Looking at the shadow chief’s solemn expression, I didn’t need a word of explanation to grasp the situation. I leaned back slightly against the tactical counter, resting my hands on the polished steel frame. "Let me guess," I said, a faint, cold smile touching my lips. "Did Karon Smith place a massive bounty on my head?"
The shadow chief blinked, a flicker of surprise passing through his dark eyes. "Yes, sir... How did you know?"
"It’s simple," I replied, tossing a spent cartridge into a nearby bin with a light metallic clink. "After the stern warning he received from the Smith elder council, Karon knows he can’t launch a direct, open strike against me without risking his position. He has to rely on underhanded, covert tactics to destroy me from the shadows. So tell me, what is his exact play? Once we know what he’s planning, we can set up a clean counter-strike."
"Sir, Karon Smith has issued a direct command to activate all sleeper cells embedded within Metro City," the shadow chief reported, his voice crisp and grave. "He wants them to strike from the dark and bring you to River City alive."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Do our shadow operatives know the exact locations of these sleeper cells?"
"Yes, sir. Every single one of them has been tagged and tracked by our intelligence network."
"Then letting them prepare an ambush when we already hold their positions would be sheer foolishness," I said firmly, my voice turning ice-cold. "Take a hundred shadow soldiers and divide them into strike teams. Do not just target the active ones—wipe out every single Smith clan sleeper cell across Metro City, active or inactive. Clean them out entirely. But if you find any high-ranking operatives who hold direct channels of information to Karon Smith, bring them back here alive."
The shadow chief stood at rigid attention, bowing his head. "Understood, sir. It will be done quietly."
Within minutes, silent, blacked-out tactical vans glided through the streets of Metro City. Divided into precise units, the shadow soldiers moved on their targets with terrifying speed and total stealth.
At the first target location—a quiet, middle-class apartment complex near the city center—the shadow chief stepped up to the front door of a top-floor flat. He raised his hand and knocked with three deliberate, rhythmic taps.
From inside, a cautious voice called out, "Who is it?"
"Sir, you have an urgent parcel delivery that requires a signature," the chief replied smoothly, his tone completely natural.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open just a crack. Before the sleeper agent inside could even glance at the visitor’s face, the shadow chief’s hand shot forward like a steel trap, grabbing the man’s throat and twisting with a sharp, swift movement—CRACK!
Without a sound, the body went limp. The shadow soldiers glided into the apartment like ghosts, drawing silent combat blades. Within forty seconds, all five sleeper agents hiding inside the apartment were dispatched silently, ensuring no gunshot echoes alerted the neighbors in the hall.
One by one, the shadow strike teams swept through safe houses, underground dens, and residential apartments across the city. They neutralized every cell with absolute, ruthless efficiency. Out of dozens of operatives, only two were spared—the regional coordinators who possessed direct contact cards for General Rey himself.
After knocking both coordinators unconscious, the shadow soldiers loaded them into a secure transport and brought them straight back to the private underground testing facility.
Back inside the vast subterranean range, the heavy thrum of tactical training filled the air. Holding two custom sidearms, I moved fluidly between multiple pop-up targets operating at varying speeds and distances.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Spent brass shells rained onto the concrete floor with a steady, metallic rhythm. Every single round tore directly through the center of the moving targets.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed from the far entrance corridor. Without missing a beat or even turning around completely, I pivoted on my heel, drawing a combat knife from my tactical belt in one fluid motion. Pushing off the edge of a heavy wooden shooting bench, I launched myself through the air, flipping over a dummy target, and landed lightly in front of the advancing shadows.
Tossing the blade into the air with my right hand, I caught the handle cleanly with my left, tapping the blunt edge of the pommel precisely against the lead shadow soldier’s shoulder guard to test my balance and speed.
Just as I settled my stance, the shadow chief stepped into the bright halogen lights, flanked by his men who were hauling two bound, gagged hostages.
"Sir, the strike was completely successful," the chief reported, gesturing to the two men dropped onto their knees before me. "These two are the regional coordinators for the Smith clan’s local networks. They hold the personal contact channels to General Rey."
"Ah, the two prize catches," I remarked, sheathing my blade. "Bring me a chair."
A soldier immediately pulled up a heavy metal chair. I sat down smoothly, resting my forearms on my knees as I stared at the two bound men. Drawing a small, razor-sharp utility knife, I leaned forward, driving the tip lightly into the wooden floorboard right between the first hostage’s boots.
THUMP!
The first hostage flinched violently, his eyes wild with fear.
"Tell me everything you know about Karon Smith’s hidden assets, his illegal operations, and any evidence you hold against him," I said softly, my voice carrying a quiet, terrifying weight.
The first hostage shook his head frantically behind his heavy mouth tape, his eyes glaring with stubborn defiance as he grunted through the cloth, refusing to speak.
I turned my head slightly. "Chief, make sure his eyes stay wide open so he doesn’t miss a single second of what happens next."
"Yes, sir," the chief replied, stepping forward to hold the man’s head firmly in place.
I stood up and walked calmly over to the second hostage. Without a word, I reached out, grabbed his hand, and made a swift, clean slice through the joint of his pinky finger.
SNAP-SLICE!
Muffled, blood-curdling screams echoed behind the thick tape covering the second hostage’s mouth as he thrashed against his restraints, tears bursting from his eyes.
I leaned down, staring right into his tear-filled face. "Are you going to talk, or do you want to keep playing the quiet game too?"
The second hostage nodded frantically, his entire body trembling violently. I reached down and ripped the adhesive tape from his face in one rough tug.
"I-I’ll speak! I’ll tell you everything!" he sobbed, gasping for air. "Patriarch Smith runs dozens of illegal operations across River City and Metro City! But River City is strictly kept clean for high-stakes casinos, money laundering, and draining wealth from high society—because running raw criminal rackets there risks offending the great Kensington family, and no one wants to cross them! So all his dirty corporate takeovers, illegal extortion cells, and black-market hubs are set up either abroad or right here in Metro City!"
I listened intently, tapping the handle of the knife. "Where are the exact addresses for these Metro City hubs, and where does he store the hard evidence?"
The second hostage shook his head in sheer panic, sweat dripping from his chin. "I-I don’t hold the master files! I only handle local logistics! He knows!" He pointed a shaking finger toward the first hostage. "He is the chief record keeper for the regional network! Only he has the master access codes!"
I looked down at the second hostage, my expression turning utterly cold. "Then you’re of no further use to me."
Turning to the shadow soldier standing to my left, I gave a quiet order: "Take him away and break him down completely. Ensure he pays for every dirty deed he’s committed under the Smith name."
"Right away, sir," the soldier growled, dragging the wailing second hostage down the dark corridor.
I turned back to the first hostage, whose face had gone completely pale as he watched his colleague get dragged away. I walked over slowly, the soft thud of my boots sounding like a death toll in the quiet room.
"Now," I said, leaning in until I was staring right into his terrified eyes. "You heard what happens to useless people. If you keep your mouth shut, I won’t kill you—I’ll just turn you into our permanent live subject for interrogation practice. You will experience that exact level of pain every single day for the rest of your life, and my men will make sure you never pass out or die."
The first hostage broke down completely, his chest heaving as tears stream down his face. "No! Stay away from me! Don’t touch me! I’ll give you everything! I have the master drive with all the financial records, the illegal racket addresses, and the black-market tax documents! Just promise you won’t torture me! Promise you’ll let me live!"
I smiled faintly, stepping back. "As long as every piece of evidence is genuine and complete, I won’t lay a single finger on you."
Terrified to his core, the first hostage babbled out every single piece of classified information, including the exact locations of ten hidden illegal racket hubs operating right inside Metro City, as well as the master encryption key to Karon Smith’s local offshore accounts.
Once he finished, I turned to the shadow chief. "Send a dedicated team to retrieve those master files immediately. But as for those ten illegal racket hubs... do not destroy them yet."
The shadow chief raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"
"Deploy fifty soldiers, divided into ten five-man surveillance teams," I instructed coolly. "Station one team at each of the ten hubs. Track every person entering and leaving, gather additional recording evidence, and map out their entire network. If any team requires reinforcements, let them call for back-up immediately without hesitation."
"Understood, sir," the shadow chief bowed. He immediately pulled out his tactical communicator, dispatching ten operatives to secure the evidence drive and assigning fifty elite shadow soldiers to lock down surveillance on all ten illegal hubs.
With the orders issued, I glanced down at my clothes and hands, noticing a few small spots of blood splatter from the earlier combat exercise and interrogation. I frowned slightly.
"Chief, is there a proper bathroom facility here where I can clean up before heading back to the villa?" I asked. "If Clara, Sera, Belle, or Sophia see blood on my clothes, they’ll worry themselves sick. And if little Daisy sees it, it’s terrible for a child."
The shadow chief smiled respectfully. "Sir, there is a fully furnished private residence attached to the upper level of this complex. I knew that emergency situations can arise at any moment for someone of your status, so I took the liberty of stocking the master dressing room with five to ten complete sets of luxury tailored suits, casual wear, shoes, and sapphire timepieces. I’ve even had the kitchen stocked with fresh groceries and essentials."
I looked at him with genuine appreciation. "Excellent thinking, Chief. That’s top-tier work."
Walking up the private staircase into the residential quarters, I found a sleek, modern master suite. Entering the spacious bathroom, I turned on the hot shower, letting the steaming water wash away the exhaustion of the day. Using a specially formulated tactical soap designed to completely break down organic blood stains and eliminate any metallic odor, I scrubbed my skin until it was completely clean.
An hour later, I stepped out of the dressing room fully refreshed, wearing a pristine, tailored dark-blue casual outfit paired with a fresh luxury watch.
Walking back down to the firing bay, I looked at the shadow chief. "Dispose of all the bloodied garments and clean up this facility completely. Ensure not a single trace or whisper of today’s events ever reaches the outside world."
"Rest assured, sir," the shadow chief bowed deeply. "Everything will be erased cleanly."