Spy war in the Republic of China, peak undercover

Inside the Presidential Palace, the lights were on and there was a solemn atmosphere.

The president was sitting in his office with a frown and a gloomy face.

On the table in front of him was a document with the four big words "Spark" written on it.

"Project 'Spark'" the president muttered to himself. His voice was soft, but it carried a hint of fear that was difficult to conceal.

He knew that if this plan was leaked, it would cause a huge uproar and even overthrow the entire country's regime.

And as someone who knows about this plan, he will become the target of public criticism and everyone's enemy.

"Someone come here!" the president shouted outside the door.

A man in black immediately pushed the door open and walked in. "Mr. President, what do you want?"

"Find out!" the president shouted. "Find out who leaked the 'Spark' plan!"

"Yes!" the man in black responded, then turned around and walked out quickly.

The president watched the man in black leave with a cold look in his eyes. He knew that this matter was definitely not simple and that there must be a huge conspiracy behind him.

And he must find out the truth about this conspiracy as soon as possible, otherwise, he will be doomed.

"Lu Yang, you're here." A voice suddenly sounded behind the president.

The president turned around suddenly and saw a familiar figure.

The man was standing in front of him, holding a gun in his hand, pointing it at his head.

"Zhang Hannian?!" the president exclaimed. He could never have imagined that this person would be Zhang Hannian!

"Surprised?" Zhang Hannian smiled, his smile full of pride and cruelty. "You didn't expect that I am the real 'Zero'."

"You" President wanted to say something, but was interrupted by Zhang Hannian.

"Okay, Mr. President," Zhang Hannian said, "your game is over."

As he said this, he pulled the trigger.

"Bang!" A gunshot rang out and the president fell to the ground.

"Mr. President!" The secretary rushed in immediately after hearing the gunshots. Seeing the president lying on the ground, he shouted in horror.

"You... you dare to kill the president?!" the secretary pointed at Zhang Hannian and roared.

"So what if I kill him?" Zhang Hannian sneered, "From now on, this country is mine!"

"You, you traitor!" the secretary cursed angrily, "You will die a horrible death!"

"Traitor?" Zhang Hannian laughed heartily. "I call this a man of insight! What about you? Do you want to live or die?"

"I" the secretary hesitated. He knew that he was no match for Zhang Hannian and that if he resisted, he would die.

"If you want to live, shut up!" Zhang Hannian said, "Otherwise, I don't mind sending you down to accompany him!"

"The secretary was silent, he lowered his head and dared not speak anymore.

"Very good," Zhang Hannian nodded with satisfaction, "Now, go gather everyone together. I have something to say."

"Yes," the secretary replied, then turned and walked out of the room quickly.

Zhang Hannian watched his secretary leave with a cold look in his eyes. He knew that he had finally succeeded and that he had finally taken control of the country.

"Lu Yang," Zhang Hannian muttered to himself, "Do you really think you can stop me? You are too naive!"

The car door clicked shut, isolating him from the bustling crowd at the station. The black sedan started smoothly, blending into the shimmering neon lights of Tokyo. Lu Yang leaned back in the soft leather seat, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the handle of the gun beneath his sleeve. Behind his sunglasses, his gaze, sharp as a nighthawk, scanned the passing scenery outside the car window.

Neon signs cast blurry lines of light on the glass, illuminating his sharply defined profile, yet unable to dispel the stern, murderous look that settled between his brows. Tokyo's prosperity, to him, was but a false facade, like a sugar-coated bullet cloaked in deadly danger.

Lu Yang's fingers paused on the gun handle, as if something suddenly occurred to him. He pulled the photo from his pocket and took another look at it in the dim light of the car. The person in the photo was Zhang Hannian, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile, dressed in a suit and tie, looking like any other street vendor. But who could have imagined that hidden behind this face was the true identity of "Zero", a ruthless character capable of taking down the president with a single shot.

"Lu Yang, what are you looking at?" Qing Lan, sitting in the passenger seat, turned her head and glanced at him. She was holding an unlit cigarette in her hand, as if to relieve her boredom.

"See an old friend." Lu Yang stuffed the photo back into his arms, his voice so low that it seemed to be squeezed out of his throat, "Zhang Hannian, 'Zero', I didn't expect it to be him."

Qinglan snorted, saying nothing. She twirled the cigarette between her fingers, her gaze drifting out the window. The streets of Tokyo were bustling with people, their lights and lights blazing, and no one could tell who was human and who was a ghost. She and Lu Yang had grown accustomed to this kind of life over the years—friends today, but potentially corpses at gunpoint tomorrow.

"Old Six confessed those things," Xiao He leaned half his head out of the back seat and lowered his voice. "He said that the 'Spark' plan has been launched. Zhang Hannian has the list in his hand, and he has all the underground bases in the country in his mind. You said he killed the president, so what's the next step? -"

"Yes," Lu Yang interrupted him, "He wants to clear the place. All those who are disobedient and blocking the way will be swept away."

The car was silent for a moment, the only sound being the low hum of the engine. Xiao Jiang clenched the map in his hands, his knuckles turning white. He was the youngest and had only been with Lu Yang for a short time, but he was quite courageous. He gritted his teeth and remained silent.

"Then what should we do?" Qing Lan finally put the cigarette in his mouth, without lighting it, just holding it there. "Go to the Presidential Palace? Or go directly to Zhang Hannian?"

"It's too late at the Presidential Palace," Lu Yang sneered. "Zhang Hannian killed the president, so he certainly wouldn't be so foolish as to stay there and wait for someone to catch him. He's either moving or finding a place to hide and wait for the storm to blow over."

"Where's the list?" Xiao He asked. "Old Six said it's in Zhang Hannian's hands. If he runs away, where can we find him?"

"The list isn't important," Lu Yang said, his eyes narrowed, his tone a bit cold. "What's important is Zhang Hannian. As long as we catch him, the 'Spark' plan will be a pile of waste paper."

The car turned into a narrow alley, its neon lights blocked by high walls, and the surroundings suddenly darkened. The driver was a taciturn local, whom Lu Yang had brought from Suzhou. His eyes were devoid of any unnecessary emotion, and he simply drove. Lu Yang leaned against the car window, his mind racing. Zhang Hannian was as cunning as an old fox. He must have had a plan for his escape after killing the president. But no matter how cunning he was, he still needed a place to stay.

"Stop the car." Lu Yang suddenly said.

The driver slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a steady stop deep in the alley. Lu Yang pushed open the door and stepped out. The night breeze, damp and tinged with the salty air of Tokyo Bay, blew in his face. He stood at the entrance of the alley and lit a cigarette. The flame flickered across his face, illuminating the coldness in his eyes.

"You three wait here," Lu Yang exhaled a puff of cigarette, "I'm going to meet an old acquaintance."

"Who?" Qinglan frowned and subconsciously reached for the gun at his waist.

"A tipster," Lu Yang flicked the ash from his cigarette. "He showed me the way back in Nanjing. He's got a pretty good nose. If Zhang Hannian were to end up in Tokyo, he'd definitely know something."

"Are you going alone?" Qing Lan was worried, "What if there's an ambush—"

"I can run even if there's an ambush," Lu Yang smiled, a little coldly, "You guys stay here and keep an eye on us. Don't let anyone catch up."

After saying this, he put out his cigarette, turned around and walked deeper into the alley. His figure disappeared into the darkness, like a drop of water melting into the night.

At the end of the alley was a small, unassuming tavern. Hanging on the door was a tattered wooden board with the words "Yamadaya" written on it. The handwriting was crooked, as if it had been written by a drunk. Lu Yang pushed the door open. Inside, smoke filled the air. Several drunks slumped over tables, mumbling indistinct Japanese. Behind the bar stood a thin, bamboo-thin old man, his graying hair a mess, wiping a glass with a dirty rag.

"Yamada," Lu Yang walked to the bar and said in a neither loud nor low voice, "Long time no see."

The old man looked up at him, his hands still moving. "Lu Yang? Why are you here again? After you left last time, the military police turned my place upside down."

"The military police raiding your place has nothing to do with me," Lu Yang pulled a stool and sat down. "I came here today to ask you something."

"What do you want to ask?" Yamada put the cup on the table with a wary look in his eyes.

"Zhang Hannian," Lu Yang stared at him, "Where is he?"

Yamada's expression changed, and his fingers trembled unconsciously. "Zhang Hannian? You mean that big shot? How would I know that?"

"Don't pretend," Lu Yang took out a stack of Japanese yen from his pocket and threw it on the bar. "Your nose is sharper than a dog's. If Zhang Hannian came to Tokyo, you would have heard about it."

Yamada stared at the stack of money, his eyes rolling around twice before finally sighing. "Okay, I knew I couldn't hide it from you. Last night, someone saw a guy in a suit and a few of his men heading to the port area. There's an old warehouse there that's usually deserted, but lately, there have been a few unfamiliar faces."

"Port area?" Lu Yang frowned, "Be more specific."

"It's not far from the dock, in the third warehouse," Yamada said in a low voice, "but I advise you not to go there. It's a very evil place. Few people who go in come out alive."

Lu Yang said nothing, stood up, and pushed the money in front of Yamada. "Thank you."

"Hey, Lu Yang," Yamada called him, "Are you really going?"

"Yes." Lu Yang said without turning his head.

"Then be careful," Yamada muttered, "Don't die there. I'm counting on you to come back and take care of business next time."

Lu Yang pushed the door open, the night breeze dispelling the smoke from the room. He stood at the doorway, lighting a cigarette, the flames illuminating his stern face. He knew that the warehouse in the harbor was most likely Zhang Hannian's lair. This time, he would either capture "Zero" or die there.

Port area, third warehouse.

The night was as dark as ink. The rusty iron door of the warehouse creaked in the wind. Zhang Hannian stood by the second-floor window, a glass of wine in hand, his eyes fixed on the distance. Behind him, several men in black moved back and forth. Occasionally, gunshots could be heard from afar, quickly blown away by the wind.

"Lu Yang," Zhang Hannian took a sip of wine and muttered to himself, "You've come at the perfect time. I want to see if you can walk out alive this time."

He turned around and waved to one of his men. "Go, get the stuff ready. Tonight, I'm going to show Lu Yang what a real 'fire' is."

The men nodded and ran out quickly. Zhang Hannian looked at the night outside the window, a sneer on his face. He knew that Lu Yang would come, and he had to come.

Because this is the "zero" game, a game that no one can escape from.

Lu Yang returned to the alley entrance. The black car was still parked there, a silent shadow. Qinglan leaned against the car door, a half-burned cigarette in her hand, its sparks flickering in the night. Xiaohe and Xiaojiang sat in the car, one staring out the window, the other lowered, cleaning his gun. The atmosphere was as tense as a fully drawn bowstring.

"How is it?" Qinglan saw Lu Yang, put out his cigarette and stood up straight.

"I found the place," Lu Yang opened the car door and got in. "Port area, third warehouse. Zhang Hannian is probably there."

"The port area?" Xiao He frowned. "That's right next to the docks. The terrain is complicated. There are boat operators, thugs, and even Japanese spies. It's a mess."

"Chaos is good," Lu Yang sneered. "Zhang Hannian chose that place because he wanted to hide there. But he forgot that a chaotic place is also convenient for us to take action."

"Then when are we going?" Xiao Jiang raised his head, his voice filled with unconcealable excitement.

"Let's go now," Lu Yang pulled out a gun from his waist and checked the magazine, "We must get rid of him before daybreak."

Qinglan nodded without saying anything more. She patted the driver's shoulder, and the car started silently, turning out of the alley and heading towards the port area. Outside the car window, the neon lights of Tokyo gradually faded, replaced by low-rise buildings along the docks and the fishy smell of the sea breeze. Lu Yang leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, but his mind kept going over his plans for tonight over and over again.

Zhang Hannian was incredibly cunning. He was able to find his whereabouts so quickly after killing the president. He must have been well prepared. There was most likely an ambush in that warehouse, perhaps even a trap. But Lu Yang had no choice. The "Spark" plan had already been launched. Every day of delay meant the death of not just one person, but a whole group of people, perhaps even an entire country.

The car was parked at the edge of the port area, two blocks away from the third warehouse. Lu Yang opened the door and signaled the driver to turn off the engine. "Go through here. Don't startle anyone."

The four men got out of the car and, in the darkness, groped their way along the wall. The wind was strong near the dock, carrying the dampness of the sea, making their faces stiffen. Xiao He carried a rifle on his back, Xiao Jiang clutched a dagger, and Qing Lan followed Lu Yang, his pistol loaded. No one spoke, only the sound of footsteps carried away by the wind.

The third warehouse was just ahead, squatting in the darkness like a monster with its mouth gaping. The iron gate was half-open, letting in a dim light and the faint sound of human voices. Lu Yang stopped, squatted in the corner, and peered inside.

"There are people," he lowered his voice, "at least seven or eight, and there are two sentries at the door."

"Force your way in?" Qinglan asked.

"No," Lu Yang shook his head. "There are too many people. If they alarm Zhang Hannian, he'll run away. We have to go separately."

"How to divide it?" Xiaohe asked.

"You and Xiao Jiang go around from the left, find a high point, and keep an eye on the door," Lu Yang pointed to the water tower next to the warehouse, "Qing Lan and I will sneak in from the right and look for Zhang Hannian."

"Okay," Xiaohe nodded, pulled Xiaojiang and ran towards the water tower with their backs bent.

Lu Yang glanced at Qing Lan, and without further ado, they skirted the wall to the right. A pile of broken wooden crates and rusty iron barrels sat beside the warehouse, emitting a fishy odor. Lu Yang sifted through a pile of debris and found a half-collapsed side door, a glimmer of light leaking through the crack. He pulled out his dagger, gently pried the lock, and pushed the door open.

Inside was a hall piled high with cargo boxes, the air thick with the smell of mold and motor oil. Several men in black stood with their backs to the door, whispering something, weapons clutched in their hands. Lu Yang and Qing Lan clung to the wall, using the shadows of the boxes to move forward. He heard one of the men mutter, "That kid Lu Yang is so brave! The boss said he's going to kill him tonight."

Lu Yang sneered, his mind welling up. Zhang Hannian was indeed there, waiting for him to come knocking. He gestured to Qinglan, and the two of them, one on each side, quietly approached the group.

"Who!" A man in black suddenly turned around and saw a shadow in the corner with his sharp eyes.