Late at night, at a newsstand.
A drizzling rain fell outside. Wearing his reading glasses, Old Wang opened the window, happily sipped Erguotou, and read the Master of Terror magazine in his hands with great relish. The novel had reached the crucial moment when the detective was about to expose the real culprit.
Without warning, a violent blast of air, impossible to describe, surged in from afar and savagely slammed against the newsstand's glass, making every pane rattle and clatter.
"Is this place haunted?" Old Wang's heart had already been hanging on the magazine's suspense, and the sudden commotion made his hand jerk.
The next instant.
A yellow flash screamed past, vanishing from before his eyes in an instant.
He saw nothing clearly.
But the magazine slipped from Old Wang's hand. With a rustle, it was swept straight out by a hurricane blasting in through the window!
The magazine flew wildly through the air, its pages flipping frantically as it spun away with the wind into the depths of the pitch-black rainy night.
"Sweet mother of mine! What the hell was that? What the hell was that?!"
Old Wang hurriedly cleaned up the spilled Erguotou on the table. The pungent smell of alcohol snapped him awake. Still shaken, he poked his head out through the newsstand window and stared blankly at the exhaust that had vanished completely into the rainy night in the distance.
The faint tire marks on the ground finally made Old Wang realize what had just passed by—
"What the hell was that—"
Old Wang muttered, "Planes can drive on the ground now?"
Three kilometers away.
Near the entrance to an elevated highway.
There was a temporary checkpoint here. Six black-and-white traffic control motorcycles stood parked by the roadside in a neat, imposing row.
Several fully equipped