"Tie him up. Don't kill him. Our task from here on is simply to guard this place."
Inside a dark factory building, several people in black clothes that concealed their racial features carried the unconscious Mozzie over and firmly tied him to a steel pillar.
"Is this really okay? I don't know... There are even a lot of innocent people there."
"Do what you're supposed to do."
One of the black-clad figures spoke in a doubtful tone, but before he could truly begin questioning himself, another black-clad figure who appeared to be the leader harshly interrupted him.
"The signal hasn't moved since it reached here, Commander. I suggest we don't act rashly. They may be few in number, but they're all quite capable fighters."
Glaz led Zhuang Xiaolin and the others to an abandoned industrial complex.
"Isn't this what you people specialize in? Get him out, and we'll handle the rest. You'll need some cover, right? Take as much as you need."
Beneath Zhuang Xiaolin's calm expression lay endless fury. He hated it when others used lives to threaten him—especially the lives of his friends and family. Anyone would be enraged by something like that, enraged enough to want to destroy those responsible for it all.
The instant Zhuang Xiaolin finished speaking, waves of black shadows began floating up from the ground.
After rising, those shadows seemed to melt and drip downward, merging with some kind of substance in midair and forming soldier after soldier clad in full tactical gear and armed with modern firearms.
"Looks like we'll have to return to our old trade. Everyone, ready?"
As Glaz spoke, he checked the firearm in his hands. After looking over his remaining ammunition, he fell somewhat silent, but said nothing more.
The others did the same. Checking one's weapon