Chapter Thirteen: The Layer of Death

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Night, 10:50 p.m.

Three black armored assault vehicles, silent as specters blending into the night, came to a halt just beyond the shadow of the abandoned multi-story parking structure in Jin Hai.

The doors slid open. Twelve heavily armed National Security Special Operations agents, led by Xiao Ran, slipped inside the steel carcass of the building with the precision of a surgeon’s blade—silent, seamless, entering a giant that seemed long dead.

Inside the mobile command vehicle, Lin Feng sat at the main control console. Before him, dozens of real-time surveillance feeds relayed from micro-drones and cameras infiltrating the building’s perimeter. On the screens, twelve green dots marked the agents’ vital signs and positions, advancing in flawless tactical formation as they gradually penetrated deeper into the structure.

Everything appeared… far too normal.

“Something’s wrong,” Lin Feng muttered, switching between surveillance feeds, addressing Xiao Ran through his headset. “It’s too clean. This place feels like a slaughterhouse freshly scrubbed—there’s not even the faintest trace of blood.”

A suppressed, steady breath echoed from Xiao Ran’s headset.

“Understood. Stay alert.”

Her voice cut through the darkness, sounding in every agent’s earpiece.

The assault team had entered the building. Inside, cold concrete pillars and rusting, abandoned cars formed a jungle of steel. The beams from their tactical flashlights pierced the gloom, casting their twisted shadows across dusty, cobweb-laden wreckage—stretching into monstrous shapes, clawing at the darkness.

The air was thick with the stench of engine oil, rust, and decaying concrete.

The silence was so profound that only their own footsteps, breathing, and the faint rustle of tactical gear could be heard.

Yet the deeper the silence, the more chilling it became—a cold that seeped from bone marrow.

“First floor secure.”

“Second floor secure. Many fresh footprints—at least twenty people.”

Under Xiao Ran’s command, the team advanced methodically upstairs, searching with the caution of seasoned hunters, stepping into a killing ground meticulously prepared by an even deadlier predator.

As the vanguard reached the third floor, the lead agent suddenly halted, raising his right hand in a tactical sign to stop.

Xiao Ran crouched, following his gaze.

Beneath a thick layer of dust in the central area, a coin-sized device emitted a faint red glow—a pressure sensor.

“Trap!”

In the command vehicle, Lin Feng’s pupils contracted as he watched the magnified drone feed.

“Xiao Ran! Fall back! It’s a cage! Your electromagnetic signals haven’t leaked out since you entered—this whole building is a Faraday cage!”

His warning came too late.

The pressure sensor was not a detonator—it was the trigger to shut the doors.

As the agent lifted his foot—

A deafening series of four clangs, like the tolling of hell’s bells, erupted from every exit to the ground floor.

Heavy, blast-resistant shutters crashed down like guillotines, billowing clouds of dust and sealing off every route of escape.

Then, with a snap, every emergency light in the building, including those on their entry route, went out.

Absolute darkness, thick as a tsunami, engulfed all twelve agents.

Their tactical flashlights now became the sole source of illumination.

But they also became—the clearest targets in the enemy’s sights.

A sharp hiss of static crackled through every tactical headset.

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Intense electromagnetic interference had begun.

In an instant, all communication between Xiao Ran, Lin Feng, and the agents was severed.

They became a solitary, deaf and blind force, locked in an iron cage.

This chain of attacks unfolded in the space of a single second—precise, efficient, and lethal.

The sudden chaos seized every agent.

“Keep calm! Find cover!” Xiao Ran’s roar became the only anchor in the darkness.

Relying on muscle memory, the agents scattered, searching for the nearest concrete pillars or abandoned cars to use as cover.

And then—

A crackling sound, static and distorted.

The long-defunct broadcast system of the parking structure suddenly came alive.

After a burst of electrical noise, an elegant, amused male voice, as if hosting a grand banquet, echoed clearly throughout the blackness.

Anderson.

His voice, pre-recorded.

“Welcome, everyone, to the farewell party I’ve prepared for you.”

“As elite operatives of the Shadow Bureau, your performance is impeccable. Unfortunately… your opponent is me.”

“Now, the game begins.”

“I wish you… a delightful time.”

His words barely faded.

A faint popping sound, like a balloon bursting, broke the silence.

A muffled groan followed—a team member hiding behind a car slumped to the ground, a bleeding bullet wound centered on his forehead.

A sniper! Silenced sniper!

Every heart leapt into their throats.

“Get down!”

“Turn off your flashlights!”

Xiao Ran issued orders once more.

But it was too late.

Popping sounds echoed in the darkness—death’s roll call, relentless and silent.

Bullets rained from the fourth and fifth floors, whistling down with deadly force, sweeping over their positions.

The enemy wore night vision goggles.

In their emerald view, the agents were glowing, moving targets—human-shaped beacons.

It was a massacre in every sense.

…

“Damn it! Connect! Give me a connection!” In the command vehicle, Lin Feng’s eyes burned red, like a maddened lion. He pounded the keyboard, desperate to breach the electromagnetic interference.

But it was futile.

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On the screen, two green dots representing agents had turned blood-red.

Another blinked wildly—signaling a life at death’s door.

All Lin Feng could do was watch, helpless, as lives he barely knew faded one by one from the screen.

He, the so-called god of the network, could do nothing.

…

Parking structure, third floor.

Darkness, death, and despair enveloped everyone.

After the agony of two deaths and one critical injury, Xiao Ran and the survivors retreated behind massive concrete pillars, forming a crude circular defense.

They switched off their flashlights, merging themselves into the shadows.

The gunfire paused, but everyone knew it was only a respite. The enemy, like patient beasts savoring the hunt, crept closer through the gloom.

They could hear faint footsteps above.

And equally dense footsteps rising from below.

“Leader…” a young agent’s voice quivered, on the verge of tears, “someone’s coming up from downstairs too…”

Xiao Ran’s heart plunged into an abyss.

She finally grasped the venomous brilliance of Anderson’s plan.

This was no ambush.

It was a “death sandwich.”

The enemies above suppressed and slaughtered.

Those below encircled and… cleared out.

There was no escape upwards, no escape downwards.

They were utterly trapped.

Xiao Ran leaned against the cold pillar, gasping for breath. She could smell the thick, metallic scent of blood and the fear radiating from her comrades.

Staring into the endless darkness, the face of her old partner, twisted in pain and despair as he fell before her years ago, resurfaced once more.

Would it happen again?

Would she have to watch, helpless, as each of them died before her eyes?

Her hand began to tremble uncontrollably—not from fear, but from an overwhelming rage and utter helplessness.

She drew her sidearm, flipped off the safety. In her eyes, all terror and confusion vanished.

What remained was a deathly calm, fused with the darkness.

If they were destined to die here tonight—

Then she would take a few with her.

She and her agents steeled themselves, ready for mutual destruction.