“Chief, is it true? Are my wife and daughter really still alive?”
Hearing the chief’s words, Yan Zhenyi’s pupils constricted sharply. Without hesitation, he pressed for answers.
The chief nodded, his tone firm.
“Yes, your wife and daughter are alive.”
Still unclear about how the chief had obtained this information, Yan Zhenyi followed up.
“But how did you find out?”
“Take a look at this.”
Pulling out his phone, the chief opened a screenshot and handed it to Yan Zhenyi.
At this, Yan Zhenyi took the phone and examined the image.
In it, a young man with a cocky demeanor—dressed in flashy clothes, mouth wide open in laughter—was clearly taking a selfie. His face was unnaturally pale.
At first, Yan Zhenyi was puzzled. But with years of criminal investigation experience, he soon shifted his focus to the people behind the young man.
Then, he spotted them—a mother and daughter huddled together in the crowd. The moment he recognized them as his own wife and daughter, his breathing grew ragged.
“Chief, is this a photo taken in the waiting room right now?” he asked urgently.
The chief shook his head.
“No, it’s a screenshot from a livestream.”
“A livestream? Chief, are you telling me the terrorists controlling those monsters are broadcasting from the waiting room?”
The chief confirmed with a nod.
“Yes, they’re livestreaming from inside.”
“Why haven’t we cut the signal to stop them? Letting this continue will cause massive problems.”
Faced with Yan Zhenyi’s sharp question, the chief sighed helplessly.
“Because they’ve threatened that if we disrupt their signal or restrict their stream’s reach, they’ll execute a hostage every minute until the connection is restored.”
Beside Yan Zhenyi, Sun Tao couldn’t hold back his frustration.
“Damn it! Using hostages to blackmail us—these terrorists are scum.”
Unlike his hot-tempered colleague, Yan Zhenyi didn’t waste time cursing. Now that he understood why the livestream was still up and had confirmed the screenshot’s authenticity, he turned to the chief—and the woman who had been studying him since she entered.
“Chief, you didn’t come here just to tell me my family’s alive, did you?”
The chief didn’t bother hiding it.
“Xiao Yan, you’re right. There’s more.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “Let me introduce—”
But before he could finish, the woman—now certain Yan Zhenyi fit their requirements—stepped forward, cutting him off. She extended her hand.
“Hello, Officer Yan. I’m Shen An’an, a member of the National Security Bureau’s Special Response Team.”
Yan Zhenyi glanced at the chief, noting his lack of irritation at the interruption, before shaking her hand.
“Hello, Ms. Shen.”
Once their hands parted, Shen An’an—aware of the urgency—got straight to the point.
“Officer Yan, our team has devised a detailed rescue plan for the hostages trapped by the cultists in the waiting room. It’s already been approved by higher-ups, but to pull it off, we need your help.”
Without hesitation, Yan Zhenyi replied,
“If it means saving those people, I’ll do whatever’s necessary.”
Shen An’an smiled in relief.
“Good.”
“What exactly do you need me to do?”
“We need you to be someone’s stand-in.”
“A stand-in? For who?”
Her expression turning serious, Shen An’an answered,
“The bishop of the Flamelord Cult, Kahn.”
……
“It’s been half a day, and these sinners outside still haven’t responded. They clearly don’t respect our order.”
One of the Flamelord cultists involved in the attack on Fengcheng Station glared at the authorities surrounding the building, his face devoid of fear. To his companion, he grumbled in dissatisfaction.
“Yeah. Why don’t we ‘purify’ a few sinners to light a fire under them?”
“Good idea. But we’ll need the priest’s permission.”
“Then let’s go ask him. I’m sure he’ll agree.”
Having made up their minds, the two cultists—convinced their order was being disrespected—approached the priest, the mastermind behind this operation.
“Reverend, the sinners outside are ignoring us. Grant me permission to purify a few—to force their hand.”
The priest, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them. Earlier, he had used a relic to command a flame demon, driving Yan Qi and her mother into the waiting room.
“Hmm. You may purify them—but keep the numbers in check.”
Having anticipated his approval, the two cultists exchanged faint smiles.
After thanking him, they turned and strode toward the nearly thousand hostages they had gathered, scanning for “sinners” who displeased them.
“You—the rich fat bastard, come out here”
The more hot-tempered of the two pointed at a portly middle-aged man clad in gold and silver, his wealth obvious at a glance.
Trembling, the man stood and shuffled out from the crowd, knowing better than to resist.