Li Mobei quietly watched the four from the Old District, his face expressionless. Only the fist clenched so tightly that veins stood out revealed that he was not as indifferent as he appeared.
The prouder a person was, the less they could bear failure. Standing beside Zhang Muyang, Zhang Xianyang looked at the young man who had always seemed lofty and in control of everything in his memories, anticipation filling him.
He wanted to know whether, after suffering a crushing defeat in the special forces combat he took the most pride in, Li Mobei would never recover—or, like in cliché novels, rise from the ashes.
With the malice in his heart nearly bursting forth, Zhang Xianyang curled his lips into a pleasant smile and was the first to leave the command center.
For the sake of fairness, this counterterrorism exercise was divided into two rounds. In one, the Old District team would play terrorists against the Special Forces Second Team, who would come to rescue the hostage. In the other, the Second Team would play terrorists while the four from the Old District entered the abandoned building to rescue the hostage.
The first round was now underway. Zhang Xianyang and the others took Jiang Peize, who had volunteered to play the hostage, through a hidden forest and entered an abandoned building first. They had ten minutes to familiarize themselves with the building's layout and set traps. Ten minutes later, the fully armed Special Forces Second Team, led by Li Mobei, would storm the building and rescue the hostage.
Abandoning all methods of laying traps, Zhang Muyang, Gao Ci, and Wang Zhaoyi each found spots with the best fields of view to monitor the activity outside. Zhang Xianyang opened his backpack, took out a laptop along with several matching earrings and