The ripples stirred up by this storm had long since spread into the deepest reaches of the state apparatus.
In a highly classified underground command base belonging to the Chinese military,
in a brightly lit conference room filled with cutting-edge displays of every kind,
the large screen in the center of the room was playing satellite detection and surveillance footage that had undergone special technical processing,
but still appeared blurry and indistinct.
The video showed a combination of thermal imaging and low-light night-vision footage of an island in Nanyang on a certain night.
Numerous points of light representing living beings could be seen disappearing at high speed in an extremely short time,
while one exceptionally bright point, moving along an unpredictable path,
darted among them with the precision and efficiency of the Grim Reaper's scythe.
When the video ended, silence filled the conference room.
Seated at the head of the table was a vigorous old man who commanded respect without showing anger,
the golden pine boughs on his shoulder boards proclaiming his supreme status.
He spoke slowly, his voice steady yet carrying an unquestionable authority:
"Has the technical department made its final confirmation? Are they certain a single individual was responsible for all of this?"
A leader in charge of intelligence analysis immediately rose and reported respectfully and clearly:
"Sir, we have analyzed intelligence from multiple sources, including signals intelligence, human intelligence, and this footage captured by one of our Vanguard-series reconnaissance satellites.
We can essentially confirm the following:
All signs of life on the target island disappeared completely over a total of 117 minutes.
In the end, only one individual with exceptionally strong vital signs left the island alone by boat.
His methods, efficiency, and the destruction he caused
far exceeded the limits of any known special forces group."
Silence fell over the conference room again, broken only by the faint hum of the air-conditioning system.
Every leader's face was filled with gravity and disbelief.
At last, the old man at the head of the table slowly surveyed the room, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's:
"Use every necessary and covert means to establish this person's true identity, background, and all his social connections.
Be swift and accurate!"
He paused briefly, then spoke with added emphasis, enunciating every word:
"Once the assessment report is complete, there is only one guiding principle:
He is a son of China. If his character remains sound and he has committed no act of treason,
then make every effort to win him over, offering him undisclosed assistance or recruiting him.
He is a national hero!"
"But
if the assessment finds that his character has fallen to the demonic path, or that he poses a potential threat to our country and our people,
then we must guard against the danger before it arises!"
The orders were swiftly and silently passed down.
Similar assessments and decisions were not taking place in China alone.
In an ordinary-looking safe house in the capital of a Southeast Asian country,
a group of special operatives, capable in bearing and swift in movement, were holding an emergency meeting.
They were a covert Chinese intelligence team stationed in the region.
"The target, 'Shura Qing,' whose real name is Li Qingshan, was last detected in this rainforest region where three countries' borders meet."
The team leader, a shrewd and capable-looking middle-aged man,
said, pointing to a red dot on the electronic map on the wall,
"Based on his behavioral patterns and intelligence from informants, he has most likely slipped into the vicinity of our country's border to rest and recuperate or plan his next move."
"Boss, Interpol's red notice has already been sent to the local police leadership. What should we do next?"
a younger team member asked in a lowered voice, a trace of confusion on his face.
The middle-aged leader waved a hand, cutting him off, and spoke decisively:
"The instructions from home are clear.
Our mission is to observe him covertly and keep track of his movements. Do not make contact unless necessary.
But if he faces a coordinated manhunt or finds himself in a desperate situation, provide limited, indirect assistance as circumstances permit,
to ensure he is neither captured alive nor killed."
"Provide assistance?"
The young team member was even more surprised and nearly blurted out,
"But the target is an 'extremely dangerous individual' wanted around the world! This-"
The leader gave him a meaningful look and lowered his voice:
"There are things you can't judge by the wanted notice alone.
What Li Qingshan is doing is smashing open a festering sore poisoning all of humanity.
He's doing something many of us want to do, but can't pursue without restraint because we're bound by all kinds of rules.
The crimes of the Golden Club and the forces behind it have long since enraged heaven and humanity alike; all the bamboo in the world would not suffice to record them!
In a sense, his actions are carrying out justice on heaven's behalf."
He paused, then added:
"Of course, all of this must be done in absolute secrecy. We must never leave anything that could be used against us.
The higher-ups' meaning is clear:
A man like this need not be a friend, but we must never lightly let him become an enemy,
and still less can we let him fall into the hands of certain countries."
Instructions along similar lines-"observe covertly and intervene to a limited extent as circumstances warrant"-
had in fact been issued within the secret intelligence agencies of several countries.
On the surface, every country was actively responding to Interpol's wanted notice, with a public outcry and forceful statements.
But behind the scenes, many countries knew full well what the Golden Club was.
They had simply been unable to move against it because of its vast, deeply entangled power and the formidable political protection it enjoyed.
Li Qingshan's existence and actions were like an indestructible dagger,
piercing that abscess in the crudest, most direct way
and doing what many righteous people wanted to do but dared not, or even dared not imagine.
Thus, a peculiar "tacit understanding" formed beneath the undercurrents:
The public manhunt continued as usual, but in private, all sides watched covertly, wary of angering this harbinger of slaughter.
And so, while the outside world was in an uproar over the name "Shura Qing,"
and Interpol and the various forces were locked in a fierce struggle, some openly and others in secret,
the true center of this storm sweeping the globe, Li Qingshan himself,
had instead fallen into a peculiar, almost absolute silence.
He was still in the abandoned ancient temple deep in the mountains.
Moonlight still flowed like water across the silent courtyard, illuminating his figure, motionless as a stone statue.
After the successive bouts of slaughter carried to the extreme on Heaven Island and the private island that followed, his spirit and Qi and blood had undergone the harshest tempering.
At this moment, not only was the Golden Elixir in his dantian growing ever more perfectly formed and stable,
he had even dimly touched the barrier to that profoundly mysterious realm above Elixir Jin: Gang Jin.
His Qi and blood grew ever more refined, and the power within him surged like the sea.
At the slightest movement of his will, the air around him seemed to warp subtly,
as though a formless, intangible yet incomparably resilient field of presence were slowly taking shape.
An international wanted notice?
A global manhunt?
The schemes of the various forces?
Those immense pressures, enough to make anyone collapse, seemed to him no more than a breeze brushing over a mountain ridge,
unable to stir the slightest ripple in his heart.
A faint, cold smile, tinged with mockery, even appeared at the corners of his mouth.
In that smile was absolute confidence in his own strength and the detachment of one who had seen through the world's hypocritical rules,
and, more than that, indifference toward and anticipation of the potentially fiercer storm to come.
"Wanted worldwide, heh heh."
He slowly opened his eyes. Deep within them, a brilliant golden light seemed to flash and vanish, before they returned to the depth and stillness of an ancient well.
His gaze seemed to pierce the roof of the ancient temple and the mountains rising one behind another, reaching toward the turbulent South China Sea in the distance,
and toward those enemies still hiding deep in the darkness, trembling yet gnashing their teeth.