[02:15 AM, 13th Street Core Sector]

  The night was like a sponge soaked in ink, pressing heavily down upon the ruins. The entire sector was terrifyingly silent; even the stray cats that usually scavenged through the trash had gone into hiding.

  Only the wind, whistling through the half-collapsed buildings, sounded like the gasping of the dying.

  Just a few hours ago, John Doe had stood on a makeshift podium made of wooden crates, facing a crowd of neighbors with shifting eyes and palpable hostility. He had said:

  "Do you really think that if you hand me over, the Guild will let you go? No. The only reason they haven't attacked yet is because I am still standing here. If I fall, you won't be 'residents to be appeased' anymore. You will be 'garbage to be cleared'."

  At the time, there were only a few disdainful snorts from the crowd. No one truly believed him.

  But now, the Reaper was at the door.

  [Tactical View: Guild Special Action Group "Night Owl" Squad]

  This was an elite force, completely different from the cannon fodder seen before.

  In the Necromancy Guild's armed hierarchy, there was a strict pyramid:

  At the bottom were the [Security Forces], thugs who bullied street vendors for pocket money. Poorly equipped, zero combat capability.

  Above them were the [Regular Army (Scavengers)]. Clad in black exoskeletons, equipped with heavy firepower. They were the Guild's hammer, used to smash organized resistance.

  Higher still were the [Rapid Response Forces (QRF)], like the unit Zhao Yun had dismantled. They had Mechs, aircraft, and high-level mage support. They were the Guild's spear.

  But standing at the very top was the unit currently infiltrating this broken building—[Special Forces].

  They had no names, only codenames. They didn't need massive firepower coverage; they only needed a knife, or a single bullet. They were the Guild's scalpel, designed to excise the most stubborn tumors.

  Team Leader "Black Mamba" made a hand signal—perfectly executed tactical silence.

  His black nano-combat suit fit like a second skin, absorbing all light and locking his body heat inside to bypass infrared detection.

  "Node B-7 breached. Route secure."

  The voice of the scout came through the earpiece, clear as if spoken directly into the brain. It was an encrypted channel using bone conduction technology, hard for even Grace's net to catch.

  "Copy. Alpha Team enter, Bravo Team cover. Objective: Core Clinic, Second Floor. Mission: Decapitation."

  Black Mamba didn't waste words. His finger rested lightly on the trigger of a specially silenced tactical SMG, which felt like an extension of his arm.

  Behind him, five operatives filed in.

  Their movements were synchronized, every step landing beside the previous one's footprint to minimize sound and trace. They were emotionless killing machines, gliding silently through this labyrinthine slum.

  "Watch your step."

  Vice-Captain "Viper" warned over the channel. "Intel suggests this area was modified by a defensive master named Mozi. Possible pressure-sensitive mines."

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  "Relax." Black Mamba sneered beneath his mask. He glanced at the small, blinking device in his hand. "That grocery store old man didn't just turn off the alarm; he gave us this—a Jammer. As long as it's on, all those primitive traps are mute."

  The team moved quickly through the main street, usually the liveliest part of town.

  Windows on both sides were shut tight, emitting heavy breathing and occasional muttering from dreams. The residents were asleep, unaware that death was passing right by their doors.

  "Target 1 confirmed."

  The team stopped in front of a two-story container structure.

  John's Clinic.

  Although reinforced by Lu Ban, to professional demolition experts, this was still just a fragile tin box.

  "Breaching Team, up."

  Black Mamba waved his hand.

  Two operatives moved forward, pulling palm-sized slabs of black putty from their tactical vests—[Directional High-Explosive C4]. With practiced ease, they stuck the explosives to the door hinges and window frame stress points, inserting micro-detonators.

  "Three-point breach. Countdown: 5 seconds."

  The entire process was silent. Even Bone, who was guarding the door (but currently hibernating in a box because of exhaustion and the belief that the traps were active), didn't sense a thing.

  "3... 2... 1."

  Black Mamba pressed the detonator.

  There was no earth-shattering boom. The specially made C4 released an explosion frequency tuned to infrasound, inaudible to the human ear.

  Pfft.

  It sounded like a muffled release of gas.

  The reinforced security door seemed to be pushed by an invisible hand. It fell inward but didn't hit the ground; another operative caught it steadily and set it aside gently.

  Silent entry.

  "Go!"

  Black Mamba was the first inside.

  The first floor was the main hall, empty except for a few tables and the shrine.

  "Thermal scan."

  The operatives activated their tactical visors.

  In their vision, the first floor was a cold blue wash. No signs of life.

  But on the second floor, two bright red spots were pulsing.

  "Life signs confirmed. Two. One large, one small. Breathing steady, heart rate normal. Deep sleep state."

  That was John and Margaret.

  "And one... high-energy spirit response. In the box in the corner."

  Black Mamba glanced at the box where Bone was curled up, making a rattling snoring sound (a psychological habit, likely).

  "Ignore the pile of bones. Kill the humans first."

  Black Mamba made a throat-slitting gesture.

  Two operatives raised their guns, loaded with alchemy bullets designed to penetrate mage shields.

  They moved up the stairs like cats.

  The stairs didn't creak (Old Wang had sold out the locations of the noisy steps, too).

  The second-floor corridor was short, less than five meters. At the end was a door, slightly ajar.

  Through the crack, the faint glow of a breathing light was visible, along with the rhythmic sound of sleepers.

  It was too perfect.

  Perfect like a textbook infiltration case study.

  But the moment Black Mamba was about to step through that door, he froze.

  As a top-tier assassin who had survived countless brushes with death, his intuition was sharper than radar.

  "Wait."

  He stopped his team with a low command.

  "Captain?"

  "Something's wrong."

  Black Mamba's eyes locked onto the red thermal spots inside.

  "Why are they all in one room?"

  The building wasn't huge, but it had three separate rooms. Logically, the sick old woman should be in the medical bay with life support, the ghost girl Grace should be near the server room, and John should be in his own room.

  But right now, every heat source, every breath, even the ghost's data fluctuations, were concentrated in this single room.

  It was like... someone had intentionally put all their eggs in one basket.

  Waiting for them to come and take it.

  "And..." Black Mamba sniffed the air.

  The smell was wrong.

  No medicinal scent of a long-term patient, no sweat of a young man.

  Only a faint... smell of burnt paper ash, and an indescribable scent of ancient sandalwood.

  That was... the smell of a trap.

  "Retreat! It's a setup!"

  Black Mamba roared, his body instinctively leaping backward.

  But it was too late.

  CLANG!

  The door behind them slammed shut and locked automatically.

  Simultaneously, countless red laser lines lit up around the room's perimeter.

  Not infrared sensors.

  That was the signal for Mozi's [Chain Killing Array] activation.

  On the bed, the blankets covering the "normal body temperature" and "breathing sounds" were thrown back.

  There was no one inside.

  Only a dummy made of hot water bottles and a tape recorder. On the dummy's head was a talisman with a crudely drawn smiley face.

  Under the talisman was a note, the handwriting wild and domineering:

  [This is the first lesson Cao Cao taught me: Never sleep where the enemy expects you to.]

  "Welcome."

  A low, mocking voice, filled with the aura of a ruthless warlord, echoed through the sealed room.

  "Since you're here, don't be in a rush to leave."

  "I... have been waiting for a long time."

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