Chapter 620: Is There Still Any Objection?
Chapter 620: Is There Still Any Objection?
Several drones flew closer, but before they could capture what was inside the crater—before anyone in the Grand Fortune’s command hall could even catch a clear glimpse of An Ran—a volley of throwing knives shot out from within, slicing the drones into pieces.
One by one, the surveillance feeds dissolved into static. The images on the command wall blurred, screens flickering into snow.
Chen Chaofa stared at the distortion, a sneer tugging at his lips. “You saw it, didn’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice sharp as glass. “That woman’s eyes. You all saw them. If we’re going to kill—then we kill thoroughly. Afraid of retaliation? Then wipe out everyone capable of it.”
“Are you killing people, or killing wolves?” someone asked from the side.
“Old Chen, we all know you think Jiang Peng and Tang Siluo are hiding in Hexi,” another spoke up nervously. “But we don’t have proof, do we?”
“Right—without proof, it’s hard to justify continuing this.”
“Forget it, Old Chen. There are still a lot of people alive down there. Let it go.”
“I object to continuing the bombing,” said one of the survivor-team leaders, stepping forward. His voice was firm, though his hands trembled slightly. “You’re committing a sin, Chen Chaofa. You know that?”
He looked around the room. “We don’t have any quarrel with those people under the ice. Survival’s already hard enough. Look at the feed—there are children down there, crying. Why do this? It’s not like they’re competing for your supplies. We have food here. Let them live.”
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Then Chen Chaofa moved.
He placed a hand lightly on the man’s shoulder. “I see,” he said softly.
Before anyone could react, he pulled a thin blade from his sleeve and slashed the man’s throat in one clean motion.
The captain’s eyes bulged. He clutched his neck, blood gushing between his fingers, and stumbled backward, spinning before collapsing in a heap.
For several seconds, no one spoke. Even Wu Simiao froze midstep, horror widening his eyes as the man bled out at their feet.
Chen Chaofa turned slowly, surveying the room. His voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with madness.
“Anyone else object?”
No one answered. No one dared to.
Satisfied, Chen Chaofa’s mouth twisted into something like a smile. The dying captain gave a final shudder and went still. Chen Chaofa stepped over the body, his boots leaving crimson prints across the polished marble floor.
“Keep bombing,” he said coldly as he walked out the door.
Over Hexi, the drones resumed their search, circling the shattered ice, trying to get a new angle on An Ran’s position. But from behind them, the ice cracked with a thunderous snap. Zhan Lian leapt out, knives flashing in both hands. Two quick swipes—and the drones fell from the sky like crushed insects.
High above, the bombers circled again.
The pilots had just received new orders: Chen Chaofa wanted the strikes to continue. The targeting systems locked onto the coordinates of the massive cave where An Ran stood.
But before they could release their payloads, something stirred below.
A man in a black down jacket crawled from the hole in the ice. Behind him burst a blood-red, skinless tendril—the bud of a flesh flower—growing at a pace that defied reason.
It pulsed, writhed, and stretched upward, swelling larger with every beat, as if something monstrous had awakened from beneath the earth.