142: Chapter 142 Long Zhantian VS "Ghost"
The thick fog had not yet dispersed, but the slaughter had already begun.
Long Zhantian pursued the target into the perimeter of the B-zone warehouse, which was piled high with timber, cables, and discarded machinery. His footsteps did not falter for a second, but every nerve in his body was taut like a drawn bowstring. He could hear his own suppressed breathing and heartbeat, and more importantly, he could hear the faint sound of wind and friction caused by the target—codenamed "Ghost"—moving rapidly between the complex obstacles, just like a real ghost.
The opponent's speed and agility were extraordinary, and he utilized the environment to the extreme. Every turn, every pause, was calculated to fall into visual blind spots or auditory confusion points. This was a top-tier hunter who had etched concealment and maneuverability into his bones.
But Long Zhantian was also a top-tier hunter. He abandoned the full-speed, wide-open sprint, switching instead to a more stable, rhythmic, and oppressive style of pursuit. His eyes scanned the ground rapidly—the barely visible footprints on the damp concrete, a broken spider web, fresh scratches on the timber... These subtle traces instantly constructed the target's general path of movement in his mind.
He did not rashly venture deep into the center of the yard; there were too many hiding spots there, making it easy to be ambushed. He chose to move along the edge of the yard, using the bases of several tall, abandoned gantry cranes as cover, maneuvering forward while whispering clear commands into his tactical headset to the members of "Dark Blade" who were flanking from other directions, like weaving a net that was gradually closing.
"Team A, left flank, control the area from Gantry Crane No. 2 to the waste oil tanks, block his escape route to the seaside."
"Team B, right flank, occupy the top of that row of containers, provide high-ground suppression, watch for potential climbing."
"Sniper team, report vision."
"'Eagle Eye' in position, target area partially obscured, approximately 40% visual blind spots. No clear trace of target found."
"Continue observation."
The communication channel contained only concise responses and rapid breathing. Everyone knew that in the face of such an enemy, any negligence could be paid for with blood.
Suddenly, from behind a pile of thick logs, came an extremely faint "click" sound, like a small pebble being stepped on.
Long Zhantian's eyes narrowed, his body instantly pressed against the back of a rusted iron barrel, his muzzle pointed toward the source of the sound. He did not immediately peek out, but instead unclipped a non-lethal stun grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin, and tossed it at a clever angle toward the rear of the log pile.
"Bang!"
A muffled explosion and a blinding flash erupted behind the log pile!
Almost at the same instant the explosion sounded, a dark shadow, like a startled civet cat, lunged out from the other side of the log pile. Instead of heading toward the seaside or open ground, it charged toward a nearby half-collapsed tool shed filled with tattered canvas and debris!
"Team B! Tool shed direction!" Long Zhantian shouted in a low voice, his body erupting into motion as he gave chase! By choosing the tool shed, the opponent was clearly trying to utilize the more complex and narrow environment to offset the disadvantage in numbers and firepower, engaging in close-quarters combat or setting traps!
The interior of the tool shed was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of mold and rust. The moment Long Zhantian rushed to the entrance, he slammed on the brakes, stopping short. He didn't rush in, but instead sidestepped like lightning, pointing his gun into the shed.
The shed was piled with debris, obstructing his view. It was deathly silent.
"Ghost" was gone.
Long Zhantian did not rashly enter. He crouched down, picked up a small piece of fresh wood shavings from the floor, and looked at the barely visible half-footprint at the entrance—the footprint pointed deep into the shed, but the pressure distribution was strange; the pressure on the forefoot seemed heavier.
A trap? Or a diversion?
He took a deep breath, and instead of choosing a conventional corner-clearing search, he spoke in a deep voice toward a discarded machine tool behind which someone could be hiding—a spot that seemed randomly placed but could actually form a stable firing position. His voice echoed in the empty, dilapidated shed:
"I know you're in there. 'Ghost,' or whatever other codename you go by."
There was no response from inside the shed.
Long Zhantian continued, his tone as cold as a blade: "Are the kids in kindergarten fun? Using their lives as bait, as test pawns—how many children like that have you killed in your life?"
This sentence was like a poisonous thorn, stabbing hard at the psychological defense line of the person in the shadows. For a top agent like "Ghost," a failed mission was acceptable, but using children as a means—even with his strong mental fortitude, it would inevitably leave a flaw and an unspeakable sense of shame deep in his heart.
Sure enough, in the shadows of a corner deep inside the shed, something seemed to fluctuate extremely slightly.
Now!
Long Zhantian did not fire at that fluctuation. Instead, he violently threw another stun grenade from his hand toward a rickety, rusted-part-filled shelf above the fluctuation point!
"Bang!"
The shelf was shaken and collapsed with a roar, parts falling like rain!
"Crash!"
Almost under the cover of the deafening sound of the shelf collapsing, a figure, like a viper that had been coiled for a long time, erupted from under a pile of canvas to Long Zhantian's left! A flash of cold light—a specially made ceramic dagger traced a lethal arc, swiping toward Long Zhantian's neck! The opponent hadn't been waiting at the position pointed to by Long Zhantian's verbal provocation and first feint at all; he had been lurking closer, in a more unexpected place, waiting for this fatal strike!
This strike was abrupt, ruthless, and precise to the extreme! "Ghost" didn't care at all what Long Zhantian had said; he was simply using the moment Long Zhantian's attention was diverted to launch the real killing blow!
Long Zhantian seemed caught off guard, his vital neck completely exposed to the blade!
"Die!" A trace of cold, human killing intent finally flashed in "Ghost's" gray eyes.
At the very instant the blade was about to touch his skin, Long Zhantian's body leaned backward at an angle that almost defied human mechanics! At the same time, his left hand, which had been hanging at his side, shot upward like lightning as if he had expected it all along. He didn't block the dagger; instead, he precisely clamped onto the pulse point of "Ghost's" knife-wielding wrist!
"You're too impatient." Long Zhantian's voice sounded as he leaned back, terrifyingly calm.
"Ghost" was horrified. With his wrist pulse point clamped, half his arm went numb instantly, and the dagger's momentum dropped sharply. But his reaction was also extremely fast; his left hand formed a blade, stabbing straight toward Long Zhantian's exposed ribs caused by his backward lean!
Long Zhantian seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. He twisted his left hand, which was clamping the opponent's pulse point, and using the momentum of his backward lean and the twisting force, he executed a fierce close-quarters throw, swinging "Ghost" over his head and slamming him hard into the ground!
"Bang!"
"Ghost" crashed heavily onto the dust- and wood-fragment-filled floor, but his extensive close-quarters combat experience allowed him to immediately curl up to dissipate the force, and the moment he touched the ground, both feet kicked toward Long Zhantian's abdomen like springs!
Long Zhantian had just completed the throw, his old strength spent and new strength not yet generated. It looked like he was about to be kicked!
At this critical moment, he released the hand gripping the opponent's pulse point, crossed his arms, and pressed down, forcefully blocking the fierce kick. The immense force made him take three steps back, his back hitting an iron rack with a muffled thud.
"Ghost" took the opportunity to perform a carp-kip, getting up without a moment's hesitation. He turned and bolted toward a hole in the deeper part of the tool shed, half-covered by tattered canvas! In close-quarters combat, the opponent's strength, reaction, and anticipation had exceeded his estimates, and with the perimeter outside closing in, continuing to tangle would mean certain death!
"Trying to run?" Long Zhantian steadied himself, spat out a mouthful of blood (he had injured his internal organs during the block), and a fierce light flared in his eyes. He didn't chase, but instead raised his hand and pulled the trigger toward the area above where "Ghost" was fleeing!
"Pfft, pfft, pfft!" The silenced pistol made a faint sound. The bullets weren't fired at "Ghost," but at the wooden beam above the hole that looked rotten and was supporting part of the shed roof!
"Crack! Crash—!"
The wooden beam snapped, and along with the piled-up debris and canvas on top, it collapsed with a roar, blocking the hole and temporarily cutting off "Ghost's" escape route!
"Ghost" was forced to stop. He turned around, and for the first time, his gray eyes truly met Long Zhantian's eyes, which were burning with fighting spirit. His retreat was cut off, and footsteps were rapidly approaching from outside.
This was a carefully chosen, and also forced, final arena.
"You're harder to deal with than 'Viper'." "Ghost's" voice was hoarse and dry, like sandpaper rubbing. He flexed his wrist, which had been twisted by Long Zhantian, and his other hand slowly pulled out another, shorter blade from his waist—a triangular spike with a faint, eerie blue luster on its edge.
"You're easier to kill than those children in the kindergarten." Long Zhantian holstered his empty pistol and backhanded a matte-black military knife from his leg, its edge glinting with streamlined luster in the dim light.
No more wasted words.
The next moment, two figures, like two desperate beasts, collided fiercely with the sound of tearing wind!
The military knife and the triangular spike collided, sparking a trail of fire!
Fists and feet exchanged blows, the dull thuds sounding like drums!
Dust was stirred up by the intense movements, dancing in the bleak daylight filtering through the gaps in the dilapidated shed.
This was the ultimate collision of technique, strength, will, and the instinct to kill. There were no flashy moves, only the simplest, most direct, and most lethal attacks and dodges. Every clash was within a hair's breadth, and every mistake could mean instant death.
Long Zhantian was powerful and heavy; his military knife swings carried a tragic killing intent honed on the battlefield, attacking instead of defending, pressing forward step by step.
"Ghost" was eerie and agile; the triangular spike was like a viper's tongue, specifically targeting joints, vitals, and visual blind spots, with murderous intent lurking in every dodge and maneuver.
In just over ten seconds, both of them had added several wounds. Long Zhantian's left arm had a bloody gash from the triangular spike, while "Ghost's" ribs had been grazed by the military knife, drawing a burst of blood.
But both seemed unable to feel pain, their eyes filled only with increasingly intense killing intent and focus.
"You can't catch me." After a fierce exchange of thrusts was blocked, "Ghost" suddenly crouched low, a sweep kick attacking Long Zhantian's lower body.
"I don't need to catch you." Long Zhantian leaped to avoid it, his military knife hacking down in one motion, "I just need to keep you here."
"Keep me here to wait for death?" "Ghost" rolled to avoid it, the triangular spike thrusting like a viper toward Long Zhantian's ankle.
"Wait until your value is squeezed dry, and then be disposed of like trash." Long Zhantian changed his footing repeatedly, narrowly avoiding it, and slashed his military knife horizontally toward the opponent's neck.
"Shhh-rip!"
Although "Ghost" leaned back in time, his work clothes were slashed open by the military knife, and a bloody mark appeared on his skin. A fierce look flashed in his eyes; he stopped dodging and lunged in, actually intending to trade injury for a kill!
Long Zhantian's pupils constricted, but he didn't back down, his military knife stabbing straight toward the opponent's heart!
It looked like a mutual destruction!
At this life-or-death moment, outside the tool shed, came the urgent shouts and clear footsteps of the "Dark Blade" members—they were already within reach!
"Ghost's" lunging motion showed a trace of extremely subtle hesitation, stemming from human survival instinct. Perhaps only 0.1 seconds.
But for Long Zhantian, it was enough.
At the last moment, his military knife deflected upward by a few degrees at an incredible angle.
"Pfft!"
The military knife pierced through "Ghost's" right shoulder blade, not his heart! At the same time, Long Zhantian's left hand gripped "Ghost's" wrist holding the triangular spike like an iron clamp, and twisted with force!
"Crack!" The sound of the wrist bone breaking was clearly audible.
The triangular spike clattered to the ground.
"Urgh—!" "Ghost" let out a suppressed cry of pain, but with his right shoulder pierced and left wrist broken, he was completely subdued.
Long Zhantian pulled out the military knife, bringing with it a trail of blood, while simultaneously delivering a heavy elbow strike to the back of "Ghost's" neck. "Ghost's" body stiffened, the light in his eyes rapidly fading as he collapsed to the ground.
"Control!" Long Zhantian panted, speaking into the communicator, his voice hoarse.
At the entrance of the tool shed, several heavily armed "Dark Blade" members rushed in, their guns locked tightly on "Ghost" on the ground, quickly moving forward to check, handcuff, and inject him with a sedative.
Long Zhantian wiped the blood mixed with dust and sweat from his face, looking at the "Ghost" being dragged up. This top-tier hunter who had brought a huge threat to Lin Mo, with his despicable and lethal methods, had finally had his fangs removed.
He looked up, through the gaps in the dilapidated shed, at the gradually brightening sky outside. The time for the press conference was almost here.
The last threat from the shadows had been cleared.