As Zheng Zha clashed with the muscular giant near Port of Cairo, the giant's other companion, Mohammed Yorif, was already being led by Zhao Yingkong into the densely packed residential area of Cairo, where alleys crisscrossed in an intricate, deep network, each looking so similar that a newcomer was guaranteed to get lost, and before he knew it, Yorif had lost the trace of Zhao Yingkong.

"Don't even think of escaping! The warriors of Allah will never forgive a coward who flees!" Yorif roared in a thick voice. He raised one arm, pointing it toward a wall in front of him. To his surprise, that arm bent backward; the main bone of the limb was revealed to be a hollow steel pipe. Then, with a deafening blast, several small cannon shells were fired from within, instantly shattering the wall into fragments.

Zhao Yingkong had been holding her breath, moving stealthily behind that wall—a unique stealth technique of the Assassin Clan that concealed all killing intent and sound, allowing her to meld into the darkness itself. Even those who had unlocked their Gene Locks could scarcely sense her presence; this was the most renowned infiltration skill of the clan.

But just as Yorif raised his hand to attack, a sharp, dangerous premonition flashed through Zhao Yingkong. She leaped up and dashed toward the room's entrance. She barely managed to kick the door open and burst out when the entire room was instantly engulfed in flames. The sheer force of the explosion nearly propelled her out of the house. The young girl, agile as she was, spun around mid-air and planted her feet against the wall rushing toward her, finally steadying herself against the shockwave of the blast.

The moment she regained her footing, she immediately rolled to the ground. The spot where she had just stood was instantly riddled with dozens of bullet holes. This trail of impacts relentlessly pursued the spot she had vacated, finally stopping only after she had phased through the adjacent wall.

"Hahaha, don't even try to run! You've led yourself into a dead end! In this environment, you cannot possibly escape! I can intercept you between three residential blocks. I have ground-to-ground micro-homing missiles, and I possess laser eyes. As long as you are alive, you will never escape my sight. Stop hiding, stop running, and come out to fight me honorably! Allah blesses the brave!" Yorif’s other hand twitched; all five fingers had snapped apart at the joints, and smoke curled from them as if they were gun barrels. He bellowed his words while steadily advancing toward the residential block consumed by firelight.

(Laser eyes? As long as I'm alive, I can't escape his sight? What does he mean by that...?) Looking out through Yorif's eyes, his left registered colors as a normal person would, but his right eye perceived the world in thermal spectrum reactions. Within this residential area, only Zhao Yingkong’s body temperature registered the most intensely. Every movement she made seemed as if her muscles were ablaze, every action filled with fiery power—the result of her body being tempered through endless refinement, the physique of an assassin.

"It's useless, you cannot escape!" Yorif laughed heartily, feeling like a hunter tracking a rabbit. He raised the arm capable of firing shells again and unleashed several blasts, reducing one residence to burning dust. A dark shadow darted out from the ruins. Yorif instantly aimed his five gun-fingers and fired another burst, chasing the shadow and putting it in a desperate scramble.

Just as Yorif was about to let out another triumphant laugh, he saw the shadow executing a set of footwork he recognized well, charging toward him. Like a phantom, darting left and right, the figure closed the distance instantly. Then, two faint, thin lines scored his arms where they crossed. After completing this sequence of movements, Zhao Yingkong stood calmly before Yorif.

"...Are you also from the Assassin Clan? You people are all freaks, cleanly severing tendons with a mere scratch... Do you think that will do anything to me? Stop screwing around! A warrior of Allah isn't stopped just because his tendons are cut!" Yorif paused, then suddenly roared in fury before launching a massive punch toward Zhao Yingkong.

Zhao Yingkong seemed prepared for this; she used the same swift footwork to dart backward, then began circling Yorif. Gradually, she appeared to multiply out of thin air. These phantom figures danced around Yorif, looking exactly like several Zhao Yingkongs had appeared at once.

Yorif quickly checked with his right eye and saw that all these multiple figures emitted the same thermal signature. He frantically fired his gun-fingers, but the bullets passed straight through the silhouettes as if striking empty air. Zhao Yingkong's spectral forms remained untouched, continuing their circuit around him.

"...In the real world, semi-modified robots have already appeared. The first time we engaged them, our personnel suffered heavy losses due to thermal spectral detection. Afterward, we developed this displacement technique: uniform movement at extreme speed, with each step covering only a few centimeters, yet moving more than ten times faster than a normal person. This leaves a residual heat signature for every step we take... Although your interior has many mechanical components, I must ask... do you still possess a soul?" As she moved, Zhao Yingkong drew out her dagger, Netherflame Fang. This blade carried flames capable of scorching souls; the entire dagger resembled the tooth of a hellhound, possessing a sharp and ferocious aspect.

For a moment, Yorif saw multiple such blades appearing. In his momentary disorientation, Zhao Yingkong flashed to his side and plunged the dagger deep into his left shoulder joint. A harsh sound of metal clashing echoed, and Yorif’s left arm, capable of firing shells, instantly dropped uselessly. That was not all; a strange, intense agony shot through his left shoulder—a pain so terrifying it made him cry out loudly. The sensation... was as if his very soul was being burned! "Even machines have joints. If you find the right method, even the strongest machine is just a machine!" Zhao Yingkong coldly drove the dagger into Yorif’s other shoulder joint while speaking: "Do not move, or I kill... Do not speak, or I kill... It is best to pray I don't encounter your comrades, or I will assume you secretly contacted them, or else... I kill!" Yorif clenched his teeth, trembling violently. This soul-burning agony was indescribable; he couldn't even move an inch. The mechanical augmentation that had given him a sense of security now felt as fragile as paper. While flesh and skin could withstand minor flame scorching, the mechanical body transmitted the fire directly to the depths of his soul. He couldn't even beg for mercy or self-detonate to die; he could only stand there as Zhao Yingkong gently traced the mechanical spine beneath his neck. Then, Zhao Yingkong abruptly pulled the dagger out and lightly inserted it into the mechanical spine. Instantly, his vision went black, and he fainted... Jump to