Twenty minutes later.

Capital International Airport.

The entire T3 terminal had been quietly placed under lockdown.

All flights had received "air traffic control" notices, delaying their departures.

Countless plainclothes police and national security officers filled every corner of the terminal.

We rode in an unmarked black commercial vehicle directly onto the tarmac.

This was Bureau Nine’s "Red Channel."

We stepped out of the car, passed through a dedicated corridor, and entered the departure hall directly.

"Gardener's location?" "Chessboard" asked.

"Locked. In the first-class lounge," came the voice from rear support.

We walked quickly toward the first-class lounge.

At the entrance, we saw Philip Jones.

"Gardener."

He was just about to walk out.

Seeing us, he froze.

The elegance and composure on his face vanished for the first time.

Replacing them was shock he could not conceal.

He couldn't fathom it.

Why had his elite action team been completely wiped out?

Why were we here so quickly?

But he soon regained his composure.

He even flashed a smile at us.

"Good evening, everyone."

"It seems my luck isn't very good tonight."

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I've lost."

He admitted defeat too readily.

Alarm bells rang in my heart.

Something was wrong.

A top-tier intelligence operative wouldn't give up so easily.

He definitely had another card to play.

"Have you really lost?"

I walked forward and stared into his eyes.

He smiled.

"Otherwise? I’ve already been surrounded by you."

"And my item has been taken by you as well."

"Polygraph’s" voice sounded in my earpiece.

"Heart rate 75, steady."

"He is lying, but he believes what he is saying is not a lie."

"He is stalling for time."

What was he waiting for?

My gaze fell on the passport and boarding pass in his hand.

By some stroke of intuition, I reached out and took the boarding pass from his hand.

My fingertips brushed against the thin slip of paper.

Instantly.

A frantic, chilling thought flooded my mind.

Not an image.

Not a sound.

But a pure, vicious intent.

"Mutual destruction."

I jerked my head up to look at "Gardener."

The corners of his mouth were curving into an eerie, triumphant smile.

"You think the intelligence is in the inkstone?"

He looked at me, enunciating every word.

"That was just a carrier."

"The true intelligence is a signal."

"A signal that can wipe this plane, along with the three hundred-plus passengers on board, off the sky."

"And this on my wrist," he gestured to the watch on his wrist, "is the signal transmitter."

"As long as I miss my boarding time, it will launch automatically."

"You’ve captured me, but you’ll have to pay with three hundred innocent lives."

"Tell me, who truly loses, and who wins?"

He was insane.

This was a maniac through and through.

"Chessboard" and the others' faces all changed.

They wanted to rush forward and subdue him, but they were afraid of the consequences.

Only I remained unpanicked.

Because, when I had touched the boarding pass just now.

I had seen something else.

A detail he had overlooked.

I smiled.

"You're wrong."

"The transmitter is indeed on your wrist."

"But the receiver isn't on the plane."

I looked at him and slowly uttered the name that turned his face ash-grey.

"It’s on your black-clad female assistant, isn't it?"

"She didn't go to the monitoring room at all; she boarded the plane early and is sitting in seat 37B in economy class."

"But she suffers from claustrophobia and has a habitual little tic."

"Every three minutes, she presses the ring on her left pinky finger."

"And that ring is the true detonation receiver."

"Am I right?"

The smile on "Gardener’s" face froze completely.

He looked at me as if looking at a devil.

He couldn't believe that his flawless Plan B had been seen through in this manner.

"Ghost, move." "Chessboard’s" voice was cold and decisive.

"Ghost’s" figure flashed and vanished.

Thirty seconds later.

His voice sounded in the earpiece.

"Target cleared, item secured."

"Gardener" had lost completely.

He stood like a statue, frozen on the spot.

Then, his entire body seemed as if all strength had been drained, and he collapsed limply.

The case was over.

Bureau Nine headquarters.

Director Chen’s office.

"Gardener" and his massive network had been uprooted.

Lin Feng received leniency due to his significant meritorious service.

His sister, under the arrangements of Bureau Nine, successfully completed her surgery.

The five of us stood in a line.

"You have done a fantastic job."

On Director Chen’s face was undisguised approval.

"You have proven that you are the sharpest blade in Bureau Nine."

"Starting today, you are no longer probationary."

"Bureau Nine’s First Special Task Action Group is officially established."

He walked up to me.

"'Antenna', your ability exceeded our expectations."

"You aren't just able to see the past."

"You can also see... into the human heart."

I raised my right hand.

The chill that once filled me with fear had already vanished.

Replaced by a kind of warm and firm strength.

I finally understood.

What I touch is not merely objects, not merely the past.

But the good and evil, the light and darkness of human nature.

And my mission.

Is to use these hands to guard the light.

"Get some good rest." Director Chen patted my shoulder.

"A week from now, you have a new mission."

"In the South China Sea, a sunken ancient merchant ship."

"It is said that recently, late at night, it has been sending out signals that do not belong to this era."

I looked out the window.

The sunlight of dawn was piercing through the clouds.

A new day had begun.

And we were about to embark on a new journey.

[THE END]