Chapter 12
"Ironclaw."
"Yes, sir!"
"Iron Bear Squad, gear up. Come with me. We'll clear out Chinatown first, then launch a surprise attack on the Assassin Alliance's San Francisco branch."
Damien stood up and adjusted his trench coat collar.
"Yes, sir!"
Damien turned off the projection and picked up an old-style flip phone.
He dialed a number. After three rings, someone picked up.
"Who's this?" a hoarse male voice came through, mixed with loud music in the background.
"Me," Damien said in reply .
"Holy shit! Boss, you're alive!"
The man's voice shot up instantly, filled with joy.
Ghosthand—the biggest information broker in San Francisco's underground world, and also North America's largest black market arms dealer.
Five years ago, when Damien first came overseas, the two had formed a life-or-death bond on the battlefield.
Damien looked at the street scenes flashing by outside the window. "I'm back. Need to borrow some stuff from you now."
Ghosthand rubbed his hands excitedly on the other end.
"Name it. What do you need me to do? As long as it's not bombing the Pentagon, Ghosthand's all in!"
"Deploy troops to lock down three blocks around Seventh Avenue in Chinatown."
"Cut all communications and surveillance networks there. No one gets in or out,"
Damien's tone was calm. "Also, watch the airport and port for me. Ares from Celestial Temple is arriving soon."
"The moment he lands, I want all his movements and information."
"Celestial Temple? That battle maniac Ares? Boss, what the hell did you do these past few years—go train or dig up someone's ancestral grave?"
"You come back and start this big of an operation right away. Those Assassin Alliance guys are running wild all over the world right now."
Ghosthand sucked in a sharp breath.
"You scared?"
"Scared of what! I've been playing the coward for years—I'm sick of it. " he shot back." Give me twenty minutes. I'll make sure not even a fly can get out of Seventh Avenue."
"But boss, the ammunition costs this time..."
Ghosthand got excited for a moment, then chuckled.
"The vault at the Assassin Alliance's San Francisco branch is yours," Damien replied.
"Deal! Happy hunting. Oh, and boss, here's some free intel."
"Shadowblade, one of the twelve SSS-level assassins on the Assassin Alliance Council, entered the country yesterday. That bastard specializes in assassination. Watch your back."
"If he dares go to Safe House Number One, Falcon will teach him some manners," Damien said, then hung up.
Fifteen minutes later.
The convoy stopped in front of the archway at Seventh Avenue in Chinatown.
The usually bustling streets of Chinatown were completely silent. All the shops along the street had their doors tightly shut.
Ghosthand's people worked fast—power to the entire street had already been cut.
Damien pushed open the car door and stepped onto the wet street.
Ironclaw led fifty fully armed Iron Bear assassins, who silently spread out to seal off both ends of the street.
Damien walked straight toward a restaurant called Dragon Gate Inn at the corner.
The rolling shutter was locked tight, and a faint smell of blood seeped through the gap.
Damien lifted his leg and kicked it open.
The rolling shutter flew open along with the glass door inside, shattering glass all over the floor.
Damien strode in. The restaurant lobby was a mess—tables and chairs overturned, three bodies lying on the ground.
Ironclaw stepped forward to check. "Lord, these are the scouts we sent. All dead. The killer was a top expert,"
Damien didn't look at the bodies on the ground and walked straight to the kitchen.
The air in the kitchen was thick with the strong smell of disinfectant, masking the blood. Damien walked to the freezer.
He grabbed the handle and moved the freezer aside with one hand, revealing a keypad-secured door on the wall.
It had clearly been blown open with a small bomb. Damien followed the stairs down to the basement. The underground space was huge.
Though it was filled with advanced medical equipment, the lighting inside was dim.
On the operating table in the center lay a woman's body—the restaurant owner's wife.
She had been gutted, her death extremely gruesome.
Damien walked to the operating table, his gaze falling on the refrigerated cabinet nearby. The glass door was wide open, its contents already taken.
Ironclaw followed him down. Seeing this scene, his face changed drastically.
He quickly operated the control panel, pulling up some remaining data.
"Lord, all the blood bags here have been taken. According to the equipment records, the owner's wife had been secretly withdrawing and storing her own blood."
"And this data shows they were conducting some kind of genetic experiment. Rh-null blood was essential."
"What they're really looking for is some special antibody hidden in the blood!"
Damien looked at the remaining data on the control panel.
The screen showed jumping gene sequence comparison charts. It seemed they were just one crucial step away from conducting the experiment—they still needed Rh-null blood.
The owner's wife had been undercover for five years, withdrawing her own blood to provide fake samples and get by, until she was exposed and silenced.
Their real target, from beginning to end, had always been Sophia and Faye's Rh-null blood.
A rapid electronic beeping came from under the operating table, growing faster and faster.
Ironclaw suddenly looked down—three high-explosive C4 charges were strapped to the base of the operating table, the red countdown showing only ten seconds left.
"Go!" Damien reacted instantly, turning toward the exit.
Ironclaw immediately turned around and ran for the exit, the two rushing out one after the other.
A massive explosion erupted behind them, and the Dragon Gate Inn turned into rubble.
Damien brushed the dust off his trench coat. Someone clearly wanted to destroy all evidence and stop them from investigating further.
As he stared at the ruins, lost in thought, his phone rang, interrupting Damien's thoughts. Damien pressed the answer button.
"Damien, do you like this welcome gift?"
A harsh voice came through the phone, mixed with the roar of helicopter rotors.
"Ares," Damien murmured; he hadn't expected him to dare call at a time like this.
Damien's eyes immediately met Ironclaw's. Ironclaw understood at once, unlocked his phone and started operating it, quickly locking onto Ares's location.
"Looks like you really love this gift," Ares laughed loudly.
"But Damien, I'd really love to get your daughter's blood too. If you'd been a step later, would your daughter have been drained dry already?"
Ares's words made Damien's face darken.
"You talk too much," Damien hung up.
He turned the tactical watch on his wrist, switching to the Shadow Sect internal channel.
"Rage Tiger."
"Lord, Tiger Strike Squad is in position!" Rage Tiger's voice was full of fighting spirit.
"Ares is at the West District dock. No reconnaissance, no probing."
"Release all heavy firepower. I want him dead the moment he lands," Damien ordered.
"Yes, sir!"
Damien turned to Ironclaw. "All Iron Bears in the vehicles. Target: West District dock. Cut off his escape routes."
The convoy sped through the rainy night like lightning, heading straight for the West District.
At the West District dock.
Three heavily armed helicopters had just landed. Ares, wearing heavy armor, walked down the gangway.
Behind him were a hundred fully armed Celestial Temple guards.