Chapter 250: Going on a Mission

Heavy rain.

It carried a fishy stench, as if it wanted to churn up all the sludge in the city's sewers.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau, Equipment Division.

The metallic clang was crisp and piercing.

Ouyang Feng stood before the rack, his fingers sweeping over rows of brand‑new hot weapons.

High‑explosive grenades, specially made armor‑piercing rounds, and even a small tactical rocket launcher.

His hand did not pause, gliding straight over those gunpowder‑laden killing tools.

His fingertip finally rested on a black metal square box.

【Wide-Area Signal Jammer (Modified)】

Once activated, within a five‑hundred‑meter radius all radio, surveillance signals, even the bureau's real‑time communications, would turn into static snow.

"Captain?"

A voice came from behind, flat and unruffled.

L nudged the heavy black‑framed glasses on their nose, cradling the laptop plastered with a cat sticker.

She stood in the doorway, like a robot with its program set.

"According to the calculations, when confronting unknown‑rule‑type Weird, the survival rate with heavy firepower suppression is 17.6% higher than with a shielding device."

Ouyang Feng did not turn around.

From a angle L could not see, he slipped the box onto his waist, moving with fluid grace.

"No gunpowder needed."

His voice was cold, like two pieces of raw iron grinding together.

"I am the most powerful weapon, let's go."

The black business van threaded through the rain curtain.

The cabin pressure was extremely low.

Nie Yang sat in the passenger seat, cradling a Thermal Cup from which a wisp of steam rose.

He looked through the rearview mirror, smiling as he surveyed the man in the back seat.

"Captain Ouyang, you don't actually need to go in person on this mission."

Nie Yang blew at the floating goji berries, his tone warm and unhurried, like a neighborly uncle.

Ouyang Feng leaned against the seat back, eyes closed.

"Lord Wei's command is absolute."

Ouyang Feng opened his eyes, the emotion in his pupils cleaned out completely, "Otherwise I would have no reason to be here."

L's fingers hammered the keyboard at speed.

The screen's light reflected on her pale face.

"Target confirmed."

"Wen Liang, male, 22, a dropout from the Art Academy, originally healthy. Single‑parent family, mother suffers from end‑stage uremia."

"Three days ago, he found this porcelain bottle at an antique market. That night, the hospital issued a discharge notice stating his mother had recovered."

"According to the investigation, a day ago he was diagnosed with several terminal illnesses."

L's voice was flat, as if reciting an autopsy report.

"Cost transfer."

Nie Yang sighed, tightened the Thermal Cup's lid, his smile narrowing a bit, "There's no such thing as a Wish Bottle in this world; it's just a patch‑up trick. That kid… probably still doesn't know the thing in his hand is a Death Summoning Talisman."

Ouyang Feng turned his head toward the window.

The rain grew heavier.

Death Summoning Talisman?

No.

In his eyes, that wasn't a Wish Bottle at all; it was a ladder to the 'Divine Throne.'

As long as he gets that bottle.

As long as he makes that wish.

Even if he fills it with the lives of the whole city's people, he doesn't mind.

Humans have limits.

But Ouyang Feng doesn't want limits.

Happiness Community.

The name sounds festive, yet it is actually one of the city's notorious slums.

Tongzi Lou resembled rows of moldy, rotten sausages packed together, its outer walls flaking in mottled patches, exposing the blackened red bricks inside.

The air was thick with oil‑smoke, mildew, and the foul back‑flow of the sewer.

Even in the downpour, it remained saturated with that suffocating 'life atmosphere.'

Not everyone is as polished and glamorous as the elites living in City Center.

"We've arrived."

L closed the computer.

The drone had long been silently hovering outside the window of Room 502.

The footage streamed onto the vehicle's screen.

Under the dim yellow light.

A frail young man was hunched over a table drawing. His back was slouched, his hair long, and he looked malnourished.

And right beside his easel.

A delicate pale‑blue porcelain vase was placed there.

But Ouyang Feng, in that instant, felt his internal Ghost Spine tremble wildly.

It was a resonance between kindred.

"Go ahead."

Nie Yang pushed open the car door, his hand already reaching for the sidearm at his waist, "Old rule: disperse the crowd, establish a quarantine line."

"Hold on."

Ouyang Feng called out to him.

He methodically adjusted his gloves, slipping each finger into the jet‑black leather, covering the fingertips that were already beginning to ossify.

"In such an old, cramped neighborhood, the population density is too high. If the target is startled, or that vase has any stress reaction, the consequences would be unimaginable."

Ouyang Feng's voice was steady, carrying an undeniable authority.

"Nie Yang, you take L and guard downstairs, seal off all exits. L, cut the building's power and create a false blackout."

Nie Yang froze for a moment, the lines on his face tightening, hesitating: "Captain, according to the regulations, when facing rule‑type Weird, more than two people must act to activate the backup plan......"

"I am the backup plan."

Ouyang Feng cut him off.

He pushed open the car door, and the sudden downpour drenched his crisp Black Combat Suit.

He stood in the rain, turned his head and glanced at the two people inside the car.

His gaze was cold.

Yet it was also bright.

Like a freshly honed blade.

"If you go up, you'll only be a burden."

That's the truth.

It is also an excuse.

Nie Yang opened his mouth, then chose to obey. After all, two weeks earlier at the Investigation Bureau, the name Ouyang Feng had stood for absolute correctness and power.

"...... Understood. Captain, keep the communications clear."

Ouyang Feng turned, strode into the pitch‑black Tongzi Lou.

The stairwell was dark.

L cut the power, and the sole voice‑controlled lamp became a mere decoration.

Ouyang Feng did not turn on the Tactical Flashlight.

His altered eyes had long adapted to darkness. To him, the building was not black but a gray‑white hue, with every line clearly visible.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Military boots struck the cement steps, producing a muffled echo.

Third floor.

A family was having dinner; even though the power was out, they lit a Candle, and the sounds of children's laughter and clattering dishes filled the air.

Warm.

Mundane.

But......

Too fragile.

A gentle pinch would shatter it.

Just like the former self.

Fourth floor.

A couple was arguing; the man's roar and the woman's sobbing mingled together.

Fifth floor.

Arrived.

Ouyang Feng stood before the peeling anti‑theft door of Room 502.

He raised his hand and pressed the Communicator at his ear.

"Arrived at the target location. It's quiet here, no abnormal fluctuations."

"Copy that, Captain, be careful." Nie Yang's voice came through the headset, slightly distorted.

A strange smile tugged at Ouyang Feng's mouth corner.

He didn't rush to breach the door.

Instead, he reached for his waist and gently pressed the switch on the black square box.

Buzz—

A sharp electric crackle sounded through the headset, then fell into absolute silence.

Signal jamming, activated.

Now.

This is an isolated island.

No one knows what will happen here, nor can anyone stop what is about to occur.

Recorder?

Ouyang Feng reached out and crushed the shoulder‑mounted camera.

Plastic shards and glass fragments pierced his gloves, but he felt no pain.

He only felt excitement.

"Huh......"

He exhaled a cloud of foul breath.

The vertebrae on his back seemed alive, pressing against his battle suit, and emitted a crackling that made his teeth tingle.