Chapter Thirty-Three: The Great Cleansing of the Firmament

At dawn, as the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds and illuminated the surface of the Huangpu River, an invisible war without smoke or gunfire had already begun.

In the command center of the Shadow Bureau, Xiao Ran had not slept all night. Yet her face showed no trace of fatigue, only the calm and focus of a leopard poised for a deadly strike. She stood before the enormous operations whiteboard, where, in the center, a large, oppressive number was scrawled in red marker:

[Mission Countdown: 48:00:00]

“We have only forty-eight hours,” her voice sounded steadily in the quiet command center. “In these forty-eight hours, there are three things we must accomplish simultaneously.”

“First,” she pointed at the sizable logo of Sky Vault Network on the board, “we must render this rabid dog completely toothless and extract even more intelligence on Anderson from its jaws.”

“Second,” her finger slid over to the sleek quantum watermark analysis chart for ‘Storm at Sea,’ filled with futuristic flair. “We need to dig even deeper to uncover the method used to replicate this ‘forgery’.”

“Third,” her hand finally fell on the intricate 3D model of the auction site’s terrain. “We must formulate the detailed plan for Project Frame—the final, second-by-second execution blueprint.”

Turning around, she regarded her team—like her, sleepless, but with eyes ablaze with fighting spirit.

“We begin with the first task.”

Her gaze locked onto Lao K, the head of the technology group.

“Lao K.”

“Here, Chief!”

“Is our ‘gift’ ready?”

“Reporting, Chief!” A sly, fox-like smile curled Lao K’s lips. “It’s all packed up and ready to ‘ship’ anytime!”

“Excellent.” A cold arc tugged at the corner of Xiao Ran’s mouth. “Send it out. I want to see Sky Vault Network topple from their altar before the stock market closes today.”

…

At nine thirty in the morning, an unprecedented financial storm struck without warning.

Scene one: Securities Regulatory Commission, Inspection Division.

Over a dozen inspectors in blue uniforms stared at their computer screens, shocked by the whistleblower materials sent from an untraceable anonymous email, routed tens of thousands of times through Lin Feng’s “onion” network.

The commander, an imposing middle-aged man, slammed his palm onto the desk.

“Pass down the order! Initiate the highest-level audit immediately! Target: Sky Vault Network headquarters! I don’t want them to have a chance to delete a single punctuation mark!”

Scene two: Sky Vault Network headquarters, CEO’s office.

Li Jianguo lounged like an emperor in his million-yuan executive chair, puffing leisurely on a premium Cuban cigar, still fantasizing about becoming the new godfather of the Chinese internet once Anderson’s plan succeeded.

Suddenly, with a bang, the office’s solid wood door crashed open from the outside! His usually meek secretary burst in, panic-stricken, forgetting even to knock.

“Mr… Mr. Li! Something… something terrible has happened!” Her voice trembled violently with fear. “The… the regulators… the entire building has been sealed off by the Securities Commission!”

The expensive cigar slipped from Li Jianguo’s mouth, landing on the Persian carpet, sending up white smoke and the acrid stench of burning plastic.

Scene three: Shanghai Stock Exchange.

On the massive electronic board, the beacon of every investor’s faith, the Sky Vault Network stock crashed the instant news of the investigation broke—plunging vertically into the abyss like a headless fly.

Thick green lines, symbols of panicked selling, carved harrowing death marks into the chart. In that moment, countless investors lost everything—the wailing was endless.

…

Sky Vault Headquarters, CEO’s office.

No longer a palace, but a doomsday battlefield in utter chaos.

Li Jianguo, like a fattened pig trapped in a cage before slaughter, frantically made call after call.

“Hello? Mr. Anderson? It’s me! Something’s happened!” His voice dripped with obsequious terror.

But only a cold, emotionless automated message replied: “Sorry, the number you dialed does not exist.”

He had been abandoned—cast aside like a dirty, used rag.

The moment he realized he was a pawn to be discarded, the fear and sycophancy vanished from Li Jianguo’s face, replaced by a gambler’s utter, apocalyptic madness after losing everything.

He began a ruthless, scorched-earth purge, desperate to buy himself a final escape.

In his panic, Li Jianguo dialed his most trusted hacker’s number.

“Da Jun! Listen! I don’t care how you do it! Within thirty minutes—physically destroy every shred of data on all servers connected to ‘Orion Capital’! Not a trace left!”

Next, he called his most loyal chief of security.

“A Biao! Take two men right now and ‘deal with’ Deputy Wang from Finance and Engineer Liu from Tech! They know far too much! Make it look like an accident—be clean!”

Lastly, he logged into an encrypted Swiss banking site, transferring all his meticulously laundered assets to a prearranged anonymous offshore account.

He was paving a golden road for himself—straight to hell.

…

Back at the Shadow Bureau command center.

On the main screen, every desperate, frenzied move of Li Jianguo was displayed with the clarity of a live broadcast.

“Look at him panic,” Lin Feng’s holographic projection lounged with a bucket of popcorn, as if watching a gripping B-grade splatter film. “Panic breeds mistakes. And mistakes… make people spill secrets.”

He tapped lightly on the virtual keyboard. One by one, lines of data—tangible fruits of victory—flashed across the screen.

“The internal Sky Vault server he’s using to destroy data, IP 35.185.144.27—I’ve mirrored everything. What’s in there is even juicier than what Wang Zhe gave us.”

“The encrypted Swiss account he’s using to move assets—I’ve packaged that together with the property deed for the villa his wife bought in Hawaii and sent it all to the Swiss financial authorities. I think they’ll be very interested.”

“And…” A devilish smile crept onto Lin Feng’s face. “I’ve also sent the real-time GPS location of his loyal bodyguard A Biao’s phone to your field team’s deputy. Just in case.”

He snapped his fingers at Xiao Ran’s icy visage in the projection. “You’re welcome.”

…

Xiao Ran watched as one deadly new lead after another was exposed—each a result of Li Jianguo’s frantic unraveling. A hunter’s cold smile played on her lips, as if savoring the prey’s final struggle.

She slowly picked up the encrypted communicator and connected to the field team deputy, Zhao Yi.

“Zhao Yi.”

“Here, Chief!”

“No need to worry about that mad dog, Li Jianguo, any longer,” her voice devoid of emotion.

“Take your men to this address. Before Anderson’s ‘cleaners’ reach those insiders…”

“…bring them back—quietly.”

“Remember.”

“They must be alive.”