not detect.

"Beep~ Beep~ Beep~"

Suddenly, a faint red light flickered at the edge of screen number three, and an alarm pierced the silence of the control room.

David put down his coffee cup, his large fingers flying across the keyboard. The sonar waves, filtered rapidly by the supercomputer, gradually revealed six blurry human silhouettes on the screen.

"Ten meters underwater, heading 045, distance 5.5 nautical miles. Carrying a closed-circuit breathing apparatus, not a large marine creature." David's lips curled into a cruel smile, the excitement of a hunter seeing his prey fall into the net.

He grabbed the tactical walkie-talkie, his voice low and rumbling: "Alpha Squad, rats spotted. Six, came by water. Time to eat."

"Roger that, Captain." Several barely suppressed, rough laughs came through the communication channel.

Fifteen minutes later.

Jack and five other "water ghosts" were diving at a steady pace close to the seabed reefs when they suddenly felt a strange turbulent eddy around them.

Before they could even give a warning signal, the dark seawater above them was violently torn apart by several blinding beams of light!

The beams of light from the high-powered underwater searchlights intertwined to form a net, illuminating them so thoroughly that they had nowhere to hide.

Immediately afterwards, five miniature deep-sea thrusters, entirely black and shaped like manta rays, surrounded them from all sides. Behind the thrusters followed ten heavily armored underwater divers, each as large as a brown bear.

David led the team himself. He didn't even bring a harpoon; he only wore tactical gloves with tungsten steel barbs on his hands.

Jack's pupils constricted sharply, and he instinctively reached for the underwater tranquilizer gun on his thigh. But he didn't have time to draw it—David's powerful muscles completely ignored the water resistance of the deep sea, crashing through the current like a heavy torpedo, instantly filling Jack's vision.

A huge, iron-like hand gripped Jack's neck tightly. The immense force of the grip made Jack's eyes bulge, and even the hard breathing mask was squeezed so hard it made a teeth-grinding crunch.

"With this level of skill, you think you're qualified to secretly photograph the richest man?"

David used a throat vibrator to emit a dull, mocking sound, which directly hacked into Jack and the others' earpieces and exploded.

Meanwhile, the other five mercenaries, who had just boasted of being top-notch, were thrown into disarray by the high-pressure water jets from the thrusters used by the security team. They were then swiftly dislocated and pinned to the seabed rocks like dead fish.

"Take it upstairs and return it to its original supplier." David released his grip and coldly ordered.

On the sea, the captain of the research vessel was anxiously staring at the radar screen.

Suddenly, a beast-like roar of an engine erupted from the outer side of the ship. A heavy, heavily armed speedboat, its sleek black finish and futuristic design, forcefully sliced ​​through the waves and barged into the research vessel.

The captain had just grabbed his gun and rushed out of the cabin when his legs went weak.

Several burly men, as tall as iron towers, stood on the deck of the speedboat, carrying six wet, limp figures in their hands as if they were chicks.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

David, like pulling a radish, used one arm to swing Jack and six other strong men, each weighing over 200 pounds, directly over the ship's side and slammed them hard onto the deck of the research vessel.

Jack painfully ripped off his torn breathing mask, lay on the deck, and violently retched, spraying bile mixed with seawater all over the floor.

David stood beside the machine gun mount on the speedboat, looking down at the captain who was half-dead with fear. He spoke slowly and deliberately in fluent but cold Chinese, "Go back and tell your masters that this is Mr. Lin's private wedding, not a Cannes red carpet event."

"If you dare send flies over again, next time we'll only throw back empty oxygen cylinders."

With that, the speedboat's engine roared, and with an extremely arrogant dragon-like tail swing, it stirred up white waves several meters high before instantly disappearing into the thick darkness of the night.

On the deck of the research vessel, only the sound of the sea breeze and Jack's heavy breathing could be heard. The captain looked at the so-called "top-tier sea monster" still convulsing unconsciously on the ground, shuddered, and slapped himself hard across the face.

Why provoke these lunatics!

Who the hell calls this entertainment industry security? These guys are scarier than the Terminator from American blockbusters!