Yin Yang Lake spanned just over ten square kilometers, fed by two long rivers—one wide, one narrow—that entered the water like opposing forces of Yin and Yang, earning them the name Yin Yang Rivers.

The shores of Yin Yang Lake were perpetually verdant, regardless of the season. The trees were sturdy but did not pierce the sky, creating an environment of profound, exquisite tranquility that left any visitor feeling refreshed and clear-headed.

The Yin Yang Tide Villa District was nestled on the eastern edge of the lake. This was Saturn’s most luxurious and expensive residential area, composed exclusively of detached villas; townhouses were nowhere to be seen.

Someone once joked that driving a ground-level car in the Yin Yang Lake Villa District would make you too embarrassed to greet the residents.

A sophisticated alarm and surveillance system, combined with round-the-clock patrols by retired military personnel, elevated the area’s defense to a level nearly matching that of a Federal Presidential Residence.

Kindergartens, primary and secondary schools, hospitals, supermarkets… every conceivable amenity for living was present. It was, in essence, a small, independent city, guaranteeing the safest and highest quality of life for all its inhabitants.

The moonlight from several moons spilled onto the ground, bathing the entire landscape.

Qin Fen strolled through the cluster of villas. There was no urban clamor here; everything was quiet and harmonious, broken only occasionally by the faint chirping of insects rising from the undergrowth.

Qin Fen frowned slightly. The defenses here were impeccable; they must have hired specialists, retired special forces perhaps, to design a surveillance network with virtually no blind spots. The only flaw was its over-comprehensiveness; even those insect sounds were generated by an electronic mixer. Apart from the residents, the only other life forms in the entire complex were domestic pets; there were no insects whatsoever. Those chirps were merely electronic ambient noise created specifically for aesthetic elegance.

Passing by the villas, Qin Fen’s pace appeared leisurely, but in reality, he moved with the swiftness of wind and lightning. The surveillance cameras could capture no trace of his figure. These seamless monitoring systems, designed to deter ordinary martial artists, were as fragile as waste paper in the eyes of a Martial Arts Master.

Villa Number Forty-Four, covering seventy-five hundred square feet, was the largest in the complex. From a distance, it resembled a palace or a fortress.

The palace-like villa was surrounded by a vast expanse of emerald lawn, encircled by a low, white wooden fence, lending it the feel of a grand estate within the community.

According to the intelligence provided by Yang Lie, the Flying Heart Girl Group always returned here to rest after their daily rehearsals.

The brightly lit villa complex appeared exceptionally quiet, carrying a faint, chilling aura of lethal tension. Occasionally, passersby would glance curiously inside the fence at the martial artists patrolling back and forth, carrying electric batons and bulky objects—clearly firearms—holstered at their waists.

Even in a community boasting superior security, the villa's owners had established their own security checkpoints, demonstrating the owner's extreme vigilance.

No one found such defensive capabilities strange. Those living nearby knew that the current occupants of this "palace" were the unrivaled, most popular idols in the nation, the Flying Heart Girl Group, and such defenses were not an exaggeration given the need to guard against terrorist attacks.

Two roving patrolmen stopped near the villa, observing Qin Fen cautiously as he halted. His hands instinctively rested near his waist.

Qin Fen smiled and stepped back, opening his hands. These men carried none of the taint of brigandry; they were clearly members of some security firm, likely retired soldiers holding a professional post.

Qin Fen retreated outside the guards’ line of sight but kept his gaze fixed on the colossal 'palace.' Compared to the aura of these external guards, the atmosphere emanating from within the building was less pure.

Even through the obstruction of the walls and their deliberate restraint, he sensed the presence of martial artists whose presence was like that of wild beasts, infused with a thick scent of bloodlust and aggression.

Qin Fen had encountered this scent on many individuals: most people in the Golden Triangle, certain terrorists, and members of special forces units.

Beyond this bloody, aggressive, beastly aura, Qin Fen sensed two distinct currents of sorrow. Within the faint sadness, there was no trace of fear or dread; those were likely the auras of Ya Fei and Ya Xin—women who had faced death countless times and long since forged a mindset unafraid of dying.

"Fire Lady isn't here?" Qin Fen felt a degree of surprise. Where was the woman who practiced the fiercely masculine martial arts, acted impetuously, and carried a unique, volatile scent in her aura?

In a master bedroom on the fifth floor, a dart—steel-tipped, plastic-tailed, the kind used in official competitions—cut a red arc through the air, striking its target with a dull thud.

The target here was not a bullseye hanging on the wall, but a living man. His mouth had been sewn shut with cord, rendering him utterly silent.

The dart pierced the nail of his little finger, embedding the digit into the wall. Crimson blood trickled slowly down the plaster. The victim’s muscles spasmed; his pupils reflected confusion, fear, and pain.

He had no idea why he had been seized while walking down the street, nor could he comprehend why his captors were shooting him with darts, especially while the two most popular idols in the country watched him, eyes brimming with anxiety and guilt.

Thump... A monotonous, repetitive sound marked each dart striking the bound man’s fingers one by one. The small projectiles soon caused him to bleed profusely from every hand.

The door suddenly opened. A man stood outside, sporting short brown hair and a build that was stocky rather than tall, his sapphire-blue eyes fixed intently on the slender figure throwing the darts. He spoke in a low voice, "Have you no patience at all? The concert starts in two days! What if the scent of blood carries outside..."

"Major General Yilans, I’m terribly bored," said the thin, monkey-like man with oriental features and eyebrows shaped like an inverted V. He slowly raised his head. "You order me to watch over these two beautiful twin flowers, yet forbid me from taking them to bed and ravaging them! So they can learn the consequences of obstructing our Holy War."

Ya Xin and Ya Fei glared fiercely at the man standing at the doorway: Yilans! One of the three great generals under Aslan, Saturn’s most notorious terrorist financier!

Cruel, ruthless, cold-blooded—these words were utterly inadequate to describe Yilans’ methods. His nickname among the terrorists was the General of the Holy War; to the outside world, he was known as the Terror General. After repeated failed attempts to attack the Flying Heart Girl Group, Yilans made a decision: he would personally lead an assault, risking a full federal manhunt.

This time, the attack would not be external; he had chosen a different approach.

"So they can learn the consequences of obstructing the Holy War?" Yilans looked down at his subordinate, who sat on the edge of the bed, listlessly killing time by throwing darts. A cold smile touched his lips. "Zazawi, you’re overcome by lust again. Perhaps. It must be difficult watching such exquisite beauties without being allowed to defile them."

Zazawi stopped throwing his darts, looked up with a lecherous grin—who wouldn't want to take down two of the nation’s top idols who offered no resistance? Especially when they were identical beauties.

"You have indeed suffered these three months," Yilans conceded, sitting by the bed and observing the stubborn expressions of Ya Fei and Ya Xin. "But there’s no choice. Too many people have eyes. If you violate them, the moment their images appear in newspapers or at a concert, this issue will be instantly discovered."

Zazawi nodded without argument. An old hand at seduction, he could tell if a woman was a virgin from a recent photograph alone.

If the Flying Heart Girl Group’s virtue was compromised, it would be front-page news across the entire Federation the next day, rendering the eventual assassination at the concert far less impactful.

"I came not only to tell you not to injure anyone rashly but also to bring good news," Yilans observed the two Flying Hearts playfully. "Tomorrow, neither of them will appear in public. We’ll announce they are resting up to recuperate before the performance! Therefore, they will not be seen publicly until the concert."

"General..." Zazawi urged, flexing his dry, rough hands, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as he asked, "You mean..."

"Precisely!" Yilans suddenly tore open the front of his uniform, revealing a chest covered in dark hair. "Seeing as you’ve guarded them diligently for so long, I’ll delegate the task of deflowering one of them to you."

"Oh?" Zazawi jumped off the bed and stared at Ya Xin and Ya Fei. "Then, General, may we take turns later?"

"Naturally." Yilans stretched his broad shoulders, his thick lips splitting into a smile. He looked at the two women slouched on the bed with slight dissatisfaction. "It’s certainly a treat to be the one to open the innocence of these two famous women, but their complete lack of struggle is quite dull."

"General, you want to see them enraged?" Zazawi flattered Yilans. "I have a way."

"You mean it..." Yilans waved a hand. "Go do it. Quickly."

Zazawi turned and hurried toward the basement, a spacious yet dim room faintly permeated by a sharp, sickeningly sweet odor mixed with a trace of blood.

Under the dim yellow light, there was a chair. Fire Lady was bound to this wooden chair.

Her coffee-colored professional suit had been shredded into strips. Her rosy brassiere was askew, draped over her shoulders, and her skirt was torn to rags. Wooden wedges brutally forced her legs apart, preventing them from closing, offering a glimpse of her female anatomy and the filth beneath.

There was no injury above her collarbone, but below it, her body was covered in bite marks and various other wounds. A man was hunched over her, violently venting his urges, yet Fire Lady offered no curses. She merely stared coldly at the terrorist who was using her body.

Be strong. I cannot let these terrorists use me to further threaten Ya Xin and Ya Fei.

"What are you looking at?" The terrorist felt a chill run through him as Fire Lady stared him down, even his masculine endowment seeming to falter. His sudden rage made him violently pinch one of Fire Lady’s proud, full breasts.

Pain elicited a soft moan from Fire Lady, which instantly brought a look of satisfaction to the terrorist’s eyes as he prepared to mount her again.

Zazawi patted the man’s back, who was about to resume. "Get off her first."

"I haven't had my fill. This slut offers new thrills every time we play," laughed several other cigarette-smoking terrorists nearby. Since their capture three months ago, Fire Lady had been used almost every night by them, and the man had just voiced what they all felt.

"General Yilans wants to use her."

Zazawi was deeply satisfied by the fear in their eyes. Yilans' cold-blooded discipline terrified even these death-defying terrorists.

Untying her ropes, Zazawi didn't bother letting Fire Lady dress. He pushed her toward the stairs.

Returning to the fifth floor, the moment the door opened, Ya Fei and Ya Xin cried out in unison. Fire Lady had always seemed sunny and decisive during their encounters, albeit weary. They had assumed she was holding up well; they never expected this...

"You!"

Ya Fei and Ya Xin stood up together, trembling as they looked at Yilans. The terrorists had promised not to harm anyone when they abducted them, but...

"She isn't dead yet, is she?" Yilans lifted Fire Lady’s chin. "What a beautiful woman. A pity... not a single orifice on her body is clean anymore."

"General, I’ll warm her up first, you pick one," Zazawi said with a servile smile, shoving Fire Lady toward a table.

Yilans watched the rage in Ya Fei and Ya Xin with satisfaction. Women like this were much more interesting to play with. He had fed and housed them well for three months; now it was time to show them the masculine side of his nature.

"Beast!"

Yilans felt nothing but happiness hearing the girls' furious curses; this was exactly the reaction he desired.

"General, shall I start the warm-up?" Zazawi grinned, grabbing the struggling Fire Lady. "You never struggled before, did you? What? Why such a strong reaction today? Don't want me to do you in front of the two girls? I miscalculated; I should have told you they were watching every time I played with you."

Yilans began loosening his belt, looking down at the two girls by the window. "Then hurry up. I, too, have three months of deferred pleasure to attend to."

"Yes, General—Ah!"

Yilans quickly turned toward the source of the scream. He suddenly sensed a gust of wind beside him. The two women by the headboard had vanished, and even Fire Lady, who had been on the table moments ago, was gone. Only Zazawi remained, crouching on the floor, clutching his shattered, five-fingered arm.

"Who is it?" Yilans stared blankly at the man standing before the floor-to-ceiling curtains, astonished that he hadn't sensed the intruder at all.

"Yilans, Terror General, responsible for multiple plots of terror, poisoning city water supplies, and the single murder of seventeen thousand civilians. Crimes against humanity. Bounty: three hundred and fifty million."

The tone, cold, merciless, like a polar wind blowing from the Antarctic, instantly filled every corner of the room.

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