At nine sharp in the evening, Warehouse B7 in the docks district stood in the darkness like a silent tombstone.
Zhou Mo sat in a panel truck four hundred meters away, three monitors spread out in front of him.
The screen on the left displayed a thermal imaging map of the warehouse, showing eleven heat signatures on the move.
The middle screen showed a real-time feed from Remy’s helmet camera.
The right screen tracked Leslie’s location and status.
“Everyone, final check,” Zhou Mo said into his microphone.
“Leslie in position,” came her reply, accompanied by a faint crackle of static.
“Perimeter of the target building, fifty meters out.” “Remy in position,” came the second voice.
“Entrance to the western ventilation duct.
Guard patrol interval is two minutes and thirty seconds.” “Mission change,” Zhou Mo declared.
“The original plan for reconnaissance and evidence collection is canceled.
New objective: eliminate all personnel inside the warehouse and thoroughly destroy the facility.
Leslie, you will cause a blackout and trigger a short circuit to create an ignition point.
Remy, infiltrate and clear all guards, prioritizing your own safety.” A brief silence followed.
“Eliminate?” Leslie asked.
“Everyone,” Zhou Mo said in a steady voice.
“Nothing inside that warehouse can be left intact.
Begin the operation.” Leslie raised both hands, the jade slabs on her gloves glowing faintly.
She drew a deep breath, channeling the energy within her body to a single focal point.
It was not an offensive electric arc, but a high-frequency electromagnetic pulse.
An invisible wave expanded outward.
Every light in the warehouse went out in an instant.
On the thermal imaging map, the electronic heat sources disappeared one by one.
Security cameras, alarms, and two-way radios all failed simultaneously.
“Blackout complete,” Leslie reported.
Remy slid down through the ventilation duct, landing without a sound.
The interior of the warehouse was pitch-black, save for the faint green glow of an emergency exit sign.
He scanned the area through his night-vision goggles.
Two ninjas were running from the direction of the power distribution room, their flashlight beams waving wildly.
Remy raised his hand and flicked two playing cards through the air.
They were not explosive cards, but razor-sharp cutting cards.
The first sliced across a throat; the second drove straight into a heart.
Both men collapsed almost simultaneously, dying before they could even scream.
“Two eliminated,” Remy whispered, advancing deeper.
The warehouse was split into an outer and inner section.
The outer section stored conventional cargo, while the inner section was secured behind a reinforced access door.
Remy forced the lock with hydraulic shears and pushed the door open.
Then he froze.
There were no cargo racks in the inner section.
Instead, rows of cultivation tanks filled the space.
Immense cylindrical glass containers held indescribable organisms suspended in fluid: streamlined skulls, metallic-sheened exoskeletons, and sharp barbs at the ends of their tails.
Some were complete specimens, while others still twitched faintly.
Xenomorphs.
There were at least twenty specimens, along with five incubation tanks holding living embryos pulsing slowly inside nutrient fluid.
“Boss,” Remy’s voice went tight.
“You’d better see this.” Zhou Mo’s eyes narrowed as he watched the feed on his screen.
“Weyland-Yutani’s biological weapons research.
Remy, scan all electronic records.
Do not touch any physical samples.” “Understood.” Remy pulled out a portable scanner and hooked it into the nearest control terminal.
Data began to transfer.
Right then, four figures stepped out from the shadows deep within the inner section.
The lead ninja was tall and unmasked, a jagged scar running from his forehead to his chin.
A Chunin.
“Intruders,” Scarface muttered in Japanese, his hand dropping to his sword hilt.
The three ninjas behind him fanned out, forming a pincer maneuver.
“Remy, you’ve been spotted,” Zhou Mo said.
“Leslie, prepare to support.” Remy stowed his scanner, took a step back, and flung three cards at once.
They were explosive cards, but he intentionally threw them wide, striking the support frames of the surrounding cultivation tanks.
The metal frames shattered under the blast.
Two incubation tanks tipped over, glass fracturing as nutrient fluid and embryos spilled across the floor.
“Bastard!” Scarface drew his blade and charged.
Remy sidestepped the initial slash, but the second cut grazed his ribs, slicing open his tactical suit.
Rolling away to gain distance, he hurled a barrage of cards.
However, the four ninjas coordinated seamlessly—two pinned Remy down while the other two flanked him from behind.
“Leslie, now!” Zhou Mo commanded.
Four small holes suddenly blew open in the warehouse ceiling.
Four arcs of electricity descended with pinpoint accuracy like spears of lightning.
The first arc struck a flanking ninja in the shoulder, sending him to the ground with a bloodcurdling scream.
The second arc missed slightly, scorching a dark trench into the concrete floor.
The third and fourth struck the remaining two simultaneously.
One twitched violently as lightnings enveloped him, while the other tried to parry with his blade, only for the steel to melt instantly.
“Seventy percent hit rate,” Zhou Mo recorded inside the truck.
“Emotional fluctuation caused the second shot to stray, but she adjusted quickly.” Outside the wall, Leslie leaned against the brick, gasping for air as the jade slabs on her gloves grew scorching hot.
Delivering successive precision strikes was far more taxing on her mind than she had anticipated.
Inside, seeing his subordinates fall, Scarface roared and pounced on Remy.
His blade wove a web of steel, forcing Remy to retreat repeatedly, taking two more cuts in the process.
Just as the point of the sword was about to pierce Remy’s throat, he suddenly raised a hand, a card pinched between his fingers.
Instead of throwing it, he pressed it directly against the flat of the blade.
An explosion detonated.
The sword shattered into a cloud of shrapnel.
Scarface was knocked back by the blast wave, his hands dripping with blood.
Remy seized the opening, lunging forward as another card sliced across the man’s throat.
The fight was over.
Remy leaned against the wall, panting as he inspected his wounds.
The cut on his ribs was relatively deep, but the rest were superficial.
“Data scan complete,” he reported.
“Good job,” Zhou Mo replied.
“Now begin clearing the evidence.
Leslie, create short circuits at the power distribution box and the cultivation tank power supplies to start a fire.
Keep the spread under control.” Leslie pressed her hands against the outer wall once more.
This time, it was not a pulse, but a sustained output of current.
She located the path of the main power cable and overloaded it.
Inside the warehouse, sparks showered from the distribution box as the insulation on the wires caught fire.
The backup power supplies for the incubation tanks shorted out next, sending electrical sparks showering onto the spilled nutrient fluid.
Flames burst to life.
Inside the panel truck, Zhou Mo closed his eyes.
*Reversing Wind and Fire* activated.
It did not generate flames out of nothing; it guided them.
The air currents inside the warehouse began to move according to his divine will.
Oxygen surged toward the ignition points, and the superheated air generated by the combustion was drawn upward, creating a chimney effect.
The fire intensified rapidly, yet it was precisely contained within the boundaries of the warehouse, prevented from spreading outward.
“Time to withdraw,” Zhou Mo said.
Remy and Leslie rendezvoused at the designated location.
Zhou Mo picked them up in the truck and drove away from the docklands.
In the rearview mirror, Warehouse B7 had transformed into a towering torch, its flames twisting and rising into the night sky.
*** At two in the morning, inside the secret room of Renxin Hall.
Remy’s wounds had been stitched and bandaged.
Leslie sat in a chair, her gloves resting on the table; small, faint hairline cracks had appeared on the surface of the jade slabs.
“Preliminary analysis of the cloud data is complete,” Remy reported as he operated his computer.
“The Foot Clan is indeed collaborating with Weyland-Yutani.
The K-series shipments were Xenomorph specimens and live embryos.
That warehouse was their West Coast transfer station; they originally planned to transport the batch to a private lab in Nevada next week.” Zhou Mo looked at the images of those creatures on the screen.
“The Foot Clan handles transport and security, while Weyland-Yutani provides the technology and funding.
A textbook black-market bio-weapons trade.” “Those things…” Leslie spoke, her voice somewhat rasp.
“Were they still alive?” “The ones in the incubation tanks were embryos,” Remy said.
“The specimens were dead.
Though from what I hear, adult Xenomorphs are extremely nasty—fast, with highly corrosive blood, and exoskeletons capable of deflecting small-caliber rounds.” “Which means your explosives were timely today,” Zhou Mo said to Remy.
“If those embryos had been allowed to mature, all of San Francisco could have been endangered.” Leslie stared down at her hands.
“I struck those ninjas with lightning.
But when I saw the things inside those tanks…
I almost lost control.” “Except you held it together,” Zhou Mo said.
“That is what matters.
When facing non-human threats, maintaining your sanity is far more vital than unleashing raw power.” He turned to Remy.
“How are your injuries?” “I’ll be fine in a week.” Remy stretched his shoulder slightly.
“Though, Boss, this was no small commotion.
The Foot Clan won’t let this slide.” “Which is why they need a plausible explanation,” Zhou Mo said.
“Spread word through underground channels that the warehouse was purged internally due to a hazardous material experiment accident.
Keep the details vague, but point the finger toward an operational error by Weyland-Yutani.” “Frame them?” “Confound them,” Zhou Mo corrected.
“Let the Foot Clan and Weyland-Yutani suspect each other.
That will buy us time.” Leslie stood up.
“I need new gloves.
The jade slabs are cracked.” “I’ll have them ready for you tomorrow,” Zhou Mo said.
“Go get some rest.
You did well today.” After Leslie left, Remy also took his leave.
Zhou Mo remained alone in the secret room.
He turned on the television and switched to the local news channel.
At 3:15 AM, a breaking news banner appeared: *A fire broke out in an abandoned warehouse in the docks district.
Fire departments have brought the blaze under control.
Preliminary investigations suggest aging wiring as the cause.
No casualties reported, and further details remain under investigation.* No mention of Xenomorphs, no mention of ninjas, no mention of anything unusual.
A perfect accident.
Zhou Mo switched off the TV and walked over to the window.
The San Francisco night was as tranquil as ever, but only he knew that a dark, hidden corner of it had just been purified by fire.
“Next time,” he murmured softly to himself, “we ought to discuss how to deal with non-carbon-based lifeforms.”