56: Chapter 56 Police, FBI, and the "Legal" Counterattack

On Wednesday afternoon, in the surveillance room of the San Fernando Valley shooting range base, police radio frequencies broadcasted constant communications.

"...The crime scene of the shooting has been cordoned off. Seven attackers were found: two dead, five seriously injured, and none were conscious when apprehended. Weapons used were MP5 submachine guns with filed-off serial numbers..."

Alex listened to the police reports intercepted by Rex. Four hours had passed since the ambush outside the courthouse at noon. Both the LAPD (Los Angeles Police Department) and the FBI had arrived at the scene—using fully automatic weapons on the street meant this was no longer an ordinary criminal case; it involved domestic terrorism or professional hitmen.

"The FBI is pulling all surrounding surveillance footage," Rex said, switching screens to show aerial footage of the police cordoning off the scene. "But they haven't found us yet—Hank handled it very cleanly. The car we drove had cloned plates, we switched cars three times along the way, and for the last leg of the journey, we used an off-road vehicle without license plates to come in from the mountains."

Hank's arm was wrapped in a bandage—a bullet had grazed him, just a flesh wound, and with his rapid healing ability, it would scab over by tomorrow. His expression was stern: "But we can't keep hiding. Sooner or later, the FBI will find out you attended the hearing today and will come to question you."

"Then let them come," Alex said calmly. "We aren't criminals; we are victims. Besides... the FBI's arrival might actually be an opportunity."

He pulled up the system interface. His popularity had surged again because of the courthouse shootout:

Current Popularity: 3,450,920 points

Exchange points were sufficient, but what he needed most right now was strategy.

"Rex, who is in charge of this FBI case?"

Rex quickly searched the database: "Agent Ethan Miller, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Violent Crimes Unit, fifteen years of experience. Background... his wife is an environmental lawyer, and his brother serves in the Air Force. No obvious political leanings."

"Contact him," Alex said. "Provide an anonymous tip—just say the attackers might be related to a security contractor for Northrop Corporation. Don't give evidence, just give a direction."

"Why? Won't this bring trouble upon ourselves?"

"Because after the FBI intervenes, Northrop won't dare to easily deploy force at the level of the Guardians of Truth again," Alex analyzed. "The FBI will investigate a street shootout to the end, but if it's an 'accident' or 'disappearance,' they might not be as invested. We need to nail this matter down within the category of 'violent crime'."

This was a counterattack on a legal level. Muddy the waters, get more official forces involved, and increase the opponent's operational costs.

Hank nodded: "At the same time, we will continue to push your bounty plan. The effect of today's live stream is already showing—I just received news that Northrop's stock price has fallen by 4.2% in after-hours trading."

"Not enough," Alex said, pulling up his computer. "I want to raise the stakes."

He logged into his encrypted email to check the emails received for the bounty. In addition to the previous three, five new ones had been added—there were former Northrop engineers, aviation insurance investigators, and even an email from Europe claiming, "NT-7 technology originated from a laboratory in Germany, and the raw data itself was problematic."

The authenticity of the information needed verification, but the trend had already formed: when a $100,000 bounty was linked to a "$20 billion contract," those in the know began to calculate the pros and cons.

Alex filtered out the two leads most likely to be verified and had Rex's team follow up. Then, he began preparing the second wave of content for tonight.

"Rex, do you have a green screen and filming equipment here?"

"There's a simple studio, used for filming tactical training videos in the past."

"That will do." Alex stood up. "I need to record a video to be released at 8 PM tonight. The theme is: 'How to Continue Creating Under the Gun'."

This wasn't playing the victim; it was showing resilience. It was to tell his supporters "I haven't fallen," and also to tell his opponents "Your attacks are ineffective."

Filming only took an hour. Alex sat in the tactical training area of the shooting range, with various firearms and equipment in the background (blurred, without showing specific models). He was wearing a simple black T-shirt, and the bandage on his arm was clearly visible.

"At noon today, twenty seconds after I walked out of the courthouse, the gunfire rang out." He looked at the camera, his tone as calm as if he were telling someone else's story. "Someone didn't want me to speak, didn't want me to question a certain material defect, and didn't want me to affect a certain $20 billion contract."

"They failed."

"So I am sitting here, recording this video. Tonight, I will continue to work on the mix for 'We Are Young.' Tomorrow, I will discuss with my lawyer how to advance the FAA investigation. Every day, as long as I am alive, I will continue to do these things."

He paused, looking directly into the camera:

"I know many people are paying attention to this matter. Some want to know the truth, some are watching the show, and some are waiting for me to fall. I want to say to all who are watching: The core of this matter is not the shootout, not the conspiracy, not even my personal safety. It is—in the United States, can an ordinary person safely speak the truth when they discover a systemic problem?"

At the end of the video, he displayed a copy of a document he obtained at today's hearing—the "Notice of Formal Investigation Initiation" issued by the FAA.

"The investigation has been initiated. Regardless of the outcome, the process itself is the answer."

The video was released on time at 8 PM, synchronized across multiple platforms. Alex didn't buy any promotions, relying purely on the heat of the event. One hour later, the view count exceeded one million.

---

At 9 PM, the FBI arrived as expected.

It wasn't a large force, just two cars and four agents. Rex's surveillance system had captured their approach ten minutes in advance.

"Let them in," Alex said. "But only Agent Miller is allowed to enter the main house; the others must stay on the perimeter. Hank, accompany me to meet the guest. Rex, record the audio and video throughout."

This was a necessary precaution—there could be people on the FBI payroll who had been bought off.

Agent Ethan Miller was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a well-maintained physique, sharp eyes, but a calm expression. After showing his credentials, he got straight to the point:

"Mr. Su, regarding the shooting outside the courthouse today, we have reason to believe you were the intended target. We need your cooperation in the investigation."

"I will cooperate," Alex said, sitting on the sofa, his posture relaxed but alert. "But before that, I want to confirm one thing—will this investigation be taken seriously? Or will it, like the investigation into my parents' plane crash ten years ago, become just another archived file?"

Miller's eyes flickered slightly: "Your parents' case... I reviewed the files this morning. There are indeed some suspicious points."

This was unexpected for Alex. He had assumed the FBI would just go through the motions.

"So you will investigate it seriously?"

"I am an FBI agent, not a politician." Miller took a tablet out of his briefcase. "According to the on-site ballistic analysis, the attackers used MP5 submachine guns manufactured by the German company Heckler & Koch, but the batch is very specific—it was customized for the special forces of a Middle Eastern country in 2008, and that batch of weapons was later 'lost' during transport."

He pulled up the data: "More importantly, we found this on one of the dead attackers."

The photo showed: The attacker had a subtle tattoo on the back of his neck—not a pattern, but a QR code. After scanning, it was a string of encrypted code.

"Our technicians cracked part of the code," Miller said. "It points to a server cluster called 'Ashes,' located in the Cayman Islands. That server... once provided communication encryption for an outsourced security project for Northrop Corporation."

Alex and Hank exchanged a glance. The FBI's efficiency was higher than imagined, and they were heading in the completely right direction.

"So you have already locked onto Northrop?" Alex asked.

"Locking onto them and proving it are two different things." Miller put away the tablet. "Northrop will claim it was the action of a contractor and that they had no knowledge of it. Furthermore, the 'Ashes' server had its data wiped at 3 PM this afternoon, and the physical server might be destroyed tonight."

A typical distancing tactic. But Alex grasped the key point: "You said you 'used to' serve Northrop? Does that mean you don't anymore?"

"According to communication records, that server cluster terminated its contract with Northrop three months ago." Agent Miller looked at Alex, "But interestingly, the server administrator privileges have remained in the hands of Northrop's former security chief—that person resigned last year and is now a freelance consultant."

"Guardians of Truth," Hank said in a low voice.

Agent Miller's gaze sharpened: "You know this name?"

"I've heard rumors," Hank replied, "A multinational PMC that specializes in sensitive jobs."

"Not just sensitive jobs." Agent Miller leaned forward, "We suspect they are involved in at least twelve 'accidental deaths' or 'disappearances' over the past five years. The victims were mostly whistleblowers, journalists, and internal informants. But every investigation gets stuck on the chain of evidence—they are just too professional."

Alex understood. The FBI wasn't here to go through the motions; they genuinely wanted to take down the Guardians of Truth organization. And today's shooting might have been a rare mistake by the other side—acting in a downtown area within the United States left too many traces.

"What do you need me to do?" Alex asked directly.

"Two things." Agent Miller said, "First, cooperate with our investigation and provide all the information you have—about NT-7, about your parents, about anyone or anything that might be connected. Second, continue doing what you are doing now."

"Continue?"

"Yes." Agent Miller offered a rare smile, "Your bounty livestream today, your videos, your hearing—these public pressures will make Northrop and the Guardians of Truth reveal more flaws. Within legal limits, the more high-profile, the better. We need them to panic, we need them to make mistakes."

This was something Alex hadn't expected—the FBI wanted him to continue acting as "bait," but they would provide protection.

"What kind of protection can you provide?"

"We can't provide public protection; that would alert the enemy," Agent Miller said, "But I will give you an encrypted communication channel. If there is an urgent threat, you can call for support. Additionally, we will monitor communications from Northrop and Winston's office—while it can't be used as evidence in court, it can provide early warnings."

Alex thought for a moment and reached out his hand: "Deal."

Agent Miller shook his hand with a firm grip: "Also, a personal piece of advice—you'd better leave Los Angeles for a while. Once the Guardians of Truth fail, they will quickly plan a second attempt. Next time it might not be a street shootout, but more covert methods."

"Such as?"

"Food poisoning, car accidents, or even medical malpractice." Agent Miller's tone was serious, "They are all experts."

Alex nodded. He had already intended to do so.

After Agent Miller left, Hank immediately said: "We can't fully trust the FBI. They might have a mole too."

"I know," Alex said, "So we need to have our own plan."

He pulled up the system and redeemed a new ability:

【Redemption: Anti-Surveillance Detection (Basic)】

【Cost: 200,000 points】

【Current: 3,250,920 points】

【Effect: Can perceive whether one is being monitored by electronic devices (bugs, trackers, hidden cameras), range 50 meters】

A subtle sense of perception spread out. Alex closed his eyes and felt the interior of the base—no anomalies. But his Spider-Sense suddenly tingled toward a certain direction outside the base.

"Rex, check the utility pole three hundred meters east of the base; there might be a hidden camera."

Ten minutes later, Rex's team indeed found a small wireless camera disguised as a bird monitor there, with a field of view that perfectly covered the base entrance.

"The Guardians of Truth have already found us." Hank's expression was grim.

"As expected." Alex was surprisingly calm, "Perfect, we can use this."

He formulated a plan: leave Los Angeles in a high-profile manner tomorrow morning and head to Nashville—that was his base of operations; Taylor's team was there, and Universal Music's Nashville branch was also there. Set a trap along the way to see if the Guardians of Truth would strike again.

At the same time, in Nashville, he had a better stage—the audition for the opening act of Taylor's tour was next week. That was an opportunity to face tens of thousands of audience members, and also a perfect safety barrier: under the spotlight, in front of countless cameras, it would be much harder to make a move.

"But before that..." Alex looked at Hank, "I need to test some things."

He asked Rex to take him to the combat simulation area of the shooting range. There were moving targets, obstacles, and simulated building structures.

Alex put on a tactical vest and picked up a Glock 17 (training gun, live ammunition but low-pressure rounds). He wanted to test the combined effects of Precision Shooting, Dynamic Vision, Crisis Prediction, and Parkour Mastery.

The simulation scenario started: three moving targets appeared from different directions, representing attackers.

Alex moved.

Parkour Mastery allowed him to dart out like a cheetah, Dynamic Vision captured the movement trajectory of each target, and Precision Shooting allowed him to fire continuously while running—bang, bang, bang! All three shots hit the bullseye.

Vaulting over obstacles, leaping through windows, sliding and shooting... all movements were as fluid as instinct. This wasn't a level that could be achieved at a training ground; it was the effect of muscle memory imprinting—once a skill was redeemed, it was deeply embedded in the nerves.

Hank and Rex watched from the side, their expressions shifting from surprise to gravity.

"His level..." Rex said in a low voice, "It's comparable to the tactical shooters on our team. But he's only eighteen and hasn't received professional training yet."

"He has talent," Hank said vaguely, "More importantly, he has determination."

The test ended; Alex's breathing was steady, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. The effect of Comprehensive Physical Enhancement was significant.

"That's enough," he said, "Back to Nashville tomorrow. But before that..."

He opened his laptop and began writing an email. The recipients were the congresswoman who had been most supportive of him at the hearing today, as well as reporters from The New York Times and The Washington Post, and several aviation safety NGOs.

Email content: A concise chart of "NT-7 Material Defect Timeline and Related Incidents," making no accusations, only presenting facts. Postscript:

"I will return to Nashville tomorrow to prepare for musical work, but the pursuit of truth will not stop. No matter where I am, I will continue to ask: will a safety issue involving hundreds of human lives and a twenty-billion-dollar contract be treated seriously, or will it be buried again?"

Click send.

This was a declaration of war, and also a diversion. Let the opponent's attention follow him, while applying pressure on multiple fronts.

---

Late at night, Alex lay in bed, the tingling of his Spider-Sense maintained at a medium level. The threat was not resolved, but the path was clear.

His phone vibrated. Taylor sent a message:

"Saw the news. Are you okay? Is there anything I need to do?"

Alex replied: "I'm returning to Nashville tomorrow. I'll be ready for your audition."

"The audition isn't important; your safety is. I have an estate in Nashville with very good security. You can stay over."

This exceeded Alex's expectations. He hesitated for a few seconds:

"It will bring danger to you."

"I'm not afraid. And... maybe I can help you. My father knows some people."

Taylor's father was a Wall Street financier with extensive connections. This might be an unexpected help.

Alex finally replied: "See you tomorrow. Thank you."

He put down his phone and closed his eyes.

The FBI, police, Northrop, Guardians of Truth, Winston, media, the public... there were more and more pieces on the chessboard.

But he was no longer that prey who could only run away.

Having redeemed so many abilities and accumulated so many chips, now it was time—to start fighting back.