The Prelude to the Counterattack

On the rooftop of the building across the street.

The night wind howled, carrying the unique coolness of the city night and the faint sounds of distant noise.

A white observer dressed in urban camouflage, lying prone behind a prefabricated bunker, slowly lowered the thermal imaging/low-light integrated observation device in front of him. On the screen, the red humanoid outline representing the heat source of life had completely disappeared and cooled down after that shot, leaving only the dim blue and green representing the ambient temperature.

"Target has lost vital signs. Fatal torso wound, confirmed dead." The observer calmly reported into the throat microphone in English with a slight Eastern Europe accent. His voice was completely unwavering, as if he had just confirmed not a death, but a routine coordinate calibration.

Less than two meters away from him, another sniper dressed similarly had already begun disassembling the nearly 1.5-meter-long, thick-barreled Mike TAC-50 anti-materiel sniper rifle, which reeked of gunpowder.

His movements were steady and skillful; the disassembly and reassembly of each component were precise and flawless, as if he were completing a fine work of art. A wisp of white smoke still lingered on the muzzle brake.

"Roger that. Clean up the scene and prepare to evacuate." The instructions came through the observer's earpiece.

The sniper quickly packed the disassembled parts into a specially made, long, black, rectangular gun case with a cushioned lining and fastened the latch.

Then, he crouched down and, with his tactical gloved hands, carefully picked up the three bright yellow.50 BMG cartridge cases scattered on the rooftop's waterproof layer, one by one, and put them into a sealed small bag.

Next, he checked the area around where he had been lying to make sure there were no personal belongings, footprints, or other traces left behind.

The observer also put away the observation equipment and quickly scanned the surroundings with a handheld spectrum analyzer to confirm that there were no abnormal radio signal remnants.

The whole process took less than two minutes.

The two exchanged a glance and nodded. Without further ado, they shouldered their gear (gun cases, observation kits, and small tactical backpacks) and quickly headed towards the safety exit on the other side of the rooftop. The door was gently pushed open and then silently closed again.

On the rooftop, only the howling wind and the eternal background noise of the city in the distance remained. Below, on the street, in a room on the top floor of that apartment building, everything remained dark and silent, as if nothing had ever happened.

Only a faint, almost imperceptible scent of smokeless gunpowder lingered in the air, silently bearing witness to that ruthless and efficient kill that had just occurred, spanning hundreds of meters.

The Seattle night was especially deep after the rain stopped.

In the study on the secure rooftop, heavy soundproof curtains shut out the last vestiges of city lights, leaving only a few spotlights embedded in the ceiling casting bright, focused halos of light on the dark solid wood desk and the polished floor.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of fine cigars, and a chilling, lingering scent of timelessness.

Lin Feng leaned back in his high-backed chair, a half-burnt Coibabe cigar between his fingers. The grayish-white ash had coalesced into a long streak, hanging precariously at the end, as if it might break at any moment, yet strangely maintaining its balance. He didn't smoke it, but simply let the wisp of bluish-white smoke rise straight up, twisting and dissipating under the light.

His gaze fell on a paper briefing spread out on the table, which contained concise text and a few altered photos of the scene—holes in the exterior wall of the apartment building, the mess inside the living room, and some dark stains whose details were indistinguishable.

K stood a step in front of the desk, his posture ramrod straight, like a javelin.

He had already given a detailed report that lasted for twenty minutes.

From the precise timing and environmental manipulation of the "Painter's " throat-slitting outside the coffee shop, to the clean and efficient execution of the "Mole" inside the office building, being stabbed and stuffed into a trash can, and finally the crushing elimination of the "Butcher" team inside the safe house, with machine guns breaching the door and snipers taking their place.

Every step, including the disguises of the participants, the timing, the methods, the initial handling of the scene afterward, and the anticipation of the law enforcement response, is meticulously analyzed and clearly explained.

The study was quiet, with only the faint hissing sound of cigar tobacco burning and the low hum of the central air conditioning vents.

Lin Feng lifted his gaze from the briefing and landed on K's face. His expression was calm, almost excessively so, as if what he had just heard was not the entire process of a professional and deadly assassination attempt against him being countered and eliminated, but merely an ordinary briefing about tomorrow's weather or stock market fluctuations.

He flicked his cigar lightly, and the long ash fell silently, breaking into a small clump of grayish-white powder in the glass ashtray.

"Oh?" Lin Feng spoke, his voice low and tinged with an almost playful calm, breaking the silence in the study. "So the Walton family sent someone to kill me."

He paused, put the cigar back in his mouth, took a puff, and slowly exhaled the smoke. The bluish-white smoke swirled in the light, blurring his eyes, which suddenly became exceptionally deep.

"It seems," he continued, his tone devoid of anger or fear, only a cold, almost factual certainty, "That they really want to 'fight' me."

K remained silent, standing still and waiting for what was to come. He knew that his boss's calmness was often more dangerous than his rage.

Lin Feng placed the cigar on the edge of the ashtray, leaned forward slightly, and rested his elbows on the table with his fingertips touching, forming a stable triangle.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the tabletop, landing on some more distant, calculating dimension.

"Starting with that contract with the Johnson Family," Lin Feng said slowly, his voice clearly audible in the quiet room, "To the fire at Eagle Creek Ranch, and now this group... well, quite professional assassins. The Walton family's methods have escalated layer by layer, pressing forward step by step. When commercial fraud didn't work, they set people on fire; when burning wasn't enough, they hired assassins. It's quite in line with the mindset of some 'local bullies'—always feeling that on their own turf, they set the rules and have more power than us."

He shook his head slightly, a faint, yet utterly cold, smile curving his lips.

"They thought that by overturning the table and brandishing knives, we 'outsiders' and 'those who don't know the rules' would be afraid, would cower, and would admit defeat." Lin Feng's eyes sharpened, like unsheathed ice blades. "Unfortunately, they misunderstood one thing."

He raised his eyes, looked at K again, and said clearly, word by word:

"I don't like being passively attacked. I especially dislike it when someone puts a knife to my throat and I have to smile and ask, 'Are your hands tired?'"

K straightened his back almost imperceptibly. He sensed the unmistakable decisiveness in his boss's words.

"The previous actions against the Johnson Family were a form of punishment, an attempt to establish authority, and a way to show certain people that some lines cannot be crossed."

Lin Feng leaned back in his chair, picked up his cigar again, but didn't smoke it, only gently twirling it with his fingers. "That could be considered... self-defense, or cleaning house. But the Walton family this time..."

He paused, his voice revealing a cold, hard edge that cut off all hesitation:

"Since they've started this, flipped the table, and adopted a 'it's either you or me' attitude, fine, I'll play along. But the rules need to be changed."

The air in the study seemed to drop in temperature abruptly after he said that. It was no longer a defensive chill, but an aggressive, invasive cold.

"Passive defense, reacting to every move, is too slow and too frustrating." Lin Feng's gaze flashed like lightning as he looked at the King. "From now on, it's our turn to play our cards. Since they want to 'flip the table,' I'll clean up what's under the table for them too."

The instructions were clear and unambiguous.

K immediately replied in a deep voice, "Yes, boss. What are your instructions?"

Lin Feng didn't answer immediately, but instead asked a question first, "This time, the reason we were able to discover and eliminate these assassins ahead of time wasn't because of Blood Spear, right?"

"Yes, boss." K nodded, his tone respectful of the facts.

"The Blood Spear team reacted quickly and handled the scene professionally. However, according to the recap, the assassin team's early reconnaissance and infiltration were very cautious and professional, completely bypassing Blood Spear's conventional defense network and early warning thresholds."

It was Mr. ' Golden Sun's' side that recently dispatched a professional intelligence team. They first discovered the anomaly in the more peripheral, social dynamics monitoring, identified suspicious individuals, and conducted cross-tracking confirmation.

The subsequent cleanup operation was also primarily led by them, with Blood Spear providing peripheral support and on-site control.

"Golden Sun's intelligence team..." Lin Feng repeated, his eyes thoughtful. "He always said that in business, information is more important than gold. It seems he sent more than just accountants and lawyers."

"Yes, boss. This team excels in urban counter-surveillance, intelligence screening, identity disguise, and targeted elimination. They are more covert and their methods are more... diverse. They complement Blood Spear's frontal combat capabilities," K added, while quickly reviewing the available forces in his mind.

Lin Feng nodded slightly, clearly not surprised by the result, but rather with a sense of "as expected". He curled his fingers and tapped them three times lightly on the smooth tabletop, like the rhythm of a drum.

"So, we now have three decks of cards." Lin Feng's voice was calm and authoritative. "On the surface, there's Blood Spear, Shield and Spear, responsible for the physical security of the core area and dealing with frontal assaults. In the shadows, there's Golden Sun's intelligence network, Eyes and Daggers, responsible for intelligence gathering, early warning, and silent cleanup. And then..."

He paused, giving K a deep look. K immediately understood and continued, "And then there are our usually silent 'friends.' They are the last resort, and also a force that can work wonders in certain special circumstances."

"Very good." Lin Feng nodded, satisfied with K's understanding. He relit his cigar, took a puff, let the spicy, rich smoke swirl in his lungs, and then slowly exhaled. After the smoke rose, his eyes became incredibly clear and calm, filled with a confident sense of control over the entire situation.

"K, relay my instructions." Lin Feng's tone left no room for argument; every word was like a meticulously polished piece of jade, hard and clear.

"First, launch a full investigation into the Walton Family. I need to know everything about Richard Walton, his son Brandon who is lying in the hospital, and every core member of their family, their in-laws, and their business partners."

Not just publicly known assets, businesses, and social connections. I want what they're hiding beneath the surface—evidence of tax evasion, records of illegal political donations, shady business dealings, and scandals, vices, and incriminating evidence against family members.

Especially Old Walton himself, I need to know every stain on his record of how he built his empire, every gray area through which he maintained his influence.

"Second, mobilize Golden Sun's intelligence team as the main force in this intelligence war. They are good at digging out information from the social sphere, from details, and from interpersonal networks."

I want them to comb through the web the Walton Family has woven over decades in Seattle and Washington State, unraveling every thread and finding the weakest, most vulnerable points.

"Third, I authorize you to utilize the ABZ Team, and... our 'silent friends,' when necessary, for cooperation."

The goal is to exert 'pressure' on specific individuals to obtain crucial evidence, or, if necessary, to remove certain obstructive or particularly filthy 'garbage'.

Remember, what I want is precision strikes, to expose the problem, to break them down from within, not a simple violent shootout.

"Fourth, Blood Spear is moved to the highest alert level. Construction at Eagle Creek Ranch cannot stop, but security must be doubled. All our outposts in Seattle, including this one, are now at 'wartime' level. To prevent any desperate measures."

"Finally," Lin Feng leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing as if he could see through the walls to the seemingly impregnable fortress belonging to the Walton Family in the distance, "Tell everyone involved in this operation that this time, it's not defense, it's offense. It's not revenge, it's elimination. What I want is not just a few deaths in the Walton family, but the complete and utter collapse of the reputation, power, and wealth network they've built up in Seattle over decades."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, revealing the final and ultimate goal:

"I want everyone to see clearly what the price is for messing with me. I also want those who are still watching or having ulterior motives to understand who is the one here... the one you can't overturn."

After he finished speaking, the study fell silent. Only the cigars burned quietly, emitting a rich aroma.

K stood solemnly, engraving every instruction from Lin Feng into his mind. He could sense that with the issuance of these instructions, an invisible yet even more powerful and dangerous force was being quietly released from this peaceful safe house study, like a sleeping beast opening its eyes and locking onto new prey.

"Understood, boss." K's voice was steady and firm. "I'll get to work on it immediately. Intelligence gathering will proceed simultaneously on multiple fronts, with a preliminary report expected within forty-eight hours. Operational resources are on standby."

Lin Feng waved his hand, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. It was as if the decisive orders he had just given had taken a toll on his mental energy, or perhaps he was simply conserving his strength for the coming, more intense storm.

"Go," he said calmly.

K said no more, bowed slightly, turned around, and left the study with silent but firm footsteps, gently closing the heavy solid wood door behind him.

In the study, only Lin Feng remained, along with the wisps of smoke from his cigar.

Outside the window, there was an endless, silent night.

But beneath the surface of Seattle, a cold and deadly Undercurrent, aimed at the old local tyrants, has begun to surge and converge, silently and resolutely sweeping toward its target.

The prelude to the counterattack has already begun.