Chapter 495: Hunter and Prey

Ding.

The unsliced "Eastern Star" slammed onto the marble floor, its crisp sound like a violin string snapping.

The sound wasn't loud, but in the dead silence of the darkness it served as a starting gun.

The six "Arctic Fox" mercenaries brandishing MP5 submachine guns hadn't reacted yet when a dozen intense beams burst from behind the massive decorative pillars surrounding the hall. They were modified xenon spotlights, originally bought for night‑time mining work, now blinding the night‑vision‑equipped mercenaries' faces.

In an instant of the glare, the night vision gear was no different from a blind man's.

"Fuck!" the leading mercenary captain shrieked, instinctively trying to yank off his night vision device.

Too late.

The vent cover above slid open silently, and several black silhouettes, like upside‑down bats hanging from the ceiling, descended—unarmed, but each clutching cold, metallic gear.

Qian Weiguo flipped over the second‑floor railing and leapt down, not holding a knife but a ultra‑thin, high‑strength fishing line. He had prepared the line for bass fishing in Africa; it could haul hundreds of kilograms and could as easily snap a man's throat.

He arced a half‑circle in the air, the line whistling, and precisely coiled around the barrel of the assistant who was about to fire blindly.

Qian Weiguo hit the ground and, using his momentum, gave a sudden yank.

"Bang—"

The assistant, man and gun together, was yanked flying, as if struck by an invisible motorcycle, slamming heavily against the bullet‑proof glass wall, emitting a sickening, bone‑cracking sound, then sliding down the glass and coming to a halt.

No gunshot.

Only the muffled thud of a blade slicing cloth and flesh, and the thump of heavy objects hitting the floor.

These veteran mercenaries had spent a month in Angola's jungle‑desert with black guerrillas, honing the skill to kill without bullets. They were intimately familiar with using terrain and feeling for an enemy's vulnerable back in the dark.

Lu Qingshan stood rooted, not even shifting his heels.

He leisurely pulled a lighter from his pocket, and with a "click," a flame leapt up.

That feeble light illuminated his expressionless face and the one‑sided slaughter unfolding at his feet.

Thirty seconds.

In just thirty seconds, the activity in the hall ceased.

Five fully‑armed elite mercenaries now lay neatly on the floor, tendons and muscles ripped out, like five dead snakes whose spines had been pulled, without even a whimper of strength.

Only the captain remained standing.

Yet he could not move. Qian Weiguo's razor‑sharp military dagger pressed against his carotid; a slight twitch would turn him into a fountain.

"Old Money, your skill hasn't rusted," Lu Qingshan said, snapping the lighter shut, bending to pick up the diamond on the ground, and blowing the dust off it.

"That's the work of slaughtering pigs and sheep; practice makes it familiar, you never forget," Qian Weiguo grinned, flashing a huge yellow tooth, looking under the flickering light more terrifying than a ghost.

Lu Qingshan ordered the lights turned on, clutching the diamond, and walked up to the mercenary captain.

The Russian was a tough nut; though restrained, his gaze was as fierce as a wolf, fixed on Lu Qingshan.

"This stone's hardness is ten thousand," Lu Qingshan said, tracing the diamond's sharp edge across the captain's face, "Tell me, is the stone hard, or is your skin hard?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lu Qingshan's wrist twitched.

"Stab—"

The diamond's edge sliced straight across the captain's cheek, from cheekbone down to the jaw, skin and flesh flayed, blood gushing instantly.

"Ah!" the captain convulsed all over in pain, but he bit his teeth shut, a flash of determination flashing in his eyes, and his cheekbone bulged sharply.

"Want to die?"

Lin Yueqiang, who had been standing beside him, acted with lightning speed; his right hand, like a tiger's claw, shot out, gripping the captain's jaw and pulling it down.

"Clack!" a crisp sound rang.

The jaw dislocated, and the potassium cyanide capsule hidden in the socket fell out, rolling onto the rain‑slick floor.

"Want to die that easily?" Lin Yueqiang kicked his bent knee, forcing him to kneel before Lu Qingshan, "Brother‑in‑law, this brat wants to take poison."

"Take him down," Lu Qingshan said with a wry look at Qian Weiguo, "Old Money, it's yours. I don't care about the process; in ten minutes I want to know how many rat holes Ivanov still has in Capital City."

Qian Weiguo chuckled, pulling a pair of cigar‑cutting scissors from his waist: "Don't worry, boss. After so many years in the army, I've seen plenty of stubborn mouths like this. I have plenty of ways to make him speak, for example... trimming his fingernails."

The Russian was dragged into the basement.

Lu Qingshan stood by the window, the thunderstorm outside still raging; a bolt of lightning split the night sky, illuminating half of Capital City.

In less than eight minutes, Qian Weiguo returned, wiping blood from his hands.

"Got them," Qian Weiguo said, his face grim, "These bastards really aren't human."

"Speak."

"Besides these assassins, they've set up a poisoning team near Miyun Reservoir, carrying dozens of kilograms of high‑concentration chemical toxin, planning to act during tomorrow morning's water‑supply peak."

Lu Qingshan's previously calm face instantly hardened into ice.

Miyun Reservoir is Capital City's water tank, the source of drinking water for millions.

This is a terrorist attack, intending to sacrifice the entire city's populace.

"Ivanov..." Lu Qingshan forced the name out between his teeth, "You're courting death."

He turned, the scholar‑merchant aura vanished, replaced by a murderous aura crawling out of a sea of corpses and blood.

"Yueqiang."

"Here!"

"Notify all security forces in Capital City, and inform General Zhang to alert the military."

Lu Qingshan walked to the table, picked up the Capital City map, and heavily circled several points on Miyun and the government hall with his pen.

"Tell them this is not an exercise. This is a purge of foreign enemies."

"Activate 'Citywide Cleansing.' Send all our trucks out, block roads, seal exits. With General Zhang's men, crush these rats one by one."

"Yes!"

In the rainy night, the once‑silent underground garage of Xinghan Building roared.

Dozens of box trucks bearing the "Xinghan Logistics" logo surged into the rain. The cargo holds were not filled with movers but with veterans Qian Weiguo had brought back from the front, each cradling weapons, eyes icy.

That night, the underground world of Capital City turned upside down.

Several inconspicuous guesthouses, rental rooms, and even a shell company bearing an export‑trade sign were all forced open at the same time.

No nonsense, no warning.

They entered with thunderous force. The lurking KGB agents, still in their sleep, were pinned to the bed before they could even reach for the guns under their pillows.

On the Miyun Reservoir Dam.

Three figures in raincoats were furtively feeling their way toward the water intake, each carrying a heavy lead tank.

Suddenly, several floodlights flared up at both ends of the dam, sandwiching them in the middle.

"Who are you?!"

The answer was a few muffled gunshots.

The sniper had been lying in ambush all along.

The three figures fell to the ground with the shots, the lead tanks rolled onto the floor, never having been opened.

Four A. M.

The rain stopped. The air carried a whiff of damp earth and a faint scent of gunpowder.

Lu Qingshan stood before a base that had just been cleared, bloodstains still unwashed on the ground. He held the Satellite Phone confiscated from the agent and dialed the number that was already deeply ingrained in his mind.

The phone rang three times before being answered.

It was noon in Moscow on the other end, with the sound of a typewriter in the background.

"I am Ivanov," the voice remained husky, tinged with arrogance.

"I am Lu Qingshan."

There was a two‑second silence on the other end, then a cold laugh: "Looks like my few North Polar Foxes got lost?"

"They didn't get lost; they went straight to hell," Lu Qingshan said evenly, as if mentioning a trivial matter, "and I also took care of those Absolute Household Schemes you had at the reservoir."

Ivanov's breathing grew noticeably heavier: "Lu, you think this is over? KGB's retaliation knows no end. As long as you remain on Earth..."

"Ivanov," Lu Qingshan cut him off, "I received the nesting doll you sent. As a return gift, I chopped off all your claws in Capital City, packed them, and sent them back to the embassy."

"By the way, there's also a surprise."

Lu Qingshan looked up at the pale fish‑belly glow rising in the east.

"Don't you like to play with oil? Don't you think your Red Empire is indestructible?"

"Go check the current oil price. I will make the entire Soviet Union pay for your stupidity."

After speaking, Lu Qingshan hung up the phone outright and tossed the expensive Satellite Phone onto the table.

"Yueqiang."

"Brother‑in‑law."

"Call Saleman," Lu Qingshan said, eyes sharper than a blade as he stared at the eastern glimmer, "tell him the Oil Winch plan is to be executed immediately. No need to wait until next month."

"I want tomorrow morning, the whole world to see Brent crude oil drop below 10 US Dollars."

"I will make Moscow's winter arrive early."

Lin Yueqiang shivered; he knew that once this order was issued, the massive Red Empire would truly start bleeding.

"Understood! I'm contacting them right now!"

Lu Qingshan lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

The roles of hunter and prey swapped completely from this moment onward.