The country entrusted me to buy an aircraft carrier, Hou Liangping, do you dare to investigate?

With a deafening crash, the warehouse door was suddenly slammed open, and several dark figures rushed in. Huang Feipeng swiftly aimed at one of them and pulled the trigger. "Bang!" The bullet sliced ​​through the air, heading straight for the figure, but the man was agile and dodged to the side in an instant. The air immediately filled with the smell of gunpowder and a tense atmosphere.

"Huang Feipeng! You think you can shake us all by yourself?" The man in black's voice, tinged with mockery, echoed in the dark corner of the warehouse.

Huang Feipeng sneered, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes: "I only need one opportunity to make you all pay the price." He swiftly pulled a flashbang from his waist and hurled it towards the direction where the shadowy figures were gathering. Instantly, a blinding white light erupted in the darkness, and several men in black screamed and retreated, dropping their weapons to the ground.

Taking advantage of that instant opportunity, Huang Feipeng moved with ghostly speed, his gun steadily aimed at the chest of one of the men in black, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. "Bang!" The man groaned and fell to the ground, clutching his chest, his eyes filled with terror.

However, Huang Feipeng knew in his heart that this was only the beginning. He could sense that the number of enemies around him was far greater than he had imagined; Shadow had clearly deployed a considerable number of men to deal with him. And in a distant corner, he could even faintly perceive a pair of sharp and cold eyes watching him, as if observing his every move.

A sense of oppression gradually filled the air; every inch of the warehouse seemed teeming with murderous intent. He took a deep breath, quickly calming himself and assessing his next move. At that moment, the enemy hidden in the shadows seemed to be waiting for his opening.

"What are you waiting for?" Huang Feipeng said coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. He was highly trained in the special forces and had experienced countless life-or-death trials. The encirclement of these enemies was just another test for him.

The shadowy figure in the distance seemed enraged, and several gunshots suddenly rang out. Bullets grazed Huang Feipeng's shoulder, hitting the wooden crate beside him, sending splinters flying. Huang Feipeng swiftly dodged, feeling a burning pain in his shoulder. He cursed his bad luck inwardly, but had no intention of giving in. He crouched low, gradually approaching a corner of the warehouse; he knew that might be the only exit.

Just then, a cold female voice suddenly rang out in the warehouse: "Huang Feipeng, surrender. This is a place you can never escape from."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized the voice—the "Phantom" from the Shadows. She was a rarely seen yet extremely dangerous figure within the Shadows, her existence akin to a dark legend, inspiring fear in countless people. The fact that she had personally appeared was enough to demonstrate the Shadows' high regard for him.

Huang Feipeng stood in front of the night market stall, the aroma of grilled sausages wafting through the billowing smoke, lingering at his nose. The greasy smell instantly pulled him out of the oppressive memory of the warehouse. The shouts and noise of the surrounding crowd blended into a familiar background, and his nerves relaxed slightly. His eyes softened a little as he took the sausage from the vendor.

"Grilled sausages, three yuan, three yuan each," the vendor called out wearily, a hint of doubt in his eyes as he looked at Huang Feipeng. A trace of blood, still damp from flying debris in the warehouse, clung to his face. He hadn't cleaned it up; there wasn't enough time, and no safe place nearby for him to tend to it. The vendor didn't press him further, simply handing him the food and quickly taking the money, as if everything were perfectly normal.

Huang Feipeng took a bite of the grilled sausage, his mouth filled with the aroma of oil. The taste of the meat seemed to infuse his weariness with a touch of warmth and comfort. He savored this moment of peace, but he knew perfectly well that it was only temporary. He could almost feel the gaze from the shadows; the shadowy figures were definitely still watching him.

The scene in the warehouse flashed through his mind: Phantom's familiar yet chilling voice echoed in the darkness, her serpentine eyes sending shivers down his spine. Huang Feipeng knew she was still watching him, patiently waiting for her prey's weakness, like a hunter waiting for the right moment. It was a patient and unhurried method of surveillance, just like the strategy Phantom had used against him for years. Every step was a test, and his every move could become a clue for her next attack.

Huang Feipeng's gaze unconsciously swept across his surroundings. The people hurrying by on the street were all in a rush, their faces blurred in the dim streetlights. Huang Feipeng suddenly realized that perhaps the shadowy figure was hiding in the crowd. Was it the middle-aged man pushing his cart? Or the young man smoking by the streetlight? Or perhaps the woman by the roadside who seemed to be looking down at her phone? He wasn't sure, and he couldn't be sure.

"The Phantom's style," he thought with a cold laugh. The Phantoms were never in a hurry to drive him to his death; they always left themselves room to maneuver, like cats toying with mice. This invisible pressure and surveillance was the most troublesome, because the enemy could appear at any moment, yet was omnipresent like a shadow. Over the years, he had long since grown accustomed to being watched closely by the Phantoms, but after this warehouse incident, he felt an unprecedented sense of danger.

"Flying Peng," he called to himself softly in his heart, just as he had when he first joined the special operations team years ago. Back then, he would always encourage himself in the face of danger, calmly reminding himself: "You can't back down, you can't expose yourself, you can't give them a chance." Tonight's events clearly wouldn't end so easily; Phantom would never let him go so easily. Yet, deep down, he also vaguely understood that it was precisely this risk that was the reason he refused to leave. The thrill of fighting Phantom, the danger coming his way—that was some kind of meaning in his life.

After finishing the grilled sausage, Huang Feipeng felt a slight warmth in his heart, a fleeting comfort that calmed his mind somewhat. He crumpled the last tissue into a ball and tossed it into the trash can. He paused briefly on the street, his gaze calmly surveying his surroundings. In his mind, he began to systematically check for any possible hidden sentries.

Just as he was about to continue into the deeper alley, someone suddenly tapped him on the shoulder. His body tensed instinctively, and he turned around fiercely, only to see a thin boy standing in front of him, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"Uncle, someone asked me to give you this." The boy's voice was childish but timid, as if he was frightened by the wound on his face.