The rain over the National Cemetery was cold, relentless, and smelled of ozone. Under a sea of black umbrellas, the most powerful figures in the country stood in hushed silence.At the front, a massive granite monument bore a name that had once made enemies tremble across three borders: Han Ye, The Ghost Commander.Behind a row of weeping dignitaries, standing at the very edge of the mud-slicked grass, was a young man in a cheap, ill-fitting black suit. His hair was cropped short, his frame lean but coiled like a hidden spring. To anyone passing by, he looked like a distant relative or a low-level soldier paying respects to a legend.Nobody realized they were standing five feet away from the legend himself.“Commander, can you hear me?” A tiny, vibrating pulse came from a microscopic transmitter in Han Ye's inner ear. It was the voice of Blackhawk, his most loyal lieutenant.“Loud and clear,” Han Ye murmured, his lips barely moving. His eyes remained fixed on the high-definition photo

St. Jude’s International University didn't look like a school; it looked like a fortress for the gods of the modern world. Marbled archways, glass-walled laboratories, and a parking lot that resembled a supercar showroom.Han Ye stood at the main gate, holding a weathered canvas duffel bag. In a sea of tailored silk blazers and gold-trimmed crests, his off-the-rack white shirt and dark slacks made him look like a glitch in the system.“Commander, I’ve mapped the campus,” Blackhawk’s voice whispered. “The Chancellor’s office is in the North Tower. It’s guarded by Grade-S biometric locks. Also, a word of warning: the student body has already received a ‘gift’ from Wei Jun.”“A gift?” Han Ye asked, stepping onto the pristine pavement.“A digital bounty. $10,000 to the first student who makes you ‘voluntarily’ drop out today.”Han Ye’s expression didn't flicker. “Only $10,000? I’m offended.”As he walked toward the orientation hall, the whispers began. Students paused their conversations,

The digital clock on the bedside table blinked: 11:45 PM.Han Ye lay on the guest room bed in the Su family mansion, staring at the ceiling. To anyone watching, he was asleep. But his breathing was regulated, his ears tuned to the frequency of the house.“Commander,” Blackhawk’s voice cut through the silence. “Intercepted a signal. Su Qing just left the corporate headquarters. She’s heading to the West District Docks for a ‘last-minute contract meeting’ with a supplier. The caller ID is spoofed. It’s a trap.”Han Ye’s eyes snapped open. The West District Docks were abandoned years ago. It was a kill box.“Who authorized the meeting?” Han Ye whispered.“The message came from her grandfather’s personal secretary. But the IP address traces back to a burner phone registered to a shell company owned by the Wei family.”Wei Jun wasn't waiting for the 100 days. He wanted Su Qing vulnerable tonight.Han Ye sat up, sliding off the bed without making a sound. He grabbed a black hoodie and a gen

Time Remaining: 1 Hour, 55 Minutes.The "Ghost Market" of the capital wasn't on any map. Located in the labyrinthine alleyways of the Old District, it was a place where laws were suggestions and cash was king.Han Ye walked through the smog, his hood pulled low. The air smelled of sulfur, unwashed bodies, and illicit spices.“Commander,” Blackhawk’s voice was tense. “You have less than two hours before the bank seizes Su Qing’s company. You need 50 million. The only things selling for that price in this market are illegal organs or stolen military tech. Which one are we selling?”“Neither,” Han Ye said, stopping in front of a grimy stall piled high with withered roots and blackened herbs. “We’re selling trash.”The stall owner, a toothless old man, squinted at Han Ye. “Buying or looking? If you’re looking, move on. This is the reject pile. Dead Spirit Grass. Useless.”“I’ll take the whole pile,” Han Ye said, tossing a crumpled 100-yuan bill onto the table.The old man laughed, snatchi

The aftermath of the tournament was not a celebration; it was a funeral for the reputations of the elite. Lu Chen was being carted off in an ambulance, and Wei Jun had vanished from the VIP box the moment the glass shattered.Han Ye walked back to the Su family mansion alone. He didn't take the car. He needed the cold night air to settle the "Ghost" back into the "Trash."“Commander,” Blackhawk’s voice was urgent. “The pressure is working. The 'Traitor' inside the Su family has panicked. They realized that with the 50 million debt paid and the Iron Fang assassins defeated, their window is closing. They’re moving tonight.”“Location?” Han Ye asked, his eyes scanning the dark streets.“Inside the mansion. They’re going for the Grandfather’s life support and the family seal. If the Grandfather dies tonight, the 'Traitor' inherits everything by default. And Commander... it’s not who you think.”The Su Mansion – 2:00 AMThe mansion was eerily silent. The guards—bribed or incapacitated—were