Ark Chess Player.

With her doubts in mind, Swire arrived at the fourteenth floor.

As soon as she stepped onto the fourteenth floor, she smelled a faint scent of blood.

Swire's mood fluctuated wildly. She felt exhausted, having been startled countless times today. Each time, she felt an impending catastrophe, only to have nothing happen, leaving her constantly on edge and nearly pushing herself to the brink.

She preferred to hope that her previous assumptions were correct, and that the intruder was seriously injured and jumped directly from the twelfth floor.

Swire sighed deeply; she had a bad feeling.

The tranquility of the thirteenth floor brought a moment of relaxation to everyone present, but crises often arise after a period of complacency.

She was certain that this floor was the same as the thirteenth floor.

As expected, when the officers finished searching the thirteenth floor, they still found no suspicious targets.

"Prepare yourself mentally..."

Swire told himself this.

At this point, there are no other options.

There is only one way forward, forward. The only way back is a dead end.

When Swire arrived on the fifteenth floor, as expected, the stench of blood became even stronger, as if it were right next to her. She looked down, her pupils slowly widening. On the staircase between the fifteenth and sixteenth floors, a large amount of blood had been spilled, and a viscous, scarlet liquid slid down the steps.

...These bloodstains haven't completely dried yet; they still look quite fresh.

What does this mean?

This means that the people here died within an hour!

The intruder might be on these two floors, either the fifteenth or the sixteenth!

Swire felt her heart pounding. She gripped the chain mace tightly, ready to face the enemy. Although her role was commander, she was no slouch when it came to physical fitness; she had climbed the stairs from the first floor to the fifteenth without breaking a sweat.

No matter how fast her heart was pounding, it was because she was scared.

"This is--"

Swire felt his heart was about to jump out of his throat.

After searching the fifteenth floor to no avail, when Swire arrived on the sixteenth floor, she discovered that the corridor leading to the Silverwing Building's CEO's office was filled with corpses.

If it were just corpses, she had seen enough today, and seeing more wouldn't frighten her.

...that's how it should be.

Swire stopped breathing.

She was staring straight ahead, momentarily forgetting where she was.

On the left side of the corridor, the upper bodies of the mercenaries were neatly arranged in the corner. Their hands were clasped together, as if in prayer. These mercenaries were covered in blood, all with their eyes closed, their faces devout, as if they were worshipping a god.

On the right side of the corridor, the mercenaries' lower bodies were dragged with streaks of blood, their intestines spilling out, their legs standing against the wall.

Almost every one of these mercenaries had the same cross-section in their wounds. What does that mean?

"Ah...ah..."

Swire felt a chill run down her spine, and she suddenly had an urge to turn around and run away.

Reason vanishes almost instantly; this incomprehensible eeriness is the true hell of terror.

What is this? What is this?! What is this?!

I don't understand, I completely don't understand. What kind of twisted sense of humor is this? Why would anyone do this? Why would anyone desecrate the dead?

"Ugh...ugh! Ugh, ugh!!"

Swire clenched her teeth, a sharp, acidic pain surging from her stomach. This time, she couldn't hold it in and, swaying, grabbed the stair railing and vomited. The foul-smelling vomit landed on the floor, the air thick with an even more complex odor, and her throat burned. As a lady, this was an incident she would remember for a lifetime, but she didn't want to recall it when she vomited in the future.

Not only Swire, but even Charlotte, the captain of the Hidden Dragon Squad, was terrified, her hands trembling.

Charlotte didn't just see the surface; she also saw another strange phenomenon.

As a Victorian, he had some knowledge of the occult and had published articles at the Victorian Royal Guard Academy.

In Charlotte's eyes, these mercenaries... these mercenaries who risked their lives for bounties, were probably the most fearless people of all professions. Fear of death is human nature, but mercenaries feared even more the prospect of living with nothing.

At this moment, the mercenary's body, severed at the waist, is like a pillar in the Lateran Cathedral, the Heavenly Gate of the Eastern Shrine, and a Sarkaz monument.

The mercenaries' tightly closed eyes, their faces devout like those of believers, offered their lives as a salute to an unknown god. Like statues, like the most faithful martyrs, they repented for their sins to an invisible deity.

Mercenaries are among the least afraid of death among humankind.

Now they are using their own corpses to line the road.

This is the most vicious denial of all positive and uplifting aspects of humanity.

This is the most irrational yet divine confession of humankind.

This is the most humble form of repentance for humanity.

This is, this is, this is...

This is a curse.

Everyone was stunned by the scene, but fortunately, they were all elites from the Guard Bureau and quickly regained their composure.

Swire wiped her lips with a handkerchief. To be honest, her legs were still weak, but the fear in her heart seemed to have eased considerably after vomiting. At least she could still look straight ahead and face the path of the ritual without flinching as she witnessed this scene again.

The initial impact of her presence almost made Swire flee in panic, but now she stands at the forefront of the crowd, guiding the way like a lighthouse.

"This is a show of force from the invaders; we absolutely cannot give up now!!"

Swire forced a show of force, but she was the only one who was so frightened she vomited, making her seem less imposing. Fortunately, her direct subordinates were quite cooperative, responding loudly and promptly to ease the awkwardness.

Swire nodded in satisfaction, even though she still couldn't stop trembling.

"What we're about to face might just be the devil himself."

Even so, we absolutely cannot back down.

"Longmen has its pride!"

Swire spoke each word clearly, her eyes regaining their color, as if she had regained her strength.

Longmen is her pillar; as long as she is there, Longmen will not fall.

As long as Longmen stands, she will never stop.

Swire took the first step, carefully avoiding the blood and intestines on the ground, and walked towards the end.

The only woman present wasn't afraid, so naturally the rest of the men wouldn't back down.

The hymn of mankind is the hymn of courage.

Swire gripped the chain hammer tightly with both hands, mentally preparing herself for an attack at any moment; she certainly didn't want to become one of these beacons.

Soon, she was less than ten steps from the office door, and the distance seemed to shrink with each step. Swire's heart pounded faster; though only a few seconds had passed, it felt like an hour.

Swire placed her left hand on the office door, and the expected resistance did not occur; she easily pushed the door open.

There were no overwhelming behemoths in front of her, nor were there short, burly killers.

Sunlight shone on Swire, a warm breeze carrying a humid feel blew by, and the air smelled sour.

When Swire first looked out the broken French windows, he could see helicopters and hear the sound of their rotating wings.

This is an excessively luxurious office. Compared to Swire's cramped office of less than 15 square meters in the Guard Bureau, almost half of the entire floor here is used to decorate this place.

This shows just how greedy the president of Silverwing Security Contractors really is.

Swire turned her head and looked around. There was furniture everywhere, wantonly destroyed, but not because someone had smashed it in anger. Rather, it was because it was in the way, like a mess of garbage on a table, which was simply swept off the table with a slap.

"You are... Edward Wenger?"

Swire raised the chain hammer and asked in confusion.

The man in red sat slumped on the ground, his shoulders slumped limply, his legs spread wide in an unseemly manner, and his head bowed deeply.

From behind, he looked quite forlorn, like a middle-aged man whose life was full of disappointments. Not only was he crushed by a life of heavy debt, but he also faced his wife's infidelity and his daughter's involvement in compensated dating, with his wife and daughter's partner being his illegitimate child from his youthful impetuosity.

Behind Swire, the four members of the Hidden Dragon Squad quickly occupied advantageous positions inside the room, setting up their weapons. Swire's direct subordinates stood outside the door, vigilant against potential enemy ambushes.

Charlotte stood beside Swire, holding a musket in both hands, the silver handles of which were engraved with mystical patterns.

This is a genuine Guardian Gun, a weapon of extraordinary significance that he inherited from a Lateran.

"Edward Wenger?"

To be honest, Swire breathed a sigh of relief the moment she saw Edward Wenger there.

Since she arrived at the Silverwing Building, she hasn't seen a single living person besides members of the Guard Bureau.

This intense sense of separation filled Swire with a deep-seated fear, which she endured without showing it because she was well aware of her position. She was a Senior Superintendent of Lungmen Police and the overall leader of this operation. If she collapsed first, what would happen to the people she led? It was this sense of responsibility and duty that sustained her through fear that most people could not withstand, allowing her to persevere to this point.

"You bastard, I'm asking you a question!"

Swire frowned; she didn't have a good impression of this man. According to the information provided by the Guard Bureau, Edward Wenger was ruthless in achieving his goals. He was excessively indulgent in pleasure, frequenting brothels almost daily, spending lavishly to win the favor of courtesans, and even forcing women into prostitution through his despicable acts.

Swire took a step forward and accidentally stepped on the bloodstains on the ground.

She intended to reach out and press Wenger's shoulder to force him to turn his head, but before she could even get close, Wenger's head fell off.

"——!?"

Swire's steps froze instantly as she watched Wenger's head roll several times on the ground.

Arsène Wenger, president of Silverwing Private Armed Security Contractors, is a man without a head, living up to his name.

Perhaps because she had witnessed a more shocking scene earlier, Swire was remarkably calm this time, or rather, excessively calm. She stood there motionless, staring at Wenger's corpse, her gaze never wavering.

"Chief Inspector Shi Huai-ya?"

Charlotte cautiously maintained his gun-holding posture; from his perspective, it looked as if Swire had kicked the man's head off. A moment's thought revealed the absurdity of the idea, but after such a hellish pilgrimage, few could maintain their sanity.

"The intruders have left."

Shi Huaiya said softly, quite lightly.

The conversation was light and casual, as if they were chatting about everyday things.

No one else realized what the sentence meant. It took them more than ten seconds for their hazy minds to process the information.

"What did you say?!"

Charlotte asked in surprise, "Superintendent Swire, how did you know?"

Swire gently shook her head. She didn't answer Charlotte's question immediately, but instead walked directly around Edward Wenger's body.

She turned to examine the deceased's injuries, and the next moment, her stomach felt a spasm as if it were being gripped by an invisible hand.

Edward Wenger's head was empty, without eyes, nose, ears, or mouth; it was just skin covering bones. All his flesh and blood had vanished, leaving only skin and bones.

Swire then realized that even his clothes weren't originally red.

really……

My guess was correct.

"Search the scene immediately, and try not to destroy any traces," Swire ordered. She put away her chain hammer, took out white gloves from her bag and put them on. "Notify the Guard Bureau's technicians to come and conduct a thorough search. Find even the smallest hair."

"Yes, Missy!"

Swire's direct staff quickly carried out the task.

“Superintendent Swire, you still haven’t explained why the intruders left,” Charlotte pressed.

Swire glanced at him, pointed to Edward Wenger on the ground, and replied, "His target was him; this was a retaliatory attack. After the intruder accomplished what he wanted, he left this message to remind us that there are other clues in this room."

"Then..." Charlotte asked, voicing her doubts, "how did the intruders escape from here?"

"I'm sure there's an escape route in this office."

Swire's gaze lingered on Wenger's corpse. She narrowed her eyes slightly and said coldly, "A cunning rabbit has three burrows. How could someone like him, who is used to a life of luxury and wealth, not plan his own escape route?"

"Report! Missy, we've found a secret room and an elevator here." At that moment, a police officer arrived and reported.

Swire turned and glanced at Charlotte, the meaning in his eyes was self-evident.

"Take me there."

"Yes!"

Thank you so much, Thornfire, for the treasure chest!!