After a moment of hesitation, Du Lang touched his chin and gave a wry smile. "Well, the grade of the crystal spheres you obtained this time is too high. Old Fox Qiao An absolutely refuses to budge an inch on the distribution plan for the spheres... Tsk~ We'll have to wait a bit! But don't worry, we absolutely won't forget the portion designated for the Special Operations Bureau!"

Shrugging indifferently, Gu Xie Chen said lightly, "Oh? Alright then, whenever you have it is fine with me. The survival rate for the Kryštos fusion is too low anyway; I still need to figure out how to find a few hundred unlucky souls to merge with these spheres." Gu Xie Chen sighed deeply and shook his head with resignation.

"Alas, they are all my trusted subordinates, just to be sacrificed for nothing like this." Du Lang’s expression also darkened as he was reminded of the terrifying success rate of the Kryštos fusion. He let out a bitter laugh and sighed to the heavens as well.

Speaking of high-grade Kryštos spheres, to maximize their most potent effects, one must select the most outstanding and loyal subordinates within one's own faction for fusion. But with that success rate, low enough to make one weep tears of blood, few living people would likely remain among those most outstanding and loyal subordinates! Du Lang felt a heavy weight in his heart. He even began to resent Gu Xie Chen for bringing back so many high-grade spheres. Especially those few black crystal spheres—in Du Lang’s mind, the best candidates for them were his own direct descendants!

A sharp pain struck his heart. Du Lang bared his teeth and glared out the car window at the vast, misty rain. He had no mind left to mediate the conflict between Gu Xie Chen and Alexander.

The convoy drove along the scenic route beside the Seine for a while. Ahead was an avenue lined with trees, running perpendicular to the river, and turning onto this avenue led to Gu Xie Chen's official residence in Paris. Several lean men in gray trench coats were pacing back and forth at the intersection. Seeing the convoy approach, they immediately straightened their already ramrod-straight postures. The fierce wind whipped up the hems of their trench coats, revealing the large-caliber automatic firearms concealed beneath their clothing.

"Hmm?" Du Lang looked at the group of imposing men in gray and chuckled, "Your people?"

Gu Xie Chen looked at the gray-clad men with a hint of pride and smiled. "Yes, the old crew from Uncle Hu Zi. All heroes forged in the fires of gunfire, though they all have extensive rap sheets. The shortest sentence for the ones I pulled out of the Federal Prison was three life sentences!"

These men were newly added agents to the Special Operations Bureau—all veterans of the former Hell's Angels mercenary group. They were all ruthless killers, "heroes" who knew nothing but murder, arson, and wrongdoing. Now that the mercenary group had successfully transitioned into a security firm, and the Special Operations Bureau had numerous vacancies, Gu Xie Chen immediately converted these old mercenaries into official Federal employees, erasing all their criminal records and providing them with entirely new employment files. It was, in a way, the fulfillment of the promise made by their grizzled commander to these old brothers.

After listening to Gu Xie Chen's account, Du Lang nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, one's own people are more dependable."

After a pause, Du Lang looked at Gu Xie Chen with a sense of helplessness and forced a bitter smile. "But, are all the current members of your Special Operations Bureau..."

Gu Xie Chen raised an eyebrow and chuckled with a touch of mystery. "Of course. They were once heavy convicts of the Federation, but now they have all turned over a new leaf and started anew!"

After a moment of silence, Du Lang let out a strange, gloating laugh, squeezing his eye at Gu Xie Chen in a peculiar manner. Gu Xie Chen responded with an understanding smile, turning his head to look out the window. Du Lang’s laughter grew more unrestrained. He couldn't care less what kind of people populated Gu Xie Chen's Special Operations Bureau. Even if they caused trouble, that was the responsibility of the Federal Security departments, what did it have to do with him, the Chairman of the Military Council?

As the Chairman of the Military Council, all he required was formidable combat capability from his subordinates! Undeniably, these old mercenaries, stemming from the Federation's most hardened criminals, possessed fighting power that was no laughing matter.

Gu Xie Chen suddenly let out a soft gasp of surprise, pointing towards the window. "With this heavy wind and rain today, why are there so many people on the bridge?"

Du Lang turned his head in surprise to look outside; indeed, he could see that something was wrong.

On the Seine, the Pont Alexandre III was undoubtedly a crucial traffic artery, but on a normal day, it was mostly used by vehicles. The bridge only had two relatively narrow pedestrian walkways for sightseeing. Yet today, despite the gale and downpour, with lightning occasionally tearing across the sky, there were at least two hundred people standing on those pedestrian walkways—that was highly irregular.

And on the riverbank opposite, among the bushes and grass, countless shadowy figures swayed faintly. In the high-rises beyond the foliage, Du Lang spotted several subtle flashes of light. To an ordinary person, these glints would be too weak to notice, but to someone with Du Lang's profound cultivation, they were clearly the reflections from the aiming scopes of sniper rifles equipped with light-suppressing lenses.

Glancing strangely at the composed Gu Xie Chen, Du Lang quickly surveyed the surrounding environment.

Beneath the wild storm-tossed waters of the Seine, several vague, dark shapes were submerged, and the river surface was exhibiting strange ripples, as if something massive was beginning to surface.

In the green spaces flanking the roadway, several patches of ground had sunk two or three inches deep—clearly, the soil had been recently tampered with, the underlying earth having been dug up.

The acute sense born from countless brushes with death made the hairs on Du Lang’s body stand on end. He slammed his fist hard onto the in-car communicator and roared, "Stop the convoy!"

The convoy braked abruptly. The three lead armored vehicles suddenly erupted into flames as they were blasted skyward—remote-controlled landmines beneath them had been detonated, tearing a massive pit five or six meters deep and thirty meters wide in the road. The three armored vehicles, capable of withstanding heavy artillery bombardment, were flung nearly a hundred meters into the air, sparks showering from their hulls, though the vehicle bodies remained structurally intact.

A shrill whistling tore across the Pont Alexandre III as at least twelve high-velocity armor-piercing rockets screamed towards them. Every four rockets struck a single armored vehicle. The thick armor plating was ripped open, and high-explosive warheads detonated inside, scattering countless triangular pre-formed fragments. The personnel inside Du Lang's escort were shredded into dust. Only a few Xiantian Fighters managed to let out enraged shouts, rolling with violent Li Qi as they tumbled out of the fractured vehicles and fell toward the ground.

Flashes of intense light erupted from the high-rises across the river, and hundreds of high-energy laser beams, as thick as wrists, struck the Xiantian Fighters almost simultaneously. With sharp hissing sounds, the bodies of several Xiantian Fighters, whose strength was at least at the Mars level, were pierced through. They crashed heavily to the ground with agonizing shrieks. Their bodies were riddled with at least thirty fist-sized holes; they were certainly dead. One fighter, struggling, used his last breath to toss a black briefcase toward the armored vehicle behind him.

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