Chapter 268: Release

The torrential rain poured down, washing away the city's sins and neon.

A streak of fire that ripped the night sky became the most violent hallmark of this downpour.

Boom—!

The roar, comparable to a meteor impact, made the ground quake violently, as if a sleeping giant were brutally stepped on and its spine shattered.

The aerial prison, that solitary residential tower bearing the Weird "Ghost Wall" of Sequence 002, crashed down to the earth with a grim, decisive force.

At the moment of impact, the reinforced concrete structure was compressed and torn apart by massive kinetic energy, turning into billions of fragments that hurled flames and thick smoke outward in all directions!

"Seal off! Seal all exits! Team A, check the impact core! Team B, establish a defensive line! Quickly!"

The Special Forces squad captain, who had already been waiting in strict formation on the ground, roared into the Communicator amid the intense ringing in his ears.

Dozens of fully armed Special Forces members, braving splintered stone and mud, surged toward the massive crater belching black smoke like a tide.

Yet they were doomed to gain nothing.

In the second before the building collapsed, a suffocating resentment, thick enough to solidify, seeped from the disintegrating walls like living ink, silently merging into the rain‑soaked soil.

Wang Kai's consciousness—or rather, the core of the Ghost Wall—completed its transfer the instant it regained freedom.

It had no interest in the Special Forces members scurrying around like ants.

They were not enemies.

Killing them would be meaningless.

The Fierce Ghost's essence slipped underground, ignoring physical barriers, like a hungry shark prowling the deep sea, guided by some unseen instinct, sniffing for prey.

Soon, it found a target.

It was not Ouyang Feng.

But a temporary operations command room.

Inside the command room, bright lights illuminated dozens of technicians frantically working at screens, the air filled with the hum of electricity and the strained breaths of humans.

There was no warning.

The cement floor at the center of the command room began to darken, as if splashed with thick ink.

A bone‑chilling cold seeped upward from the floor, and every electronic screen started flickering wildly, emitting a sizzling electrical hiss.

"What's happening? Electromagnetic interference?"

A technician voiced the doubt.

Beneath the floor, Weird energy coalesced and finally formed a vague humanoid silhouette.

It had no physical form, only a shadow of pure resentment.

Wang Kai's gaze swept over the humans and finally fixed on a massive tactical screen at the front.

The screen displayed a real‑time thermal image of the Happiness Community Tongzi Lou.

A red humanoid marker glowed with a dazzling light.

Next to the marker, a line of clear textual annotation.

【Ouyang Feng】

O‑Yang‑Feng.

When those three characters entered Wang Kai's mind, the temperature of the entire command room suddenly dropped to freezing.

A thin layer of white frost formed on the walls.

Found it.

The mastermind who had pushed himself and his wife and daughter into the Abyss.

The biggest umbrella protecting the Han De Group!

The towering hatred turned into a silent roar.

The next second.

The humanoid black shadow shattered, reforming into a blot of ink that sank into the ground and vanished.

The whole process took less than five seconds.

Everyone in the command room seemed as if just pulled from icy water, drenched through, their teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"He... he left?"

"That's right, he left."

A senior analyst, suppressing fear, rushed to the tactical screen and pulled up a Weird energy detection map of the entire area.

"Ghost Wall" Wang Kai has already left this place.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau, Central Command.

On the massive screen wall, everything happening inside the Happiness Community was displayed clearly.

From the fall of the aerial prison monitored by "Azkaban" to the Ghost Wall's escape, and then its lock on Ouyang Feng's location.

All stages proceeded with second‑by‑second precision.

Wei Gong, hands behind his back, calmly stared at the light representing the Ghost Wall, drawing a decisive straight line on the map.

No expression crossed his face.

His cloudy old eyes revealed neither approval nor regret.

He was merely a chess player chilled to the extreme, watching the pieces he had placed himself march along the anticipated path toward the predetermined battlefield.

"Report! Sequence 002 has broken containment and is rapidly approaching the building where Ouyang Feng is located!"

"At the Ghost Wall's current speed, contact is expected in two minutes!"

The assistant's voice trembled with uncontainable tension.

Wei Gong merely raised his hand, signaling him to be quiet.

He slowly turned, picking up the internal Communicator on the desk.

"The bait has taken the hook."

His voice, passing through encrypted lines, reached some unknown place.

"Abyss Walker."

"From now on, it's up to you."

Meanwhile.

A thousand li away.

An abandoned heavy‑industrial district, its rust‑spotted factories like silent steel beasts, stood quietly amid the endless rain curtain.

This is a corner forgotten by the city, a dead zone even a homeless wanderer would not set foot in.

Suddenly.

A sharp sound tearing through the air ripped the quiet of the rainy night.

A supersonic fighter jet, entirely jet‑black and sci‑fi in design, broke through the heavy clouds and, in an almost brazen manner, landed on a relatively flat clearing.

The scorching airflow spewed by the jet's engine instantly vaporized the standing water, producing a plume of white mist.

"Hiss—"

The hatch opened, and a hydraulic arm lowered the suspended ladder slowly.

Liang Wen's figure appeared at the hatch.

He shed his combat suit, donning a well‑tailored black Windcoat, and his signature Fingerless Gloves now looked especially lethal.

On his face, the usual adolescent bravado and flamboyance had faded considerably.

In their place was a fatigue forged by time's relentless crushing, and a resolute determination akin to burning one's own boats.

He straightened his wind‑ruffled collar with meticulous movements, as if attending an exceedingly important ceremony.

Then he descended the ladder, stepping into this abandoned place shrouded in darkness and torrential rain.

He wasn't here to admire the rain.

He came to keep an appointment.

To deal with a madman on the verge of becoming a god, relying solely on another hatred‑driven Fierce Ghost is insufficient.

He needs a sharper blade.

A true one, a Demon King capable of making even gods tremble...