At the same time, in the school auditorium.
Backstage, which had long since been cleared, was now in complete disarray.
Gu Qiancheng ran a hand through her hair, turned to look at Zhao Dongyuan, who was tallying up the injuries on their side, and called out, “Director Zhao, do I still have to keep acting?”
What was truly unsettling was that when Gu Qiancheng spoke, a woman’s voice came out.
Hearing this, Zhao Dongyuan looked over at Gu Qiancheng and nodded.
“Mm, Team Leader Gu should be about done on their end.”
The moment the words left his mouth—
Gu Qiancheng’s body seemed to be shrouded in a layer of mist, visibly blurring before their eyes.
Moments later, that mist which obscured the vision gradually dissipated—a tall, curvaceous woman with long hair became more and more distinct.
The woman nonchalantly brushed her hair, her eyes crinkling with a smile.
“So many Abnormalities sneaking into the city—looks like you’ve got a traitor inside Binhai, Director Zhao?”
“We’ve already sent people to catch them.”
Zhao Dongyuan put down his pen, his tone cooling slightly.
“Deputy Director of the Law Enforcement Bureau, third in command at the Municipal Department—rest assured, not a single one will get away!”
The woman arched her brow, a hint of jaded mockery in her tone.
“Heh, no wonder more and more people are calling for a return to full military control… No matter the era, there’s never a shortage of brain-dead leeches!”
Just as she finished speaking, the military radio clipped to Zhao Dongyuan’s belt let out a crisp “beep.”
Immediately after, a faint crackle of static came through, followed by a steady, powerful male voice, clear and unwavering: “Zzz… This is Song Changming, commander of the 2nd Composite Brigade, Nanwan Armed Mobile Unit, reporting a situation.”
“I am Zhao Dongyuan, Director of Security, Binhai Branch of the Swordbearers…”
Zhao Dongyuan picked up the radio, pressing the button, his voice steady as he spoke,
“Commander Lin Mo has gone to apprehend the Professor, so I am temporarily acting as interim commander. Please report.”
“Yes!”
Song Changming’s tone remained unwavering, reporting quickly, “Target No. 3, codename [Monk of Suffering] Morton, has been sighted near the No. 1 Mechanical Plant in the east of the city; Target No. 4, codename [Chaos Ether] Chielsnan, has appeared in the seafood wholesale market area in the west of the city; Target No. 5, codename [Polar Storm] Myr, is near the power plant in the north of the city.”
“All three high-threat Temporal Abnormalities are now within our firepower lock. Attack units are ready and can launch saturation strikes at any moment.”
He paused briefly, then added a key point: “Additionally, Target No. 1, Kilanbiska, and Target No. 2, Mirror Lake, have yet to appear as expected. End of report, awaiting instructions.”
The radio fell into a brief silence, awaiting a reply.
Zhao Dongyuan rubbed his finger over the raised button on the radio’s side, and in just a few seconds made a decision: “…On behalf of the combat command center, I issue the following orders: 1. Immediately launch saturation strikes on Targets 3, 4, and 5; 2. Assign several backup squads to each combat zone and set up defenses at all residential district entrances; 3. Report combat progress every five minutes. That is all.”
“Understood…”
Song Changming responded immediately.
“What about Target No. 1 and No. 2?”
Hearing this, Zhao Dongyuan’s lips curled slightly as he pressed the radio and replied, “Don’t worry, someone will deal with them.”
“Understood.”
…
On a high vantage point outside the abandoned power plant in the north of the city, Song Changming, dressed in a crisp uniform with colonel’s stars gleaming in the sunset on his shoulders, moved the radio slightly away from his ear.
His face remained calm as he accepted a high-powered binoculars from the staff officer beside him and lifted them to his eyes.
Through the lenses, the ruined street leading to the power plant was packed with Abnormalities, squirming like a tide and howling in a way that made one’s teeth ache.
At the very front, a figure stood out—a slender body, skin an eerie ice-blue and faintly translucent.
This was Myr, the infamous high-level Temporal Abnormality, and servant of [Twilight King’s Rider] Kilanbiska, notorious in Eastern Europe.
Wherever Myr passed, the air seemed to crystallize into icy shards, exuding a bone-chilling cold.
Song Changming’s gaze sharpened as he quickly scanned the distribution and movement of the Abnormality tide.
He swiftly switched the radio back to the encrypted operations channel, and his calm voice was transmitted clearly to every firepower commander at preset positions: “All combat units, this is Song Changming.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried undeniable authority.
“All firepower units, follow the assigned coordinates and target distribution. Await my unified order—”
He took a deep breath, watching through the binoculars as those twisted figures entered optimal kill range.
His countdown was like the drumbeats of war: “Three—”
“Two—”
“One—”
“…Open fire!!”
The final two words were almost a low roar.
The instant the order was given—
“Whoosh—BOOM!!!”
“Thud thud thud thud—!”
“iHONGHONGiHONG! …”
It was as if a symphony of destruction suddenly erupted.
From hidden rooftops, preset artillery positions, and mobile rocket launchers, countless shells, rockets, and even precious short-range missiles, all trailing flames, wove a sky-darkening net of firepower and rained down upon the Abnormality tide.
At the front, Myr instantly raised his head, a trace of surprise appearing in his dim gray eyes.
In a flash, countless ice crystals erupted from the ground to cover him.
“Enemy—attack—!”
Behind Myr, a high-level Temporal Abnormality had just uttered a shrill warning before the explosions’ flames engulfed the street, invisible shockwaves taking on the shape of dust and stones, flinging mangled limbs in all directions.
Saturation firepower struck, displaying the violent beauty of steel and flame to its fullest.
Song Changming lowered his binoculars, gazing expressionlessly at the area below, now turned into a sea of fire.
Suddenly, he felt a hint of awe toward that young Swordbearer branch chief.
No wonder he’s a Swordbearer—no wonder he can be a branch chief.
He predicted today’s trouble—right.
He predicted the Abnormalities’ invasion route and attack targets—right again.
And just now, Zhao Dongyuan had said someone would deal with Target No. 1 and No. 2—which meant, even their absence at the outset had been foreseen by that guy.
Damn, that guy’s brain is too sharp.
So sharp he doesn’t even seem human!
…
…
Central Avenue, in front of the Municipal Department building.
A cast-iron manhole cover at the roadside let out a heavy bang, shot up, and clattered to the side.
Immediately after, a rather bedraggled figure scrambled out of the shadowy sewer entrance on all fours, dragging with him an indescribably acrid, rotten stench.
Mirror Lake stood upright, instinctively sniffing at his own clothes, and his face twisted in undisguised disgust.
Grumbling, he dug out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and took a deep drag, trying to use the tobacco to drive off that lingering stench before finally shuffling forward toward the main gates of the Municipal Department compound.
Yet, just as he stepped out—
“Bang!!!”
The concrete pavement nearby suddenly exploded, debris and dust shooting up like a fountain as a more violent aura erupted forth.
Mirror Lake instinctively hunched his shoulders and looked back.
Through the haze, a taller, burlier figure leapt up from the broken pit in the road and landed steadily.
Like a living creature, black fluid armor writhed, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen.
Beneath the armor, countless tight, vein-like crimson patterns throbbed and pulsed, radiating a suffocating sense of oppression.
“You picked quite a path.”
Kilanbiska’s head, wrapped in fluid armor, turned toward Mirror Lake, his crimson eyes flashing with displeasure and ferocity.
“Filthy. Cramped.”
He didn’t even wait for a response, his gaze drawn instantly like a magnet to the massive, complex signal array atop the Municipal Department building, its surface glinting coldly in the sun.
“Destroy that thing,” Kilanbiska’s voice was low and brimming with destructive intent, like metal scraping metal.
“Then we can sever all this city’s contact with the outside, can’t we?”
Mirror Lake flicked away his half-finished cigarette, crushing it under his toe, and nodded, “…Third-generation, full-spectrum communication transceiver module. Destroy it, and Binhai becomes an isolated information island—no help from above, no answer from below.”
Kilanbiska let out a deep, guttural growl.
He opened his armored palm, and the black fluid instantly writhed and grew, in the blink of an eye forming a gigantic, savage greatsword with dark red energy pulsing along its edges.
“Let’s go.”
“I can’t wait to hear the wails of this helpless, isolated city.”
Kilanbiska slung the greatsword over his shoulder, taking heavy steps toward the wide-open gate of the Municipal Department compound, voice brimming with impatient cruelty.
With that, he no longer paid Mirror Lake any attention, marching in on his own.
Mirror Lake watched his back, curling his lips silently, but still quickly followed.
Inside the compound, it was eerily empty—so quiet it was unsettling.
Even the official cars usually parked there were almost all gone, as if the place had already been cleared.
But just as Kilanbiska and Mirror Lake entered the center of the yard, still twenty or thirty meters from the main building, they stopped in unison, as if by prior agreement.
Their gazes locked onto the wide stairs before the main building, focused on a single man lounging at the very top step.
He wore a Swordbearer uniform that looked like it hadn’t been properly ironed in ages; his buttons weren’t even all done up, revealing a gray undershirt beneath.
A rusty, broken sword lay casually on the step beside him.
His half-long, messy hair and thick beard almost covered most of his face, making it hard to tell his features or even his age.
He was tilted back slightly, as if looking at the sky, or perhaps just napping.
Only when Kilanbiska and Mirror Lake’s eyes fell on him did he seem to notice, stretching languidly and yawning, then lowering his head.
Through the tangle of hair, he peered at the two uninvited guests in the yard, speaking with a heavily accented, lazy drawl: “I’ve been waiting half the day. Why are you only just getting here?”
Such an ordinary line, yet the atmosphere froze instantly.
Kilanbiska rested his greatsword on his shoulder, crimson eyes fixed on the man atop the stairs, not reacting at once, but the writhing speed of his fluid armor seemed to quicken.
Standing slightly behind him, Mirror Lake, upon seeing the figure on the steps—and especially upon hearing that unique accent and tone—his pupils shrank abruptly.
Almost instinctively and without a sound, he took a half-step further back, his body tensing, now showing even greater caution, even a trace of dread, compared to when he’d faced Kilanbiska.
The scruffy man on the steps seemed to notice Mirror Lake’s little movement.
The eyes hidden behind his messy hair narrowed, gaze passing right over the menacing Kilanbiska to land directly on Mirror Lake, who was trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, and he chuckled, “Yo hey, isn’t this little Mirror Lake? Heard you caused quite a stir while I was gone?”
As he spoke, he slowly reached out and gripped the hilt of the rusty broken sword by his side.
Then, as if it took great effort, he wobbled to his feet.
He raised the hand gripping the sword, the tip lazily pointing toward Kilanbiska in the center of the yard, and the on-guard Mirror Lake behind him.
Another yawn overcame him.
Rubbing his eyes, he spoke with some impatience, “I’m on a schedule. Little Mirror Lake, don’t dawdle, you two…”
“Come at me together.”
Hearing this, Mirror Lake remained tense and wary, muscles taut, eyes locked onto the disheveled man on the steps, not daring to relax in the slightest.
Kilanbiska, on the other hand, slowly turned his fluid-armored head toward the obviously shaken Mirror Lake at his side, crimson eyes flashing with offended displeasure and some real confusion.
His voice rasped like gravel, with the scrutiny of a high-level Temporal Abnormality facing an unknown threat: “Who is he?”
Mirror Lake’s Adam’s apple bobbed, lips tight and paling slightly.
The strange green light in his eyes grew, slit pupils appearing as he lowered his voice, squeezing the answer through clenched teeth, every word steeped in icy dread: “The Death Star from North Bureau Headquarters…”
“An S-class Oracle [Sever] Awakened, recognized even within the Swordbearers as…the strongest in history—”
He paused, as if the title itself was absurd and terrifying, but finally gritted his teeth and uttered it: “—Trainee!”
When he spoke the last two syllables, his voice twisted strangely, as if the gap between the title and the strength behind it was itself a cruel joke.
With that, he slowly raised his gaze again, those slit green pupils locked on the still-yawning, half-asleep scruffy man atop the stairs.
Word by word, full of doubt and accusation: “Wu! Yang!”
“What are you doing here?! Why did that old codger Qin Xiangnan let a monster like you out?!”
The unkempt man called Wu Yang picked at his ear, seeming not to mind the “monster” label at all, as if it was just background noise.
Still in that lazy posture, he scratched his messy hair with the rusty short sword, voice tinged with irritation at having his nap interrupted.
“Don’t shout, what’s the fuss? You bunch of sewer rats are allowed to dig holes everywhere, but I can’t take a walk?”
“Always with the trainee, trainee… What about being a trainee, huh?!”
“It’s enough to drive me mad.”
“Come on, let me take a swing at you first!”