A Deathsworn's Call for Help and Orders Before the Evacuation
Eagle Creek Ranch, lakeside villa. Late at night.
Only one desk lamp was lit in the study, casting a warm, dim glow on the large walnut wood table. Beyond the glow, thick shadows sank into every corner of the room.
Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the night was as black as ink. The lake swallowed all light, blending seamlessly with the outlines of the distant mountains and forests. All was quiet except for the barely audible hum of the device simulating the flickering flames in the fireplace and the hypnotic ticking of the antique clock in the study.
Lin Feng sat behind his desk, holding a report that K had just presented, an assessment of the initial infiltration sites in Los Angeles, California. The report was thin, but extremely information-dense, listing several shell companies as potential contacts, a list of intermediaries, and several key but inconspicuous small assets.
He looked very carefully, lightly circling a few names and data with a silver Montblanc pen. Occasionally he would pause, gazing at the boundless darkness outside the window, his eyes deep, as if simultaneously sketching in his mind the future landscape of that City of Sin three thousand kilometers away.
Everything seemed calm, like the deep night lake.
suddenly--
Without warning, Lin Feng's fingers, which were gripping the pen, suddenly stiffened.
It wasn't an external sound, nor physical pain, but a sudden, sharp stinging and pulling sensation originating from the deepest part of his consciousness, the very point where his soul was bound! It was as if the most delicate nerves were being pierced by invisible needles, or as if some invisible thread that held him together was being forcibly stretched, burned, and emitted an unbearable wail in the distant darkness!
"Uh..." A short, almost imperceptible groan escaped Lin Feng's throat. His body tensed instantly, and the pen in his hand fell with a "clatter" onto the open report, the nib leaving an unsightly ink mark on the paper. He subconsciously raised his hand and pressed it tightly against his temple, a few cold beads of sweat instantly appearing on his forehead.
But this pain was not a physical headache. It was more illusory, more direct, piercing the essence of consciousness. At the same time, a faint, intermittent, yet incredibly clear, non-verbal call and location information, like radio waves that had pierced through countless interferences, forcibly squeezed into the core of his perception.
Pain... confinement... bright light... cold metal... several blurry, distorted figures... violent actions... and an incredibly clear coordinate—IRS Seattle Area Office Building, Basement 2, Block D.
"Zhao Zhiyong...!"
Lin Feng suddenly opened his eyes, and his usually calm and deep black eyes now flashed with a terrifyingly cold light! The temperature in the study seemed to drop ten degrees! The stinging pain and the call came from the underlying alarm mechanism of the "Deathsworn Summoning System"!
Only when the "suicide squad" bound to him encounters extreme harm and pressure that threatens their lives or may break through the blockade of their underlying will, will they send a final, instinctive alarm and share their location with their "master" through this consciousness connection that transcends physical distance!
IRS! Second basement level! Torture! They've not only arrested someone, but are using the most brutal methods to try and pry Zhao Zhiyong's mouth open!
Anger, a cold and violent anger, like magma from the earth's core, instantly shattered Lin Feng's calm facade. He jumped up from his chair, the movement so forceful that it knocked over the heavy wooden chair. The chair legs creaked against the floor, a startling sound in the quiet study.
"K!"
Lin Feng's voice rang out, not loud, but like two pieces of polar ice colliding, every syllable exuding a chilling killing intent.
Almost as soon as he finished speaking, the study door was pushed open silently and swiftly. K appeared in the doorway, clearly on high alert, instantly sensing the unusual commotion inside the study and the unprecedented, almost tangible, chilling killing intent emanating from Lin Feng. K's expression instantly turned extremely solemn, and his right hand instinctively went to his side.
"Boss?" K strode into the study, his gaze quickly sweeping over Lin Feng's slightly pale face, the cold sweat on his forehead, the pen lying on the floor, and those eyes burning with a terrifying flame.
"Our man, Zhao Zhiyong," Lin Feng said rapidly, his voice cold and ruthless, without uttering a single word, "Has been arrested by the IRS and is currently in the underground interrogation room, undergoing severe torture."
K's pupils suddenly contracted. "When did this happen? Our observation points outside the IRS haven't reported any unusual arrests or..."
"They used methods to bypass conventional monitoring and law enforcement systems, and directly attacked me." Lin Feng interrupted him, his voice filled with icy anger, "They're after me. Someone couldn't wait any longer and wanted to pry open my shell from the bottom and find a crack."
He walked to the huge map of the United States on the wall, and with a loud "bang," slammed his finger down on the location of the IRS office building in downtown Seattle, as if he wanted to pierce through it.
K immediately realized the seriousness of the problem. Zhao Zhiyong was one of the "front men." Although he knew only a limited number of the core secrets, he was a key link connecting Lin Feng with several physical assets and a node in the "death squad" network.
"I'll immediately arrange for my top-notch legal team to intervene, apply for a writ of habeas corpus, and at the same time utilize our resources within the Department of Department of Justice..." K's mind raced as he devised a response plan.
"It's too late, and it's useless." Lin Feng interrupted again, his tone resolute and brooking no argument. "The fact that they dared to arrest people directly and resort to vigilante justice shows that the forces behind them have already torn off all pretense and have no intention of going through normal legal procedures. Conventional legal retaliation and public pressure are too inefficient, especially since the other side is well-prepared and has law enforcement power. Moreover, it would alert them and put Zhao Zhiyong in even greater danger."
He turned around, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's as he locked onto K: "Zhao Zhiyong will never speak—"
Lin Feng spoke slowly and deliberately, each word like an ice bead hitting the ground, "Before he can speak, before he suffers any more unnecessary pain, before the other side gets even the slightest valuable clue from him—solve it."
K straightened his back, realizing that the order his boss was about to give might be unprecedented, extremely dangerous, and decisive.
Lin Feng walked to his desk, his gaze falling on the report about the infiltration in California, but his focus was clearly elsewhere. He paused for two seconds, as if making a final decision, then looked up at K. All the fluctuations in his eyes had vanished, leaving only a frozen calm, and beneath that calm, a surging, destructive determination.
"What's the status of the evacuation team on Mr. Jin's side?" Lin Feng asked, his voice regaining its usual calmness, but colder and harsher.
"The first batch of core personnel are already in a state of silent standby. Their identities have been changed, and they can leave the country at any time according to the preset safe route, leaving no trace." K replied immediately, with perfect accuracy.
"Tell them," Lin Feng said slowly, his voice not loud, but it echoed heavily in the quiet study, "Before you leave, do one last thing for me."
K held her breath.
"Target: IRS Seattle office building, basement level 2, Block D. I'll send you the exact coordinates later. Mission: Under the premise of not exposing yourself, not triggering a full-scale alarm, and not affecting subsequent evacuation," Lin Feng spoke calmly, yet each word carried immense weight, "Bring Zhao Zhiyong out alive. I need to see him, intact and conscious."
He paused for a moment, a cold glint in his eyes, and added the ruthless but necessary alternative:
"If, due to any unforeseen circumstances, it is impossible to safely evacuate..."
Lin Feng's voice was completely flat, as if he were describing a technical operation unrelated to life or death:
"Then, don't make things difficult for your brother..."
He looked up, his gaze seemingly piercing through the walls, fixed on the federal building that slept in the night:
"Leave some 'souvenirs' for those 'experts' who took action. Not fatal, but enough to remind them that some things are not for them to touch. Be quick, precise, and act as if nothing ever happened. Once the mission is complete, the entire team, according to the original final evacuation plan, will immediately and completely disappear, entering a long period of silence, awaiting the next awakening."
Attacking the Internal Revenue Service' underground core area, rescuing or executing key witnesses, and retaliating against law enforcement personnel—each of these is a serious crime worthy of national wrath and indefinite manhunt. But Lin Feng issued the order without hesitation. His assassins were his core asset, an extension of his secret system, and one of the cornerstones of his power; they could not be lost. This was not only a ruthless rescue, but also, if necessary, an even more ruthless elimination, and the most direct and forceful warning and counterattack against the IRS and its backers—using the violent language they were most familiar with.
K took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slightly due to the importance and danger of the mission. But there was no doubt or fear on his face, only absolute solemnity and acceptance.
"Yes!" K's voice was firm and decisive. "I will immediately contact Mr. Jin through the highest-level encrypted channel to initiate the 'cleanup' procedure. The mission briefing and coordinates will be sent out within one minute. The evacuation team will enter the final execution countdown."
Lin Feng nodded, walked to the window, turned his back to K, and gazed at the thick darkness outside that swallowed everything. His figure, backlit by the desk lamp, formed a tall and cold silhouette.
"Want to play hardball?" Lin Feng muttered to himself, staring at his blurry reflection in the windowpane. A cold, almost cruel smile curled at the corner of his lips. "Then let's see whose backbone is harder, whose methods... are darker, more ruthless."
A high-risk, violent rescue/silencing operation targeting the core enforcement area of United States Internal Revenue Service, shrouded in the seemingly tranquil night on this lakeside, began to quietly start like a finely wound-up killing machine. The gears meshed silently, yet with a resolute force that would crush all obstacles.
The Seattle night sky remained calm. But beneath this calm, a deadly Undercurrent had already transformed into a raging torrent, silently and swiftly surging towards the gray building that symbolized the nation's tax revenue power.
Silence returned to the study. Only the desk lamp, still casting a dim yet persistent glow, illuminated the California report on the table, torn by a pen, and also the figure standing by the window, as steadfast as Rock, awaiting the storm.