It seemed the plan to lie low, grow stronger, and assassinate in secret had come to an end.

The Gulfstream G650 private jet streaked across the sky like a silver arrow and landed smoothly at a private airport outside Washington, D.C.

The cabin door opened, and Chen Lin slowly descended the boarding stairs, wearing the blond-haired, blue-eyed face of "Jack Smith."

He had no luggage beyond a simple backpack. He walked out of the airport with an indifferent expression and immediately sensed a murderous tension utterly at odds with the city's bustle.

Upon entering the city, he found that all of Washington had become a vast military fortress.

Guards and checkpoints lined the streets. Patrolling police carried loaded weapons, while National Guard armored vehicles sat brazenly at intersections, their dark gun barrels sweeping warily over every passerby.

There were more police and National Guardsmen here than tourists.

With senses far sharper than those of ordinary people, Chen Lin could clearly detect the cold gazes of countless snipers lurking behind windows in the buildings lining the streets and among the rooftop barricades.

Their scopes glinted intermittently in the sunlight like the eyes of venomous snakes, making the air throughout the city feel thick and oppressive.

He noticed something interesting.

The attention of these visible and hidden sentries focused mainly on Asian faces and any people of color who looked suspicious.

His thoroughly Anglo-Saxon face, with its hints of Aryan features, had instead become his best camouflage.

Those scrutinizing gazes lingered on him for only a moment before quickly moving away, as though he naturally belonged among the safe and harmless.

The enemy was searching the entire city for a man from Huaxia, unaware that their target was strolling leisurely through their dragnet wearing the very face they trusted most.

At an intersection, a shrill police siren suddenly sounded.

A young Black man merely reached into his pocket for his