At eleven late at night, in the secret room beneath Renxin Clinic.
Joe Chow pushed two photos across the table.
One was the storefront of an antique shop with a sign reading “Eastern Antiques,” and the other was a hand-drawn building floor plan marked with entry points and circuit paths.
“The target,” he said.
Sitting across from him were Leslie and Remy.
Leslie wore her newly issued tactical suit—black, cut-resistant material with an insulated lining.
Remy remained in his casual clothes, idly spinning a playing card between his fingers.
“An antique shop?” Leslie frowned.
“Are we robbing cultural relics?” “It’s a cover,” Remy said.
“A low-level Foot Clan outpost responsible for intelligence relays and small-scale smuggling.
Permanently staffed by three to five low-level ninjas—no tough nuts.” Joe Chow pointed to the floor plan.
“Your mission is simple.
First, use electric current to paralyze all surveillance and communications.
Second, create internal chaos to give Remy an infiltration window.
Third, if any ninjas come out, intercept them, but you are not allowed to kill.” “Not allowed to kill?” “This is a test, not a slaughter,” Joe Chow said, looking at her.
“I want to see control precision, not destructive power.
You can sever a sword with an electric arc, but can you break the sword without hurting the person?
You can short-circuit appliances, but can you short out only the target equipment without causing a fire?” Leslie was silent for a few seconds.
“I’ll try.” “Not try—execute,” Joe Chow handed her a pair of gloves made of black leather, their palms embedded with jade pieces.
“An upgraded stabilizer.
Put them on.” Leslie took the gloves and put them on.
A familiar, soothing warmth radiated from her palms.
“What about my mission?” Remy asked.
“Infiltrate, locate the bookkeeper’s hidden room, and secure all ledgers and correspondence,” Joe Chow said.
“If you encounter guards, render them non-lethal.
Prioritize your own safety; the data is secondary.” “Time window?” “From the power outage until they react, about two minutes.
Is that enough?” “More than enough.” Remy slipped the playing card into his pocket.
“Equipment?” “Basic tools are in the car,” Joe Chow stood up.
“Command point is on the second floor of a cafe three blocks away.
I’ll monitor the entire operation and direct you via earpiece.
Report immediately if there’s any problem.” The three went downstairs.
Outside sat an inconspicuous gray sedan.
Remy drove, Joe Chow sat in the passenger seat, and Leslie sat in the back.
The journey was quiet.
Joe Chow closed his eyes, deploying his Wall-Piercing Vision ahead of time to scan the target area.
There were three people inside the antique shop, with ordinary energy signatures—indeed just low-level ninjas.
There were two vagrants at the street corner, and further away, a police car on patrol, though its route didn’t pass through the area.
“Park,” Joe Chow said when they were two blocks from the target.
Remy pulled into a side alley.
Joe Chow got out and headed toward the designated cafe.
Leslie and Remy waited in the car.
At a window seat on the second floor of the cafe, Joe Chow ordered a cup of coffee and set up observation equipment disguised as a camera.
Static chimed through the earpiece.
“In position,” Remy’s voice came through.
“In position,” Leslie said.
“Begin,” Joe Chow commanded.
In the back alley of the antique shop, Leslie stood in the shadows, staring at the security camera mounted on the outer wall.
She raised her hand, her glove nearly invisible in the dark.
A slender electric arc darted from her fingertips, striking the camera lens with pinpoint accuracy.
There was no explosion, only a thin wisp of blue smoke rising from inside the lens as the red light went dark.
She took out the second camera the exact same way.
The telephone line connection was at the base of the wall.
Leslie squatted down, lightly touching the metal contacts.
A faint current surged in, frying the circuit board.
“Surveillance and communications paralyzed,” she reported softly.
“Excellent,” Joe Chow’s voice echoed through the earpiece.
“Now, add a little spice inside.” Leslie pressed her palm against the building’s exterior wall.
She closed her eyes, sensing the flow of internal circuitry.
The distribution box was in the first-floor storage room, with the main power line running through here.
*Inject current, intensity three,* she muttered internally.
A controlled surge erupted.
Inside the antique shop, every light flashed intensely and went out.
Computer screens sparked, and radios emitted ear-splitting static.
Someone cursed in Japanese in the dark.
“Chaos creation complete,” Leslie said.
“Remy, move.” In the backyard, Remy flipped over the low wall, landing without a sound.
The storage room window was unlocked—he had tampered with it earlier that afternoon.
He pushed it open and slid inside.
The room was pitch black save for the faint glow of emergency lights.
Two ninjas were fumbling in the dark for flashlights.
Remy passed behind them like a ghost.
The hidden room was behind the accounting office, its secret door concealed behind a bookshelf.
Remy found the mechanism and pressed it.
The bookshelf slid open noiselessly, revealing a small room beyond.
Ledgers were neatly stacked on the shelves, next to an iron box containing letters.
Remy flipped through them rapidly, confirmed the contents, and stuffed them all into his backpack.
In the earpiece, Joe Chow’s voice sounded: “One ninja is returning, estimated to reach the back door in one minute.
Leslie, intercept.” “Copy.” Leslie moved to the corner of the back alley.
Footsteps approached as a man in a black tracksuit rushed over, hand resting on the hilt of his katana.
He had sensed something wrong.
Just as he reached out to push open the back door, Leslie struck.
An electric arc flew out, aimed at the katana.
According to plan, she only needed to disarm him.
But she got nervous.
The current intensity exceeded target levels.
The moment it hit the blade, the metal melted through, sending half the katana clattering to the ground.
At the same time, arcs splattered across the alley, searing several burn marks into the wall.
The ninja reacted with extreme speed, instantly retreating and pulling several shuriken from his waist.
“Exposed,” Leslie said under her breath.
“Focus your energy!” Joe Chow’s voice was calm.
“Don’t panic.
Aim at the ground at his feet to create a barrier.” Leslie took a deep breath.
The jade piece inside her glove imparted a sense of stability.
She raised her hand again.
This time, the arc condensed into a thin thread, like a laser.
It struck the concrete half a meter in front of the ninja.
Gravel exploded, filling the air with dust.
Forced back, the ninja raised his arms to shield his face.
Taking advantage of the opening, Leslie turned and sprinted away, evacuating along her planned route.
Remy had already scaled the wall from the other side, his backpack stuffed full.
“Evacuation complete.” “Rendezvous at the meeting point.” Half an hour later, the three returned to the secret room beneath Renxin Clinic.
Remy dumped the contents of his backpack onto the table: three ledger books, a stack of letters, and a small hard drive.
“Good harvest,” Remy said.
“The ledgers record cash flows over the past three months.
The Foot Clan and Brad from the Wah Ching Gang had deals, laundering money through several shell companies.
And then there’s this.” He picked up a letter marked with encrypted symbols.
“It’ll take time to crack, but it mentions ‘K-Series’ cargo.
Destination is Warehouse B7 in the dock district.” Joe Chow flipped through the ledgers.
The entries were clear: date, cargo code, quantity, recipient signature.
The K-Series appeared six times, most recently five days ago.
“The Foot Clan is stockpiling,” he said.
Leslie sat in a chair and pulled off her gloves.
Her palms were sweaty.
“I blew it.
I almost exposed us.” “You didn’t blow it,” Joe Chow looked at her.
“Surveillance disabled, communications severed, internal chaos created—all three tasks were completed at one hundred percent.
As for the interception, while your control precision faltered, you adjusted in time and completed the task of driving him off.
Overall score: Good.” “Good?” “It was your first field operation; nobody expected perfection,” Joe Chow said.
“What matters is that you followed orders and made adjustments under pressure.
Emotional fluctuations still affect your output accuracy, which will be the focus of your next phase of training.” Remy grinned beside them.
“Honestly, when you melted his blade, the look on his face was priceless.
He probably thought he was up against some cutting-edge energy weapon.” Leslie didn’t smile.
“Next time, I’ll do better.” “Of course,” Joe Chow turned to Remy.
“How long will it take to analyze the details from these documents?” “The ledgers are simple; I can give you a summary tonight.
The encrypted letters are trickier—might take two or three days.
The hard drive…
depends on what’s inside.” “Prioritize the letters and the hard drive,” Joe Chow said.
“The ‘K-Series’ cargo might be the key.” Remy nodded and began organizing the materials.
Joe Chow walked over to Leslie.
“How did the gloves feel?” “They helped,” Leslie said.
“Felt much more stable.
But I still lose control when I panic.” “Then we practice more,” Joe Chow said.
“Next Thursday is the second field test.
The target will likely be Warehouse B7.
Be prepared.” Leslie stood up.
“I will.” After she left, Remy looked up.
“Boss, you’re pretty demanding with her.” “Her ability has immense potential,” Joe Chow said.
“But it needs refining.
Just like when you needed to solve your energy disorder.” “Speaking of which,” Remy moved his shoulders, “I’ve been feeling much better lately.
That painful spot on my left shoulder hasn’t flared up in a week.” “Treatment takes time,” Joe Chow said.
“Keep taking your medicine on schedule.
We’ll re-examine next month.” Remy packed up the files and left as well.
The secret room fell quiet once more.
Joe Chow sat at the workbench and opened a ledger.
The entries were clear and the numbers precise, bringing a tightly organized smuggling network to light.
The Foot Clan, the Wah Ching Gang, mysterious cargo, dock warehouses.
And off in the distance, Elektra’s investigation.