There was amazent, there was envy, there was lancholy, but more than anything, there was a sense of reflection.
The killing field is fair, an infinite world, infinite possibilities. As the heavens move, the gentleman exerts himself tirelessly.
With the emo mood swept away, Zhangsun Yao jumped up from the lazy couch, cheerfully freshening up and enjoying a hearty al.
She casually placed her phone on a paper-folded bird to watch the UK night news channel in real-ti.
She was waiting.
————
Yin City ti, 11:30 a.m.
London ti, 4:30 a.m.
City center, 2 kiloters north of the Thas River.
Flush——
The sound of a toilet flushing ca from the hotel room’s bathroom, and soon, a burly MI6 agent walked out, yawning.
The Sky Sports channel on the TV was replaying a football match. In the not-so-spacious room, including him, there were all of eight male and female agents present.
In the hotel’s adjacent room, the room across, in the black SUV by the roadside, and even on a certain floor of the high-rise across the street, teams of special operations personnel were stationed.
All personnel were composed of elite forces drawn from MI5, MI6, UK Defence Intelligence (DI), British Communication Headquarters (GCHQ), teaming up with the Transcendent and elite operatives.
Such a grand setup was actually to protect, at that mont in the hotel room, a middle-aged woman with disheveled hair, a bloated body, and a haggard face, Sarah Thompson.
She is Anjie Thompson, forrly Cai Anjie’s foster mother.
Along with the TV background noise, Sarah, reclining on the bed, was listless, her eyelids gradually falling.
The smart handcuffs on her wrist, detecting sleep, emitted a rapid alarm sound.
A female special agent beside her unhesitatingly slapped Sarah, forcefully stuffed a white pill into her mouth, and washed it down with water.
The pill was sour, bitter, and astringent. Sarah coughed incessantly in discomfort, pounding her chest hard.
"You can’t sleep now,"
The short-haired female agent’s face was reflected in the mirror on the bedside table, her voice cold, "The Special Affairs Bureau is watching you, and they have a Player who can kill through dreams."
"Lady, just let sleep. I don’t even care if I die."
Sarah’s eyes were bloodshot. Just four days ago, entangled in a cross-national adoption abuse case, she was acquitted by the London Criminal Court. She thought she could go ho, but was forcibly taken away as soon as she got in the car, almost "detained" in the hotel room.
As for her husband, Jacob Thompson, who was sentenced to six months in jail, his whereabouts were unknown.
Four days without rest or sleep, Sarah Thompson was exhausted, but the special agents present were equally frustrated.
Sarah and her husband couldn’t be sent to the Killing Field Slum Street or MI6’s headquarters in the Killing Field.
On one hand, the slum prohibits Players from harming each other, but doesn’t prohibit harm from Players to non-Players.
Sent to the slum, Sarah and Jacob would still be hunted. It might even be worse because there would be no cover of UK civilians around.
On the other hand, during the private negotiations over these four days between UK official agencies and the Special Affairs Bureau, the UK side insisted that "the lenient sentence of the Thompson couple was an independent judicial act of the London Criminal Court and was unrelated to the Hidden Room’s jurisdiction."
If they were sent to the killing field, it would instead give the Special Affairs Bureau sothing to hold against.
"Listen up, you idiot."
A female special agent nad Chloe slapped Sarah again, reddening her sagging left cheek, and said coldly, "From the mont you stepped out of the court, your life is no longer your own. Recognize your place."
"...This is abuse! This is illegally detaining taxpayers! I want a lawyer, I want to find a BBC reporter to expose you!"
Sarah covered her face, shouting and yelling like a tantrum, flinging her limbs about on the bed.
But as Chloe snapped her fingers, her neck was seized by Invisible Power, lifting her into the air and making her struggle laboriously.
Until her face turned red, her vision went black, and then the hold was released, dropping her heavily back onto the bed.
It made a creaking sound.
"..." Fear and awe finally appeared on Sarah’s face; it was another encounter with Supernatural Power.
It not only brought back mories of those conspiracy theories clamoring on the internet.
Claims like the reptilian Illuminati ruling the world;
The Earth being flat;
5G towers being mind-control machines used by the governnt;
"Are you scared now?"
A burly male agent nad Arthur sneered, "The foster daughter you abused to death, Anjie Thompson, wields several tis more Supernatural Power than us.
Imagine what fate would befall you and your husband if you fell into her hands."
In an instant, terrifying forms of torture flashed through Sarah Thompson’s mind, her face turned pale, and she trembled uncontrollably.
"So, cooperate properly. It benefits you and us."
Arthur pulled a Lambert & Butler cigarette from his pocket, stepped out onto the balcony to smoke. Seeing Chloe follow him out, he handed her one casually.
At half-past four in the morning, the clouds in the night sky roiled like a wrinkled backdrop, thunder rumbling endlessly across the horizon.
London City was brightly lit, the streetlights along the Thas River giving off a warm glow, illuminating the stone-paved streets in the shop windows of a corner coffeehouse.
One street away, the music from Fabric Nightclub faintly echoed. Young n and won still queued up on the road, waiting to get in.
"Phew,"
Arthur exhaled smoke, flicking the ash with his fingers, and asked casually, "By the way, what if the Special Affairs Bureau doesn’t comply? Are we supposed to keep this couple confined and feed them?"
"The Special Affairs Bureau will comply. At least they will concede so benefits."
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