Three Days Later – Suzhou Financial District
The night skyline shimmered. Towering glass buildings loomed over neon-lit streets like steel titans watching the mortals below.
Inside one of those towers—the headquarters of Qinglong Capital, a private equity shell company tied to Lu Qingshan—Tianming was about to walk through the front door.
Not as a beggar.
Not as a shadow.
But as a ghost with a target.
Earlier That Day — Safehouse Briefing
Fang Yuwei spread blueprints across the table. Zhao Chenhai stood with arms folded, expression tight.
“This company launders Lu Qingshan’s money,” Fang said. “It’s also where he hides documents—blackmail material, account transfers, offshore holdings.”
She tapped a red circle. “The safe is here. Top floor. Biometric lock, camera surveillance, four rotating guards.”
Tianming studied it. “How do I get in?”
“You don’t,” Zhao said. “Not unless you’re an executive or investor. We’ll need forged credentials.”
“I already forged them,” Fang smirked. “Name: Lin Wuchen. Background: Macau financier with ties to East African development banks. Their front office won’t question you.”
Tianming raised an eyebrow. “How did you—”
“I used to break into things much harder than this,” she said casually.
Zhao handed him a small pen. “Inside is a micro camera. Point it at the biometric scanner once a guard uses it. It will map their fingerprint pattern in real-time.”
“And the exit plan?” Tianming asked.
“We create a distraction on the 20th floor—fire alarm or electrical fault. It’ll divert guards for ninety seconds. That’s your window.”
Tianming nodded once. “Then we strike tonight.”
11:43 PM – Qinglong Capital Lobby
Tianming walked in dressed in a charcoal suit, hair slicked back, glasses on. His jade phoenix pendant tucked beneath his shirt.
Reception didn’t blink.
“Good evening, Mr. Lin,” the assistant smiled. “Chairman Liu is expecting you in the VIP lounge.”
Tianming nodded politely, stepping into the elevator.
He rode in silence to the 31st floor. Every second ticked in his chest like a metronome.
Ping.
The elevator opened.
The floor was quiet. Glass offices, soft jazz in the background, dim lights casting long shadows.
As Tianming walked, a guard turned a corner. Perfect timing.
He tilted the pen slightly in his palm and tapped it once—camera activated.
The guard pressed his thumb against the scanner to unlock the door to the executive suite. The pen glowed once.
Fingerprint pattern captured.
Phase One—complete.
12:01 AM – 20th Floor Emergency
Suddenly—alarms blared. Red lights flashed. An automated voice repeated calmly:
“Fire detected. Evacuate immediately.”
Chaos stirred below. Guards left posts. Doors opened. Confusion danced through the system.
Tianming moved.
He ran back to the 31st floor, reached the biometric panel, and clicked his pen once against it.
Green light.
Access granted.
Inside the executive office, the safe stood behind a bookshelf. Modern. Digital. No handle.
Tianming dropped to one knee and pulled out a flash drive Fang gave him.
He plugged it into the digital port—a virus coded to override three-layer encryption in under a minute.
Beep.
Beep.
Click.
The safe opened.
Inside were folders, passports, ledgers—and one black book marked in gold:
“Phoenix Holdings – Directive 91.”
Tianming opened it.
Names. Amounts. Bank codes. Offshore vaults. Wire transfers to someone named "S. Rui."
Song Rui.
The ghost investor.
His fingers tightened on the book.
“This isn’t just corruption,” he muttered. “It’s a global laundering network.”
Then—a soft click behind him.
He turned.
A gun pointed at his chest.
Lu Qingshan’s chief bodyguard—Zheng Hai—stood in the doorway.
“You’ve got the wrong fingerprints, Mr. Lin,” Zheng said coldly.
Tianming’s lips curled.
“You sure about that?”
Then—he moved.