Chapter Eleven: Invitation from Hell
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Huaxin Technologies, third basement level—underground parking garage.
When Li Mo, whose face had always worn a simple, honest smile, twisted utterly in despair beneath the cold glare of the floodlights, the taut nerves of the “Dark Bureau” task force—stretched thin for weeks—finally, briefly, relaxed.
The mole had been caught.
A suppressed, relieved cheer rippled through the command center.
Yet, amid the faint clamor of this background noise, Xiao Ran did not immediately savor this long-overdue victory.
In front of everyone, she slowly walked to the main screen at the heart of the command center. She connected to the quantum-encrypted line—silent for so long—linking them to the “Singularity Security” lab.
In an instant, Lin Feng’s holographic projection appeared in the corner of the office. His expression was as ever—languid, detached, as if nothing in the world could rouse his concern. It was as though the “mouse-trap spectacle” he had orchestrated just now had nothing to do with him.
Xiao Ran looked at him. Then, she did something that left everyone present stunned.
She transmitted a super-encrypted packet she had long prepared, rated “Dragon Scale”—the highest level of secrecy.
“What’s this…” Lin Feng’s hologram eyed the golden data packet, emblem of “Top Secret.” For the first time, a flicker of genuine emotion flashed in those eyes that always burned with fire.
“This is what I promised you.”
Xiao Ran’s voice was soft, yet carried weight. For the first time, her gaze was stripped of its usual chill and suspicion, replaced by something far more complex—a mixture of apology, respect, and a kind of solemnity.
“This is the complete, original data logs of Elder Lu’s ‘Zeroing’ operation.”
“The password…” She paused, her tone gentler still. “...is the anniversary of his death.”
The command center fell utterly silent. Everyone watched, hardly daring to breathe.
They knew this was not simply a transfer of intelligence.
This was Chief Xiao Ran, in her own way, offering a silent apology to the “outsider” whom they had all once misunderstood.
Lin Feng’s hologram stared at the golden data packet he had yearned for over five years, sinking into a long, long silence.
His hand—a construct of pure data—lifted slowly, then hovered mid-air. He did not click “receive” right away.
Instead, he slowly lifted his gaze. Those eyes, so often brimming with scorn and mockery, for once swept seriously over the faces of the “elites” before the screen—faces that had once flayed him with suspicion and now brimmed with shame.
Then, looking at Xiao Ran, he spoke at last.
“I’ll accept this.”
“But before I look at it, I have one condition.”
Xiao Ran nodded, “Name it.”
“I want an apology.”
At these words, everyone present felt their hearts clench.
But Lin Feng’s next words gripped their hearts with an invisible fist.
“Not for me.”
He looked at Xiao Ran, and it seemed, at everyone behind her, enunciating each word:
“For everyone who has ever been insulted by your damned bureaucratic, suspicious ‘rules’…”
“For everyone who ever truly wanted to do something for this country.”
This—this was “Zhurong.” This was the defiant madman who dared declare war on the world.
He had never cared for personal grudges.
He sought justice.
The command center became deathly still.
Old K, the first to have ever doubted Lin Feng, lowered his head in shame.
Zhao Yi, deputy leader of the action team, clenched his fists in silence.
And Xiao Ran, looking at the man who—with a heart still childlike—continued to crash madly against the world’s coldest injustices, slowly closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the struggle and hesitation in her gaze had vanished, replaced by a clarity and calm like never before.
She bowed deeply—ninety degrees—to Lin Feng’s hologram and to all her subordinates.
“I’m sorry.”
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Her voice was not loud, yet it thundered through every heart present.
“I apologize for our previous stupidity and prejudice.”
She straightened, and in her beautiful eyes shone the light of growth.
“I promise.”
“From now on, in the ‘Dark Bureau’…”
“There will never be a second time.”
The knot within the team was finally, utterly, undone.
Lin Feng’s hologram regarded the woman who seemed, in a moment, to have grown far stronger. He stared for a long while.
At last, he merely smiled wryly at himself, then reached out and clicked “Receive.”
Yet, just as the team found this moment of reconciliation, a panicked voice shattered the calm.
It was an urgent report from the interrogation room!
“Ch-Chief! Li Mo… Li Mo has confessed!”
“But… but something’s wrong!”
Xiao Ran’s face changed instantly. She and everyone in the command center rushed to the interrogation surveillance room.
On the screen, Li Mo sprawled in his chair like a heap of mud, spilling all of Anderson’s next moves.
“...He said… he said if I was caught, I should give you this address… said it’s our last transaction site…”
Deputy team leader Zhao Yi handed Xiao Ran a slip of paper found on Li Mo.
[West City, Jinhai Abandoned Multi-Level Parking Garage. Tomorrow night at eleven. The last wager.]
This was Anderson, flinging a gauntlet in their faces after losing a piece—a challenge letter.
A summons to hell.
In the corner of the command center, a young agent wounded in the dockside operation was having his arm bandaged by medics. The gauze, stained through with blood, was changed out again and again. That shocking red, like a silent backdrop, was a constant reminder of just how ruthless a foe they faced.
“We can’t go! It’s a trap, a hundred percent!”
The silence was finally broken by the technical lead, Old K, whose voice was quivering with anger. He slammed the table, making it shake.
“We just lost brothers at the docks! Li Mo’s value is tapped out! Anderson throws us this address, certain we’ll walk right into his trap like fools! This is humiliation—utter, naked humiliation! We can’t keep gambling with our brothers’ lives on a setup we know is a trap!”
His words echoed the sentiments of most present.
“I agree with Old K!” the deputy team leader—the man who’d saved Li Mo at the docks—added promptly, blood still caked on his uniform.
“We’ve caught Li Mo, have direct evidence of his dealings, and have Anderson in our sights. Our interim objective is complete! The rational move is to pull back, regroup, reevaluate! Not charge blindly into a death trap!”
“Yes! We can’t go!”
“The risk is too high!”
At once, agreement echoed through the room.
Morale, battered by the bloody battle and Anderson’s arrogance, had hit rock bottom.
Xiao Ran stood in silence by the main screen. She stared at the address, and for the first time, uncertainty clouded her always-icy eyes.
Her hand unconsciously caressed the faint pink scar on her wrist.
To go, or not to go?
Logic, like everyone’s, told her to withdraw. Preserve their strength, regroup—this was the safest, most “correct” choice.
But her instincts—the beastlike intuition of a “sharpshooter” slumbering deep within—roared at her: Go!
This was when he was most confident, and most likely to slip.
Miss this, and the chance would never come again!
As she struggled inwardly, Lin Feng’s encrypted communication window lit up on the main screen.
Lin Feng’s hologram appeared instantly in the center of the room.
He still sat in his chaotic studio, but this time, he wasn’t eating instant noodles or gaming. He simply listened, quietly, to all the arguments.
Then he laughed—a laugh full of scorn and disdain.
“Done arguing?” His voice was quiet, yet pierced every “elite” ear like an ice pick.
“Done? Ready to go home, hug your wives and kids, and be grateful you survived another day?”
“Lin Feng! You—” Old K’s face flushed with rage at his mocking tone.
Lin Feng ignored him. His eyes, ablaze, fixed on Xiao Ran through the projection.
“They’ve sent you the invitation right to your face, and you self-proclaimed ‘patriots’ don’t even have the guts for a cup of tea?”
“A half-finished parking garage, and it scares the country’s top security bureau like this?”
“If word gets out, Anderson will laugh for a year.”
Each word was a slap across their faces.
“What do you know, you keyboard warrior madman!” the deputy team leader bellowed, pointing at Lin Feng’s projection. “Do you know how much risk frontline action carries? That our brothers bleed and die?”
“Of course I do.”
Lin Feng’s reply was unexpectedly calm.
He slowly lifted his phone, turning the screen to the camera.
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Displayed was a photo—a war medal, half-melted and burned by arc fire, barely recognizable.
“I know better than any of you what sacrifice tastes like.”
His voice was soft, yet carried a sorrow so heavy it froze the whole room.
The office fell utterly silent. All present were shaken by the pain in his eyes.
Xiao Ran stared at him and at the medal—she knew it had belonged to Old Lu.
At last, she understood the source of this man’s madness and obsession.
It wasn’t that he didn’t fear death.
He had already “died” once.
Lin Feng lowered his phone, refocusing on Xiao Ran.
No more mockery, no more goading. He simply, calmly, posed the ultimate question.
“Xiao Ran, tell me—what are you truly afraid of? Is it really the trap?”
“No.”
“What you fear is Anderson.”
“What you fear is failing again.”
“You fear watching another comrade fall while you are powerless to help.”
That sentence was a key, unlocking the deepest fears in everyone present—including Xiao Ran herself.
Yes.
It wasn’t the enemy they feared.
It was losing, once again, to that devilish opponent.
They feared repeating the past.
Xiao Ran’s breath quickened. She looked at the address on the screen, memory flashing to that moment years ago when she’d faced a similar “either-or” choice and failed.
Retreat meant safety.
Advance meant a bottomless abyss.
Then, she had chosen wrong.
What about today?
All eyes turned to her.
She was the commander here.
She had to decide.
Slowly, Xiao Ran closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, all confusion and fear had vanished, replaced by a desperate, all-or-nothing determination.
“He’s right.”
Her voice was quiet but unwavering, every word clear to all.
“We’re not afraid of the trap—we’re afraid of Anderson.”
“If we retreat today out of fear, we’ve already lost this war.”
She slammed the table and stood, her aura—sharp as a master agent’s—erupting like thunder.
“It’s a trap, yes! But it’s also our only chance to break through!”
“He wants to see us humiliated? Then let’s go—let’s tear down his stage!”
She looked at her reinvigorated team and issued the final order.
“I declare—Operation Codename—”
She paused, glancing at Lin Feng’s hologram.
“—[Banquet]!”
“All members—prepare for battle!”
“Boom—!”
The suppressed fighting spirit of the team was ignited in that instant.
“Yes!”
A unified roar thundered through the command center.
Their shattered morale, rebuilt by Xiao Ran’s words, held firm again.
Lin Feng watched the woman who now commanded like a queen, the hint of an appreciative smile curving his lips—one he himself barely noticed.
He knew this woman was his kind.
Both were hopeless madmen.
And this feast they would host together—a banquet leading straight to hell—was about to begin.