7:00 PM.
Under a river-crossing bridge in the southern part of the capital, figures emerged one after another from the water. Among them, a short-haired Black man appeared to be the leader of the group.
After scanning the area to confirm no one was missing, he turned to the only woman in the team and said, “Contact Goat. Ask him how preparations are going.”
“Yes.”
The woman closed her eyes, a peculiar rune floating before her.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes and reported to the short-haired man, “Goat says everything is ready on his end. The target train will arrive on schedule.”
“Good.” He checked the time and ordered the others, “Teams One and Two, take your positions. The rest of you, follow me.”
“Yes.”
The water’s surface returned to calm, but beneath it, undercurrents stirred—much like the capital at dusk, silently brewing a storm of bloodshed.
Less than a minute after they left, a middle-aged man arrived by the riverbank, staring intently at the tranquil water.
Suddenly, he took a deep breath and plunged into the river, disappearing after a few splashes.
……
Whoooosh—
A steel dragon raced across the vast plains, its speed exceeding 300 km/h, forcing even birds to veer away as skyscrapers blurred past on either side.
“Attention, passengers. The next stop is Beijing South Station, the final destination. Please prepare to disembark.”
Su Mo quietly ended his meditative state and checked the time—exactly 7:00 PM. If nothing went wrong, they would arrive in fifteen minutes.
He stood up to stretch, accidentally locking eyes with a black-clad man walking down the aisle.
The man had been his neighbor for the entire trip, visiting the restroom at least six times—as if plagued by some unspeakable ailment.
Their gazes met briefly before both looked away without further interest.
Bored, Su Mo opened the special operations group chat, hoping to see if anyone had posted anything.
Aside from a brief exchange from a mission days ago, there was nothing but silence.
Sigh. Where’s A-Kun? Why isn’t he livening things up? I could use some entertainment.
He grumbled internally.
With the train nearing its destination, passengers began gathering their belongings, some even lining up in the aisle, eager to disembark.
Su Mo turned to the window, admiring the cityscape of the capital.
Ahead was a bridge spanning the river, beyond which stood towering skyscrapers far more impressive than those in Jing City.
The river wasn’t particularly wide, its calm surface resembling a silver ribbon woven through the bustling metropolis.
As the train crossed the bridge, the man beside him stood again—but this time, he wasn’t heading to the restroom.
The sunset was beautiful. The city at dusk, even more so.
But everything changed in an instant.
A deafening explosion rocked the speeding steel dragon, forcing it to a violent halt mid-bridge amid a series of blasts.
At the same time, figures lurking near the tracks surged forward, swarming the train.
Su Mo’s carriage, Car 4, was separated from the blast’s epicenter by one car. Though not directly hit, the violent tremors left the interior in chaos.
Passengers who had been standing in the aisle were thrown into collisions and stampedes.
Flames spread toward them—without an immediate escape, they’d all be consumed by the fire.
Someone grabbed an emergency hammer, smashing a window and scrambling out, only to be pushed from behind and sliced by broken glass, blood spraying.
As the first scream pierced the air, fear gripped every heart.
No one wanted to die. Everyone fought to survive, shoving and trampling in desperation.
The train conductor’s voice crackled over the intercom, attempting to calm the crowd, but no one listened.
Especially not those in Car 6—where no one might have survived.
“Everyone, quiet!” Su Mo roared, standing tall. “I’m a member of the North Star Special Operations Unit—a superhuman. Listen to me! Chaos won’t save anyone. Only by working together and evacuating in order do we stand a chance!”
But his words were drowned in the frenzy.
“Hey! Listen to me!” Su Mo reversed his qi flow, amplifying his voice with spiritual energy until it boomed like thunder, finally seizing some attention.
He raised his ID high. “North Star Special Ops! Guardian of Daxia! If you want to live, follow my lead!”
Some grew hopeful at his words, but most only looked confused.
North Star? Special Ops? Kid, stop wasting our time—let us escape!
Then—
CRACK!
A gunshot shattered the window beside Su Mo, a bullet the length of a palm streaking toward his forehead.
Reacting instantly, he raised his right hand—his five-foot-long, one-inch-wide “Tetanus Blade” intercepted the shot.
CLANG!
The bullet deformed under the impact, ricocheting off the blade, which lost only a few flakes of rust.
Su Mo traced the bullet’s trajectory to a distant rooftop across the river—where a sniper’s silhouette flickered.
“This isn’t an accident!” he shouted. “It’s a planned terrorist attack! Don’t rush outside—it might be even deadlier out there!”
Having just deflected a sniper round, his words now carried weight. “From the blast pattern, the explosion originated near Cars 6 and 7 at the rear. Everyone—move toward the front!”
Under his direction, Car 4’s passengers surged toward Car 3, the leaders yelling, “There’s a superhuman from the authorities in Car 4! He says head for the front!”
Though some still didn’t understand, the tide of bodies carried them forward.
Inside the train, panic and flames spread. Outside, merciless terrorists waited. It seemed fate had been sealed the moment they boarded.
As the crowd fled toward Car 3, bullets continued piercing the windows. Without hesitation, Su Mo summoned his bronze armor—an artifact from ancient ruins.
Ordinary bullets were useless against it.
Su Mo knew staying inside wasn’t an option—not if he wanted to survive, and not if he wanted to save the others.
He leapt through the window.
A white superhuman was hurling fire spells when a bronze-clad figure suddenly appeared before him.
Curious, he lobbed a fireball—only for it to harmlessly deflect and scorch one of his own men instead.
“Oh my god, what is this thing?!” the man gasped, stunned.
Su Mo gave him no time to react. With a swing of his blade, he snarled, “You come to my country and still speak this gibberish? Die!”
The strike carried some personal resentment—after all, his English grades had never passed since ninth grade…