"Ghost" moved.

He didn't retreat, he didn't dodge; he charged forward.

His body, like a fully drawn bow, snapped outward.

He was so fast that he left only a blur where he had stood.

The opponents clearly hadn't expected us to take the initiative.

They instinctively raised their guns.

But it was already too late.

"Ghost’s" shadow had cut into their formation.

He was like a dancer in the dark.

Every dodge, every strike.

Precision incarnate, lethal.

I only heard a few muffled sounds of bone shattering.

And a few stifled groans.

Two of the enemy operatives hadn't even had time to fire a single shot.

They had been disarmed by "Ghost," their wrists snapped.

They fell to the ground.

The battle turned white-hot in an instant.

The remaining three immediately reacted.

They abandoned their guns and drew their tactical knives.

Surrounding "Ghost" in a triangle formation.

"Polygraph" and "Know-It-All" moved as well.

They engaged the enemies on their left and right.

"Polygraph’s" movements weren't fast, they were even a bit clumsy.

But he always managed to dodge the enemy's attacks at the most critical moments.

Then, he would counterattack in the simplest, most effective way possible.

I saw him dodge a knife strike sideways.

Because the opponent had used too much force, a brief opening appeared.

"Polygraph’s" elbow caught the opponent right in the ribs.

That person instantly curled up in agony.

Every one of his attacks looked as if he had anticipated his opponent's moves well in advance.

"Know-It-All’s" fighting style, however, was "dirtier."

He didn't fight head-on.

Instead, he utilized his surroundings while he fought.

He kicked a broken iron barrel on the ground, sending it hurtling toward his opponent.

Taking advantage of the moment the opponent was distracted by blocking it, he grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into the enemy's face.

All the while, his mouth didn't stop muttering.

"Watch out for the steel rebar at your three o'clock; it’ll trip you."

"That knife of yours is an M9 bayonet—the center of gravity is too far back; it’s not suitable for a reverse grip."

He was like a nagging coach, instructing his opponent on how to defeat himself.

Yet, every single one of his words hit the mark.

Causing the opponent to become flustered and riddled with openings.

"Chessboard" didn't move.

She stood beside me, calmly observing the entire battlefield.

In her ear, she wore an even more concealed earpiece.

She was receiving information relayed from Bureau Nine's rear support.

"Three o'clock, atop the blast furnace, there is a sniper."

Her voice reached everyone’s earpiece clearly.

Almost simultaneously.

After "Ghost" took down his second opponent, his body rolled fiercely along the ground.

A bullet grazed the top of his head, striking the steel plate behind him.

Sparks flew in a cascade.

A sniper!

The enemy still had an ace up their sleeve!

The leader I had identified didn't join the siege.

He had been standing in place from the very beginning, coldly watching me.

Or rather, watching the case in my hands.

Now, he moved.

He began walking toward me, step by step.

"Chessboard" stepped in front of me.

"Your opponent is me."

From her waist, she drew a short baton that looked like a conductor's wand.

With a flick, it extended into a three-section staff.

The leader sneered and drew a Nepalese kukri from his coat.

The blade shimmered with a bloodthirsty cold light in the moonlight.

The two clashed instantly.

"Chessboard’s" staff technique was nimble and elegant.

The leader’s knife technique was wide and powerful.

For a moment, they were evenly matched.

I stood in the center of the fray, clutching the case.

I couldn't help.

My combat skills were the worst among them.

I couldn't be a liability.

I had to do something.

My gaze swept across the entire battlefield.

"Ghost" was utilizing the complex steel structures to dodge the sniping while looking for a chance to counter.

"Polygraph" and "Know-It-All" were nearing the end of their fights.

The tactical situation was in our favor.

But that sniper was the greatest threat.

I had to find him.

I set the briefcase down on the ground.

Then, I reached out and pressed my hand onto a massive, rusty pipe nearby.

This pipe ran through the entire factory complex.

Like the artery of the steel mill.

My consciousness spread out along the freezing rust.

The layout of the entire factory complex instantly formed a three-dimensional map in my mind.

I saw where "Ghost" was.

I saw "Chessboard" locked in combat with the leader.

Then, my consciousness climbed upward along the pipe.

I "saw" the top of the blast furnace.

A dark shadow lay flat against the railing.

His sniper rifle was aimed at the battlefield below.

He was searching for "Ghost."

Found him!

I marked his exact coordinates in my mind.

Then, with all my might, I transmitted those coordinates to "Ghost."

Not through language.

But through consciousness.

"Ghost," who was moving at high speed, froze for a split second.

He seemed to have "heard" my call.

He stopped behind cover.

He didn't look up.

Instead, he pulled a compact pistol from his coat.

He didn't even look.

Aiming in the direction I had conveyed to him.

He fired three shots.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Three gunshots.

On top of the blast furnace, that dark shadow shuddered violently.

Then, like a discarded sack, he fell from the heights.

Slamming heavily onto the ground.

The greatest threat had been neutralized.

Almost at the same time.

"Polygraph" and "Know-It-All" also finished their fights.

Only "Chessboard" and the leader remained.

The leader clearly realized the situation had turned sour.

He feinted with his knife, pushed "Chessboard" back, and turned to run.

But it was too late.

The four of us closed in from four directions.

He was a beast in a cage.

He looked at us, a flash of despair in his eyes.

Then, he placed his kukri horizontally against his own neck.

He intended to take his own life.

"Don't move."

I spoke up.

"I know you aren't laying down your life for 'Gardener'."

"You’re doing it for your sister."

"She needs a kidney transplant, right? At the Royal Hospital in London."

The leader’s body froze mid-motion.

The hand holding the knife began to tremble.

He looked at me as if he had seen a ghost.

This information had been captured in fragmented flashes as I touched the pipe, following the sniper's consciousness.

I didn't know why I could see these things.

But I knew this was our only chance to keep him alive.

"Cooperate with us."

I looked at him, enunciating each word.

"Your sister—the country will save her."

Chapter 21

The mask on the leader's face had already been removed.

He had a very ordinary Asian face.

But the shock and struggle in those eyes could not be faked.

His name was Lin Feng, a Malaysian Chinese and a former special forces soldier.

He lived by the sword for money.

But his younger sister was his only weak point.

"How... how did you know?"

His voice was hoarse and dry.

"We are Bureau Nine." "Chessboard" stepped forward, her voice having returned to its calm state. "We know much more than you could possibly imagine."

"We can guarantee that your sister will receive the best treatment."

"But the prerequisite is that you must cooperate with us to capture 'Gardener'."

Lin Feng's gaze flickered violently.

Loyalty versus family.

Within his heart, a battle between heaven and earth was raging.

In the end, he slumped, lowering the military knife in his hand.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because of this." "Chessboard" opened a miniature projection device on her wrist.

A video was projected onto the wall beside them.

In the video, a young girl in a hospital gown lay in a hospital bed, smiling weakly.

"Big brother, when are you coming to visit me?"

Lin Feng's eyes reddened instantly.

That was his sister, Lin Xue.

"Our people have already taken over the security for your sister at the hospital in London," "Chessboard" said. "Choose: let her recover in peace, or let her disappear along with you."

This was no choice.

This was an ultimatum.

Lin Feng closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he opened them again, the struggle in his eyes had turned into resolution.

"Fine."

"I’ll cooperate with you."

"Where is 'Gardener' now?"

"He should be on his way to the airport," Lin Feng said. "According to the original plan, after we got the item, he would immediately leave on the last flight to London tonight."

"Flight number, BA038."

"Departure time, 2:00 AM."

"Chessboard" glanced at the time.

"There’s one hour and twenty minutes left."

"It's too late."

"It's not."

I said.

I looked at "Chessboard" with firm eyes.

"Remember the Snow case?"

"Chessboard" was stunned for a moment, then immediately understood what I meant.

"Ghost, contact headquarters."

"Initiate the 'Red Channel' protocol, Level One clearance."

"Target: Capital International Airport, Terminal T3."