Following "The Master's" suggestion, Site-CN-02's Mobile Task Forces donned Chinese SWAT uniforms and began encircling Sanlitun.
The Site-CN-02 Security Director took field command, while "The God," Barbie, and Abel—all foreign faces—stayed out of direct oversight to avoid drawing attention.
The "SWAT teams" sealed three sides, leaving one exit open to funnel out civilians.
This first move drove out tens of thousands, but it wasn't enough.
So the Foundation escalated:
Loudspeakers blared:
"A dangerous fugitive is hiding in Sanlitun! Police will conduct a raid at 23:00! Civilians, evacuate immediately to avoid collateral damage!"
The announcement worked. Most reluctantly abandoned their nightlife, leaving only:
Drunks.
Thrill-seekers.
Actual fugitives (too scared to exit).
In Luoshu's club, 90% had cleared out—mostly staff and hired "ambiance girls" waiting for pay.
Sanlitun could no longer shield him.
As a Chinese descendant, Luoshu knew guerrilla warfare doctrine by heart:
"Enemy advances, we retreat."
"Enemy halts, we harass."
"Enemy tires, we strike."
"Enemy retreats, we pursue."
His recent Beijing-Tianjin hopscotch had been precisely that.
Now, with the Foundation's encirclement tightening, it was time for:
"Enemy advances, we retreat."
Per intel from "Bamboo Slips," Site-CN-02's entire force had converged on Sanlitun.
The raid was imminent.
Luoshu checked his phone: 22:30—the announced raid time, and his cue to retreat.
Perfect timing.
With 90 minutes until midnight, he could use:
1x Unobservability.
2x Perception Block.
Post-midnight, all abilities would reset, giving him flexibility.
The Escape
Luoshu left the club, activating Unobservability, and merged into the evacuating crowd.
The "SWAT" teams had left one exit open—a classic "three blocked, one free" tactic.
Attempting alternate routes, Luoshu found gun barrels raised the moment he stepped into open space.
Dead end.
The near-miss at Site-CN-06's entrance was fresh in his mind—no repeats.
As for teleporting behind the MTFs? Impossible.
"The God" had surely erected one-way spatial barriers.
Luoshu doubled back, blending into the crowd heading for the sole exit.
There, Abel crouched like a predator, scanning every passerby.
Barbie and "The God" stood behind him, glasses-mounted Kant Counters flashing a red marker with Luoshu's precise coordinates.
"The God" alerted the field commander:
"Target's in the crowd—the terrorist behind Tianjin Acorus Hospital's bombing."
Blame assigned.
The commander barked into a loudspeaker:
"Everyone down! The fugitive is among you! Do not move!"
MTFs leveled their guns.
Most dropped flat; a few girls screamed and bolted.
Luoshu, of course, remained standing—Unobservability should've made him invisible.
But Abel rose, drawing his sword from a spatial rift, and declared:
"You've escaped me twice. Impressive. But this time—I'm serious. You die."
The crowd whispered in confusion:
"Is this a movie shoot?"
"Look at that shirtless guy with the sword—so extra."
"Should we stay down? Or peek for camera angles?"
Barbie cringed into oblivion. Abel, however, swung his blade, carving a spatial fissure toward Luoshu.
Luoshu ducked—the attack whizzed overhead.
Old foes, predictable moves.
The "extras" gasped at the "SFX."
Then Abel adjusted his angle (guided by the glasses) and slashed downward.
Luoshu rolled aside—his enhanced Hume-boosted reflexes making it effortless.
But the crowd behind him wasn't so lucky.
Limbs flew. Blood geysered. Screams pierced the night.
Reality crashed onto the bystanders:
"This isn't special effects—it's real!"
Some froze in terror; others fled wildly; a few dove for cover.
Luoshu realized his mistake:
Abel fought without restraint.
Collateral damage meant nothing to him.
Worse—Abel's glasses were tracking him perfectly.
The Choice
Staying hidden would get more civilians killed.
Luoshu had two options:
Flee outright—risking pursuit.
Draw Abel away—saving lives but facing him head-on.
He gritted his teeth.
Time to improvise.