There were still five minutes before Min Zimo's team broke through.
The once-bustling Huanmao Center was now deserted, with not a single person in sight.
The lower-ranked investigators who had not been selected for the second rescue operation had surrounded the entire building so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through.
The entrances in particular were guarded at every five steps and watched at every ten. Every official martial artist wore a chillingly murderous expression.
But there were always people who stood out like a sore thumb.
At that moment, a line of luxury cars was parked in the plaza before Huanmao Center's main entrance.
A great crowd of more than a dozen young men had gathered in front of them.
At their head stood a man sporting a freshly permed and dyed red mohawk.
He wore a flashy pink floral shirt, paired with bright-yellow oversized shorts patterned with dragons.
Yet on his feet were a pair of pitch-black qilin-headed battle boots that clashed completely with his style.
Who else could it be but Zeng Yi?
The group of people his age beside him dressed just as bizarrely.
A frail, refined-looking man in a suit and glasses carried an Azure Dragon Crescent Blade taller than he was.
The patterns on the blade were ancient and elegant, while brilliant light flowed across it. One glance was enough to tell that it was no ordinary weapon.
A sunny, broad-shouldered young man in casual clothes had donned imposing Golden Battle Armor over his high-end T-shirt.
Though the armor's style was somewhat outdated, it faintly radiated the heavy aura of earth-element energy, as weighty and still as a mountain.
Another person was dressed perfectly normally, yet carried a small bronze cauldron that he had apparently swiped from some museum. Its