412: No, Master, why aren't you dead yet?!

Chapter 404: No… Master, why aren't you dead yet?!

As night deepened, Yingnan City's lights began to twinkle, and the television screens in thousands of homes, along with the public displays on streets and alleys, were all dominated by the same sudden news bulletin on this quiet night.

On screen, a female announcer with a slightly stiff expression was delivering the news clearly and precisely.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt this program for an urgent city announcement. Due to sudden safety inspections required for the main structure of Yingnan Tower,

to ensure public safety, surrounding roads will be temporarily closed starting today. Relevant departments will work with professional teams to complete the repair work as quickly as possible.

We ask all citizens and passing vehicles to please take detours. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause..."

This announcement used official language and a calm tone, no different from everyday notices, at most eliciting a few grumbles about "why are they suddenly doing repairs again?"

In a hidden stronghold somewhere in the city, General Wei Feng might have been swirling a glass of wine, admiring the "masterpiece" he personally directed on the television screen.

He reveled in the twisted pleasure of cloaking bloody violence in a veneer of civilization, enjoying the control of keeping an entire city in the dark while making specific individuals feel as if they were sitting on pins and needles.

The night cloaked Yingnan Tower in a layer of inky black. This city landmark, usually resplendent with light, now exuded a chilling Aura of 'keep out'.

The plaza below the tower had long lost its usual hustle and bustle.

Striking yellow caution tapes, like a Seal, tightly encircled the entire area.

All roads leading to the tower were blocked by heavy armored vehicles and stern-faced guards.

This was originally the vibrant heart of Yingnan City, a Holy Land for tourists and citizens alike to stroll and visit.

However, since the vague "maintenance notice" spread across the city via radio waves in the morning, a silent lockdown had suddenly descended.

Large numbers of fully armed guards, as if facing a formidable enemy, formed an impenetrable human wall,

any curious gaze attempting to approach was mercilessly turned back with a cold, "Official duties in progress, dangerous repairs, please leave immediately."

A suffocating tension permeated the air; even an idiot could tell that a major event was unfolding.

The guards' lips were tightly pressed, their fingers never leaving their equipment, their gazes constantly sweeping the empty plaza and the towering spire of the tower.

They had received orders to Seal, but no one had told them the truth behind the Seal.

This vigilance against the unknown was more tormenting than facing danger directly.

And in the outer darkness, long-range media lenses, having caught wind of the situation, attempted to penetrate this forbidden zone, demarcated by power and secrecy, to capture a shred of truth.

All signs indicated that a shocking secret lay hidden behind this so-called "maintenance."

Yingnan Tower, this landmark piercing the city's night sky with its three-hundred-meter height, now stood like a cold, giant glass sword in the darkness.

Its transparent glass curtain walls, which should have been dazzling under the lights,

now only dimly reflected the flashing red and blue guard lights below the tower, exuding an ominous dark red and eerie blue.

Inside the tower, the eight sightseeing elevators that usually zipped up and down were now heavily guarded.

The path to the top floor had been completely locked down.

However, on the observation deck of the tower's top floor, the atmosphere was solidified to the extreme.

The guards who arrived first were merely standing rigidly in place, their expressions horrified as they looked up towards the very tip of the tower's spire.

As if they had witnessed an incredible sight far beyond their comprehension.

Someone unconsciously gaped, oblivious to the cold sweat trickling down their temples.

The wind howled at the top of the tower, but it could not dispel this suffocating silence.

Below the tower's spire, two bloodied figures swayed slowly in the cold high-altitude wind.

Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen had long lost their former dignity; their clothes were tattered, and they were covered in wounds.

Congealed dark red bloodstains intertwined with freshly oozing crimson, forming a ghastly pattern under the bright lights.

Both men's heads hung low, their breaths so faint that only a slight rise and fall of their chests remained, clearly indicating they were taking in less Qi than they were expelling.

Most shocking were the ropes binding them—they were not thick safety cables, but rather transparent fishing lines as delicate as piano strings.

These thin lines were deeply embedded in the flesh of their wrists, suspending the entire weight of both men three hundred meters above the deadly ground.

The slightest increase in the night wind would cause their bodies to spin and sway uncontrollably.

The thin lines would then emit an almost inaudible "creaking" sound, as if they were about to snap completely at any moment.

The guards on the tower's top platform dared not even breathe, much less move easily.

Any slight tremor could be the last straw, instantly turning these two core figures of the Lu family into plummeting victims in the night sky.

This was a meticulously designed and cruel performance.

The perpetrators not only sought to destroy bodies but also to torment the nerves of all witnesses, nailing the most primal fear to the highest point of this city.

However, this was not all.

At the very top of the ropes, where they connected to the tower's spire structure, two fist-sized miniature bombs were clearly tied.

Their casings reflected a cold, hard metallic sheen under the lights.

A tactical expert lowered his binoculars, his face pale, and turned to the on-site commander, his voice dry.

"Director Feng, the culprits claim to have installed multiple miniature cameras at critical points on the tower body.

They are monitoring in real-time... As long as any of our people attempt to approach, cut the ropes, or snipe the chains..."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing, before adding with difficulty.

"They will immediately detonate the bombs. At that point... even if the hostages aren't killed by the fall, they will certainly not survive an explosion of that magnitude."

The so-called "miniature" bombs, after assessment by the expert team, contained enough explosive to completely destroy the ropes along with the nearby body structures.

This was an unsolvable double death trap—fall, or be blown to smithereens.

All the guards' gazes shifted desperately between the two bombs, then dropped powerlessly.

This was not a rescue, but a public execution meticulously orchestrated by the culprits.

"Beep beep beep — beep beep beep —"

A series of urgent and sharp electronic beeps sounded particularly jarring on the tension-filled observation deck.

It wasn't coming from the command channel, but from the pocket of the on-site commander—Director Feng.

The tactical experts, who had been hotly debating around him, instantly fell silent, all eyes fixed on him.

Director Feng's brows furrowed, a trace of interrupted impatience flashing across his face.

But when he reached for his personal phone and saw the flashing caller ID on the screen, his entire Aura suddenly changed.

Director Feng's impatience instantly vanished, replaced by a reflexive deference, even a hint of imperceptible nervousness, that a subordinate shows to a superior.

He took a deep breath and raised a hand to silence everyone around him.

Then, with a tone completely different from his previous commanding voice, slightly humble, he answered the phone.

"Hello, this is Feng Jianguo."

An unequivocal command came from the other end of the line: "Old Feng, we just received a notice from above. Everyone immediately withdraw to the first floor, execute immediately."

"Withdraw to the first floor?" Director Feng subconsciously looked up at the two figures hanging from the tower's spire, his voice involuntarily rising: "But what about these two people?

The culprits explicitly warned that any unusual movement could detonate the bombs! If we withdraw now, wouldn't that be..."

"The Lu family has arrived."

The voice on the other end interrupted him, calm but carrying an undeniable weight.

"You only need to follow my orders. Now, immediately, all personnel withdraw to the first floor and await orders."

"This is not a discussion, it is an order."

As the words fell, the call was disconnected, leaving only a busy signal.

Director Feng stood rigid, holding his phone.

He couldn't understand—hanging up there were two of the most outstanding members of the Lu family's third generation.

Lu Guanghai controlled Yingnan City's underground overlords, and Lu Guangchen was the general manager of the "Golden Prestige Jade Cup" Nightclub.

Such identities, such a dangerous situation.

Logically, it should be handled by those like them, who were professionally trained.

Director Feng's mind raced through contingency plans, "Even if the Lu family arrived, could they know more about rescue than professionals like us?"

He looked up at Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen in the sky again, a complex emotion flashing across his face—confusion, relief, but more than anything, a deep sense of powerlessness.

Well, it's fine. Anyway, the level of this matter has already exceeded what he could handle.

The people above have spoken, what's the use of me overthinking here?

If the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up. From this moment on, this case is no longer my responsibility.

Regardless of whether the outcome is a tragedy or a miracle, the consequences will be borne solely by the Lu family.

When Director Feng picked up the communicator again, his voice had returned to its usual steady and authoritative tone, even carrying a hint of detachment, as if it no longer concerned him.

"All units, immediately withdraw to the first-floor lobby and assemble for orders. Repeat, withdraw immediately!"

This order caused a subtle stir and bewilderment among his subordinates.

But strict discipline made them execute it quickly, and the previously heavily guarded upper platform was soon empty.

Only the two figures of Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen still swayed in the wind three hundred meters above the ground.

In the eastern suburbs of Yingnan City, a forgotten cluster of unfinished buildings lay silently in the night.

And in the deepest part of the complex, beneath a bare concrete-framed building, a light glowed eerily.

On the wide, rough concrete floor, several leather sofas, starkly out of place amidst the surrounding decay, were casually arranged.

In the middle were a few crooked wooden tables, piled high with beer bottles and greasy leftover meal boxes, emitting the smell of stale food.

Most conspicuous was the huge LCD television.

A power cable as thick as a child's arm extended from behind the TV, connecting to a roaring diesel generator in the corner, providing crude and cheap energy to this ruin.

The television screen was divided into several frames, the clearest of which was a real-time view of Yingnan Tower's top floor, three hundred meters high.

Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen, like broken puppets, swaying limply in the wind, were captured in clear close-up by the high-definition camera.

General Wei Feng was shirtless, his muscular body, solid as rock, gleamed with an oily sheen in the dim light.

The crisscrossing old scars, like coiled centipedes, silently spoke of the cruelty of his fifteen years overseas.

He lounged deeply in the main sofa, one foot casually propped on the coffee table.

General Wei Feng's gaze occasionally fell on the two dying figures on the screen, a curve of pleasure mixed with cruelty forming on his lips.

In the shadows behind him, the four masked subordinates stood like statues.

"Brother Feng, the cops withdrew so readily, could it be a trick?" A lean, sharp-eyed subordinate stepped forward half a pace and asked in a low voice.

"Should we notify Qing Hu to be careful?"

Qing Hu was one of their members, ambushed with a "Black Star Sniper Rifle" on the top floor of a building opposite Yingnan Tower.

His sniper scope had been fixed on Lu Guangchen and Lu Guanghai.

Even... even if the bomb failed, the sniper rifle could still remotely kill Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen, ensuring absolute certainty.

This backup plan was the ultimate guarantee that General Wei Feng and his men dared to sit here calmly, as if fishing.

General Wei Feng, sunken in the sofa, suddenly furrowed his brows.

His bronze-colored arm muscles instantly tensed and bulged, veins writhing like pythons, as if containing the explosive power of a volcano about to erupt.

He intensely disliked this feeling of losing control.

"Hmph, they wouldn't dare..."

Before he finished speaking, General Wei Feng seemed to catch something and abruptly turned his head to look outside the building, at the concrete open space enveloped in darkness.

Almost simultaneously—

"Vroom—!!"

The roar of engines, growing from distant to near, instantly tore through the night's silence!

From all directions, black anti-terror armored vehicles violently crashed through the rubble and ruins along their path.

The powerful headlights on their roofs all switched on with a "whoosh," intertwining into a suffocating web of light that illuminated the entire first floor of the unfinished building as brightly as day!

"Don't move! Everyone drop your weapons and get on the ground!"

"Assault Team One in position!"

"Sniper Team has locked onto targets!"

Scrambling and swift footsteps, accompanied by cold shouts, surged from all directions.

Hundreds of elite guards, clad in black combat uniforms with only their cold eyes visible beneath their helmets, flashed out from behind the armored vehicles like ghosts.

They quickly fanned out in standard tactical formation, completing the encirclement in an instant.

The dark muzzles of automatic rifles were precisely aimed at the five individuals in the sofa area.

At the same time, on the top floors of several taller unfinished buildings nearby,

more than a dozen faint infrared laser aiming beams simultaneously lit up, steadily pinpointing General Wei Feng and his core subordinates' foreheads, hearts, and other vital areas.

Those were the lock-on markers of Barrett heavy sniper rifles, capable of tearing them to shreds in an instant.

The situation instantly reversed!

One word to describe it—inescapable!

At this moment, the encirclement suddenly parted to both sides, creating a narrow passage.

All gun muzzles remained fixed on the five people in the center of the scene, the air so thick it seemed to drip with water.

Footsteps sounded, neither fast nor slow, carrying a unique rhythm.

The newcomer wore a set of somewhat faded gray traditional martial arts attire, his figure as tall and straight as a pine tree.

Though his temples were frosted with white and his face was etched with the marks of time, his eyes shone with astonishing brightness, like ancient wells containing thunder, calm yet full of oppressive power.

It was none other than Old Dog Lu Yulong, the master of the Wanhui Guilongquan martial arts hall.

He stopped, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic sofa area, then over the five black-clad subordinates who looked as if they were facing a formidable enemy.

Finally, his gaze settled on the shirtless, muscular man in the center of the sofa.

Facing this desperate situation, which would make any hardened criminal collapse,

General Wei Feng not only showed no trace of panic, but a brilliantly wide, even somewhat maniacally joyful smile spread across his lips.

He spread his hands, as if embracing this critical moment, his voice loud, carrying undisguised sarcasm and deep-seated hatred:

"Master, after so many years, you're still so vigorous and awe-inspiring!"

General Wei Feng deliberately paused, each word seemingly squeezed through his teeth, carrying a venomous pleasure.

"No—why aren't you dead yet?!"

At these words, all the guards' fingers involuntarily pressed against their triggers.

The four subordinates' bodies instantly tensed, like springs compressed to their limit.

Old Dog Lu Yulong was expressionless, simply watching General Wei Feng, his gaze profound, as if it pierced through fifteen years of time.

He saw the young man who once sweated profusely in the martial arts hall, and he saw the Devil Head now consumed by hatred.