The sky over the city remained as clear as ever, and the streets buzzed with people as they had in the past. After the fall of "Dark Abyss," Lu Chenzhou and Su Wanqing thought they could finally breathe a little—if only for a short moment. But reality has a way of shattering illusions.
At 4 a.m., Su Wanqing was jolted awake by a sudden phone call.
"Wanqing, there's been a series of explosions in the city. Preliminary assessment points to foul play. The bureau wants you on site immediately."
She sat up in bed, rubbed her temples, and saw the flashing red emergency alert on her phone. Her heart sank. Minutes later, she had changed, slung her emergency kit over her shoulder, and rushed out. As she came downstairs, she saw Lu Chenzhou already in the car, engine running.
"You got the call too?" she asked as she got in.
"I was ten minutes ahead of you." He glanced at her, his tone grave. "Three explosions in one night. No warnings, no demands. The only thing they have in common is a card left at each site."
"A card?"
"Yeah. With a strange symbol on it." He handed her a photocopy.
Su Wanqing took it, her brow instantly furrowing.
It was a black card with white print, coarse in texture. In the center was a bizarre symbol—an eye-like figure composed of interwoven rings and arrows. Around it were lines of cryptic runes in an unknown script, resembling incantations.
"It's not any known language, nor like any threat letter we've seen," she murmured. "This seems more like... some kind of ritual symbol."
The car sped through the deserted streets. Soon, they arrived at the first crime scene: an abandoned office building.
The explosion had blown off nearly the entire second floor. The ground was charred, and the air reeked of gunpowder and scorched metal. It was nauseating. The fire department had cleared the site, and forensic techs had cordoned off the critical areas.
"Any casualties?" Su Wanqing asked.
"No bodies or injuries found," replied a technician. "But oddly, each blast site seems to have deliberately avoided densely populated areas."
"You mean…" Lu Chenzhou frowned, "the bomber didn't actually intend to kill?"
"So far, it looks more like a warning or a performance," the technician said with a bitter smile. "And this card appeared at all three sites. Placed precisely in blind spots of surveillance cameras—no fingerprints, no DNA."
Su Wanqing fell silent, staring at the blast center. The ground showed a pattern of burn marks spreading like a fan—suggesting a directional explosive. She stepped closer, crouched down, and picked up a metal fragment with tweezers.
"This is from a new type of explosive. Complex structure. Not the kind found on the black market," she analyzed. "The maker has high-level expertise, possibly military background."
"But why not kill?" Lu Chenzhou fixed his gaze on the card. "Unless... this is just the warm-up."
That night, Su Wanqing dug through massive databases, trying to decode the symbols on the card. Eventually, in an old cryptology book, she found a similar symbol. It was the emblem of a secret organization from the 19th century—The Circle of Mirage—rumored to have vanished mysteriously. Its members believed in "creating order through chaos" and were skilled in using explosions, psychological manipulation, and fear to achieve their ends.
"'The Circle of Mirage'?" Lu Chenzhou's expression darkened as he watched her flip through the records. "You think... they're back?"
"Or," Su Wanqing replied calmly, "someone has inherited their ideology and is using it to start a new wave of experimental crimes."
In the following days, tension hung heavy over the police department. Su Wanqing and Lu Chenzhou stayed up night after night, analyzing symbols, maps, and explosion patterns—but clues remained elusive. Then, the fourth explosion broke the silence.
This time, the target was a suburban library. It detonated precisely at 3 a.m.
Again—no casualties. Again—the same card left behind.
But this time, surveillance finally captured a blurry figure.
Dressed in a black trench coat and hood, the suspect moved with swift precision. The face was obscured. But just before placing the card, the person turned and looked directly at the camera—as if deliberately leaving a trail.
"He's taunting us," Lu Chenzhou said, his voice like cold steel.
"He knows we're tracking him—and he wants us to," Su Wanqing calmly assessed. "This is a game. He's set the pieces, and now he's drawing us into his design."
"Even more hidden, even smarter than 'Dark Abyss,'" Lu Chenzhou muttered. "But we can't back down."
"This is just the beginning," Su Wanqing said, her gaze sharp as she stared at the symbol on the card. "We've stepped into a new battle. And this time, the enemy is more cunning—more deranged."
Outside, morning sunlight finally streamed into the police station. Golden light spilled across the two of them, but they both knew—
The storm wasn't over.The real showdown had only just begun.