215: Classics never go out of style.

The figure in black armor was like a sharp blade slicing through murky waves; after knocking down several fearless Sentry Dogs and breaking through the last sparse line of defense, he finally stepped onto the smooth floor of the main stage.

Shen Mingyuan's arm holding the gun lowered slightly, but the muzzle still pointed vaguely toward the other side of the stage. The red light of his visor locked onto Lin Mo and the youth he held firmly in his grasp.

"My, my, our 'hero' has finally arrived."

The smile on Lin Mo's face became more pronounced, carrying a calm sense of being in control; he even took the leisure to straighten his cuffs, which had been slightly wrinkled from his earlier movements.

He pulled the youth—who was weak from suffocation and still struggling slightly—tighter against him, almost completely shielding his own vital organs.

Then, as if performing a magic trick, his other hand pulled a thin, matchbox-sized device with a cold metallic luster from his coat.

Before Wei Ziqing could react, he flipped his wrist, and with a soft "click," the device adhered firmly near Wei Ziqing's temple.

Wei Ziqing's body stiffened, and he began to struggle more violently, but with his neck and arms firmly restrained, it was in vain.

"Quiet down, little friend," Lin Mo said softly, his gaze remaining on Shen Mingyuan. "Mr. shadow, for our first formal meeting, allow me to introduce this little gadget.

It is now stuck very tightly to this child's head. More importantly—its detonation signal is linked to my heartbeat."

He tilted his head slightly, as if savoring the ingenuity of the design:

"In other words, if my heart stops beating for any reason—like your bullet, or something else—even for just a second, this lovely little thing will go 'bang'... and several other little surprises scattered throughout this venue will be awakened immediately.

As for the result, I'm sure you can imagine. This little friend's head, all those innocent spectators over there, and even this stage we're on... well, things will get very lively."

He carefully observed Shen Mingyuan's reaction beneath the armor; although he couldn't see an expression, he enjoyed interpreting it through posture and pauses.

"I trust you won't do that, right? After all, you're a 'hero.' Isn't a hero's duty to protect as many people as possible? To sacrifice the few for the many? Oh, of course,"

He shifted his tone, adding a touch of malicious inquiry, "I also know that guys like you, draped in halos, sometimes get a rush of blood to the head and think sacrificing yourselves is grand.

But today, your life and their lives are tied together; now that's an interesting twist."

"Hmph," Shen Mingyuan's voice came through his faceplate, cold and hard as iron. "What exactly do you want? By setting up this trap, you haven't left yourself a way out either."

"A way out?" Lin Mo chuckled softly, as if he had heard something hilarious. "I don't need such a thing. What I've ever cared about isn't my own life or death, but..."

His gaze swept over the terrified crowd in the distance, fell back to the hostage in his hands, and finally fixed on Shen Mingyuan. Cold hatred and pleasure surged deep within his eyes,

"But seeing beautiful things torn to shreds, seeing cherished beliefs trampled upon, seeing you self-righteous 'Lights' reveal your helplessness before a desperate choice."

He paused, as if conceptualizing an interesting game.

"How about we play a classic little game? You justice-seekers should be very familiar with it—the Trolley Problem."

He tightened his grip on Wei Ziqing's throat, causing the youth to let out a painful groan, then said unhurriedly:

"Now, I'll throw this child among those starving 'children' over there. They'll be more than happy to have an extra meal."

"And you, Mr. shadow, have two choices."

"First, you go save him. With your speed, you might be able to snatch him from their fangs in time. However,"

Lin Mo's voice suddenly turned cold. "The moment you leave your current position to touch this child, I will immediately trigger another signal manually.

Not a heartbeat stop, but manual. The result—over there in the stands, the most densely populated area of hostages, will go 'bang' first! Many, many people will be blown to pieces ahead of time because you wanted to save this one person."

"Second, you stand still and watch this brave youth be torn apart and eaten piece by piece by my 'children.' Very bloody, very cruel, right?

But as long as you don't move, I guarantee that except for this child, everyone else is safe for now. The bombs won't go off."

He observed Shen Mingyuan with great interest, as if admiring a nearly finished masterpiece.

"On one side is the life of a vivid youth who has nothing to do with you; on the other is the collective survival of dozens or hundreds of strangers. Choose to save one and kill a crowd; choose to stand by and watch one die to preserve the lives of many."

"This is the Trolley Problem I've prepared for you, Mr. shadow."

Lin Mo leaned forward slightly, his voice filled with delightful malice:

"What do you think... of this problem?"Standard

Shen Mingyuan's gun hand pointed steadily at Lin Mo, but the gaze behind his visor constricted slightly at the cruel choice presented.

Save one, harm a hundred; don't save him, and watch Wei Ziqing be torn to shreds.

This was the most classic and bloody moral dilemma; any hasty decision could bring unbearable consequences.

"Hard to choose, isn't it? This kind of decision always causes a headache; it's enough to trigger anyone's indecisiveness."

Lin Mo's tone even carried a hint of sympathetic mockery. "Kind-hearted heroes fear this most. Well then, to lighten your burden and make the game more interesting... how about I give you a third option as a bonus? A brand-new answer."

Just then, from the periphery of the venue, there came the faint sounds of more frequent and violent explosions, gunfire, and the hum of some energy weapon, interspersed with the characteristic wails of Sentry Dogs. The sounds came from multiple directions; clearly, a fierce battle was breaking out outside.

Lin Mo listened intently. Far from being alarmed, he showed a sneer that said, "Just as I thought." He spoke calmly into a miniature microphone on his collar: "The 'guests' outside have arrived. Let all the children go 'welcome' them. They aren't needed here anymore."

At his command, the packs of Sentry Dogs surrounding the hostages and prowling near the stage let out low growls as if receiving an irresistible order, then quickly receded like a tide, flooding toward the exterior of the venue through various passages, clearly going to resist the assault from GUPA or other official forces.

In an instant, the stage and the area around the main hostages were empty, leaving only a mess and the terrified crowd.

"Alright, let's get back to the main topic."

"I remember you once called yourself a 'passing Detective'."

Lin Mo's gaze seemed to pierce through the armor as he scrutinized Shen Mingyuan. "A Detective... then you must be familiar with that consulting Detective who lived at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes, right?

Speaking of him, I'm reminded of one of the most famous and controversial endings of his career—'The Final Problem'."

Lin Mo's free hand pointed toward the edge of the stage, to an ordinary-looking floor seam covered in shadow: "Directly beneath this stage is a small underground compartment originally used for storing emergency equipment. I've modified it slightly; it's now filled with enough explosives to send this stage and everything on it to the heavens. Of course, they are very quiet right now."

His tone became like that of someone inviting another to participate in a puzzle-solving game:

"The third choice is: you, Mr. shadow, go down from the stage and enter that compartment. Inside is a very prominent red detonation button connected to the main control lines of all the explosives. You walk in, don't use any defenses, don't activate that ridiculous armor energy of yours, and then—press that button with your own hand. Use your body to fully and completely endure the explosion."

Lin Mo's eyes were frighteningly bright, filled with a morbid anticipation:

"Just like Sherlock Holmes chose to perish together with Professor Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls.

The fall of a hero for a higher goal—how classic, how dramatic!

If you do this, I guarantee on my meager reputation that I will immediately deactivate the device on this child's head and remotely disarm the fuses of all other bombs in the venue.

Everyone, including this brave youth and his 'father,' will be able to leave alive."

He tilted his head slightly: "Of course, you will die. Blown to bits, dead as can be. One life for everyone's life here. Doesn't this option... seem much clearer than the first two? It also fits the tragic aesthetic of heroes like you better, doesn't it?"

Shen Mingyuan remained silent, his body beneath the armor tense as a drawn bow. His mind raced, calculating every possibility, looking for flaws in the other's logic or layout, searching for an almost non-existent 'fourth answer'.

Lin Mo seemed tired of waiting. The smile on his face gradually cooled, replaced by that cold, impatient expression.

"Well, it seems we need a little pressure to help with the decision." He sighed, as if blaming Shen Mingyuan for not being decisive enough. His free hand pulled another palm-sized controller from his pocket, featuring a prominent digital screen and several buttons.

"Let's temporarily set aside that vexing 'child option' so your thoughts can be clearer." As he spoke, he quickly pressed a few buttons on the controller. A bright red number jumped onto the screen—"00:30"—and began to count down second by second.

"Watch closely, shadow." Lin Mo turned the screen toward Shen Mingyuan. "Thirty seconds. This is the time you have to make your 'heroic choice,' and it's also the length of everyone's life here."

"Don't even dream of evacuating anyone in this time."

He seemed to see through Shen Mingyuan's possible thoughts and added flatly, "This venue is too big. In thirty seconds, you wouldn't even cover half the distance to the nearest exit.

Of course, if you choose to try, I'd be happy to watch you all turn to ash as you run—that image would surely have its own flavor."

His tone regained that cold playfulness:

"The new rule is simple: a thirty-second countdown. The moment it hits zero, if you haven't entered that basement and pressed that button... then, unfortunately, all the bombs in the venue will be detonated simultaneously. At that time, there will be no survivors here, including me."

"Just like the ending Sherlock Holmes was originally supposed to have. Traditional, tragic, and full of symbolic meaning. I think... it's a fitting final act for today's performance."

"Oh, by the way," he waved the controller in his hand, his tone carrying a hint of mockery,

"also don't be naive enough to think that breaking this little thing will stop anything.

It's just an ordinary timer now, a bell tolling for the dead.

The real countdown, from the moment I pressed the start button, became like an arrow shot from a bow—no one can take it back.

The detonation programs for all the bombs run independently and cannot be stopped."

Then, under the stunned gazes of Shen Mingyuan and everyone who could see him, Lin Mo did something completely unexpected.

He released his grip on Wei Ziqing's throat and even gave the youth a gentle push, causing him to stumble out of his control and collapse a few steps away. The red light on the device at Wei Ziqing's temple was still flashing, but he was temporarily free.

Lin Mo didn't even look at Wei Ziqing, who was coughing violently on the ground, nor did he look at the commotion in the distance or the approaching shadow.

His face showed a complex expression—a mix of extreme weariness, the emptiness after achieving madness, and a sliver of twisted pleasure.

He muttered to himself, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible, yet it seemed to resonate in everyone's heart:

"The play is over; the actors should leave the stage. I... should leave the stage too."

Before his voice faded, he drew a pistol from his lower back with startling speed. Without the slightest hesitation, the muzzle was pressed directly against his right temple.

His gaze fell on Shen Mingyuan one last time, his lips curling into an indescribable, almost relieved arc.

Bang!

A crisp gunshot echoed through the venue, which had suddenly become deathly silent.

Lin Mo's body swayed, that final smile frozen on his face, and he fell straight backward, crashing heavily onto the stage. Blood quickly gushed from the side of his head, staining the smooth floor.

The controller slipped from his loosened hand, and the red countdown on the screen continued to tick mercilessly: 00:27... 00:26... 00:25... The entire venue was dead silent. Only those bright red numbers and the synchronized red light of the device on Wei Ziqing's temple emitted silent, deadly ticks.