Chapter 633 - 404: Wait... Master, How Are You Not Dead Yet!!

Chapter 633: Chapter 404: Wait... Master, How Are You Not Dead Yet!!

The night deepens, Yingnan City is illuminated with lights, and the television screens and public displays in every household and street corner are all occupied by a sudden message in this quiet night.

On the screen, a slightly stiff-faced female announcer is reporting with precise diction.

"Dear viewers, we interrupt with an urgent announcement from this city: due to a sudden need for structural safety inspection of Yingnan Tower,

to ensure the safety of citizens, the surrounding roads will be temporarily sealed off starting today. Relevant departments will work with professional teams to complete the repair work as quickly as possible,

please take note and detour accordingly, and we apologize for any inconvenience caused..."

The announcement’s official wording and calm tone makes it indistinguishable from ordinary notices, perhaps eliciting a few grumbles about "why are they repairing again so suddenly."

In a secret hideout somewhere in the city, Wei Feng might be swirling his wine glass, enjoying this "masterpiece" he has orchestrated on the television screen.

He revels in the twisted pleasure of wrapping bloody violence in a cloak of civilization, enjoying the power to keep an entire city unaware, while making certain individuals feel like they’re sitting on pins and needles.

The night has cloaked Yingnan Tower in a dark mantle, and this city landmark, usually radiant, now exudes an air of forbidding danger.

The plaza beneath the tower is no longer its usual bustling self.

The glaring warning lights dye the surroundings into a flickering sea of red and blue, replacing the warm landscape lighting.

Striking yellow caution tape wraps the entire area like a seal.

All roads leading to the tower are heavily blocked by riot control vehicles and stern-looking guards.

This place used to be the throbbing heart of Yingnan City, a tourist hotspot and a favorite place for citizens to stroll.

However, since that vague "repair notice" spread throughout the city via radio waves this morning, a silent lockdown has suddenly descended.

A large number of armed guards stand ready as if facing a great enemy, constructing an impenetrable human wall,

any curious gaze trying to approach is mercilessly turned away with a cold "Executing duties, repair danger, please leave immediately."

The air is filled with a suffocating tension.

Guards keep their lips tightly shut, fingers clinging to their gear, as their eyes continuously sweep across the empty plaza and the cloud-piercing tower top.

They have been ordered to secure, yet no one has told them the truth behind the lockdown.

This vigilance over the unknown is more tormenting than facing danger directly.

And in the darker outskirts, the media’s long-focus lens attempts to penetrate this forbidden zone defined by power and secrecy, capturing any hint of the truth.

All signs point to the fact that this so-called "repair" hides an earth-shattering secret.

Yingnan Tower, this landmark shooting three hundred meters into the city night sky, at this moment resembles a cold, giant glass sword.

Its transparent curtain wall that should be shimmering with lights now darkly reflects the flashing red and blue of the watch lights below, exuding an ominous dark red and ghostly blue.

Inside the tower, the eight elevators that usually shuttle visitors quickly are now heavily guarded.

The paths to the upper levels have been completely sealed off.

However, at the observation platform on the tower’s top, the atmosphere has frozen to the extreme.

The guards who arrived first just stood rooted, looking horrified as they stared upward at the final direction of the tower’s tip.

It was as if they were witnessing a scene far beyond their comprehension, an unbelievable sight.

Some inadvertently opened their mouths wide, unaware of the cold sweat sliding down their temples.

The wind at the tower’s top roars, yet it cannot dispel the suffocating silence.

Beneath the tower’s tip, two blood-soaked figures sway gently with the high-altitude cold wind.

Lu Guanghai and Lu Guangchen have long lost their former authority, their clothes are tattered, and their bodies are covered with wounds.

Congealed dark red bloodstains interweave with fresh bright red on their bodies under the strong lights, forming a grim pattern.

Their heads droop, breathing so weak that only slight chest heaves remain, almost inhaling more than exhaling.

The most shocking sight is what binds them—the rope is not a thick safety cable, but a thin transparent fishing line, like a violin string.

This thin line cuts deep into their wrists’ flesh, suspending their full weight at the deathly height of three hundred meters.

A wind gust slightly intensifies, causing their bodies to rotate uncontrollably.

The line gives off a barely audible "creak," as if it’s about to snap completely at any moment.

The guards on the tower’s platform dare not even inhale deeply or move lightly.

Any tiny vibration might be the last straw that breaks the camel’s back, turning these two core figures of the Lu Family into ones who plummet to their deaths under the night sky.

This is a meticulously crafted cruel performance.

The perpetrators aim not just to destroy the flesh but to torture the nerves of all who witness, pinning primal fear at the city’s highest point.

Yet, this is still not the entirety of the scheme.

At the uppermost end of this rope, connected to the tower’s tip structure, two fist-sized miniature bombs are tied conspicuously.

Their outer shell glistened with a cold metallic sheen under the lights.

One tactical expert lowered his binoculars, turned pale-faced to the on-site commander, and spoke hoarsely.

"Director Feng, the perpetrators claim that multiple miniature cameras have been installed at key locations of the tower,

they are monitoring in real-time... as long as any of our people attempt to approach, cut the rope, or shoot at the chain..."