Dusk had fallen, and the blood-red sun hung at the edge of the sky, incessantly releasing the last of today’s sunlight, casting a layer of reddish-gold shell upon the buildings of Lonely City.
Before the sun completely sets, if your Magician, Mr., has not t with , then you will be destroyed along with this building.
The Demon’s words still echoed in the ears of every hostage in the hall, but as the patch of sunlight by the windows grew dimr, a thick sense of despair so potent it seed almost tangible sprouted within their hearts.
Why isn’t Clo dead?
Why hasn’t the Magician co?
Why ?
Why?
Why...
At this critical mont of life and death, countless questions involuntarily blood deep within the hostages’ minds, and the very culprit that had planted these seeds of query...
was feeling quite pleased at the mont.
He lay atop a table in the center of the hall, his little legs dangling and swinging, pinching the button that could detonate the explosives at any mont in his hand.
Since he did not trust electronic technology, the button was not a remote controller emitting electronic signals to the bomb but connected to the explosives through a special chanical structure, which could detonate the explosives with a single thought, and would not be susceptible to any hacking by the police’s White Hat.
The story behind this face of Clo, coupled with the face itself, ensured that the police’s negotiation experts didn’t dare act rashly.
Until a figure smashed through the hall’s window, his silhouette traced a half-circle in the air, but stopped its montum in an entirely unscientific manner, and then landed steadily on the ground.
The assembled hostages simultaneously turned their hopeful gazes towards the newcor.
Upon hearing the crash, the person on the table quickly sat up, and his eyes, too, filled with anticipation, darted towards the direction of the shattered window. He opened his mouth excitedly but didn’t imdiately make a sound. Instead, he adjusted his facial expression and then, lowering his voice, feigned calmness and said, "You’re here."
The newcor was Jiang Shu.
He had promptly organized the evacuation of Liu Tingruo’s secret base, completing the sweep in just three to four minutes.
The only items they needed to take were so Black Silver and so data, and although Jiang Shu felt they were precious, Liu Tingruo simply waved her hand dismissively, deeming those items no more than casually crafted garbage.
It was then that Jiang Shu realized, Liu Tingruo seed to have many such secret bases; only the micro-missile launch center was unique—but he did not ask where exactly that center was.
Therefore, the group split into two: Jiang Shu, accompanied by the Tablet Spirit Xiao Yi, went to Clo’s location, while Sister Liu, the Fox, and Lang Tai ventured to another base.
Xiao Jia and Xiao Bing both followed them, with the two Tablet Spirits tasked with monitoring Paperman Tang and Paperman Aishania. Xiao Jia, being more reliable in its tasks compared to Xiao Yi, was left by Jiang Shu with Sister Liu.
"I’m here," Jiang Shu said, nodding to the Red Clo; his nose twitched slightly, picking up on the scent of gasoline in the air, and Clo was only a re ten or so ters away from him.
At such close proximity, with Jiang Shu’s vision, he could see more clearly—the light blue suit that Clo wore had a red-eyed white crow pinned to its chest.
The temperant of the Red Clo in front of him was also completely different from the Black Clo he had previously encountered, and Jiang Shu felt this deeply after eting him.
The Black Clo who had stirred up chaos in Thirteen District might have seed frivolous on the surface, but he was composed on the inside, exuding a tranquil and leisurely air in whatever he did.
In comparison, the Black Clo was genuinely well-prepared, from the grand scope of Lonely City to the intricacies of the human heart, nearly possessing a kind of foreknowledge-like intuition for everything.
And now, this Red Clo...
Seed a bit nervous?
"Clo, as you wished, I ca," Jiang Shu continued, "So now, can we release theses hostages?"
"Of course, but only after we finish our talk," Red Clo said with a smile. He tapped his temple with his index finger, as if recalling sothing, "However, before that, please don’t call Clo, I am not him."
"I can see that," Jiang Shu nodded, "You’re definitely not him. Do you have a dual personality?"
"No, not exactly," Red Clo seed to want to avoid elaborating on that topic, instead casually tapping his hand in the air, "compared to those long nas, I prefer one-word nas, sothing like Ya? Or perhaps Lo?"
His tone carried an undertone of uncertainty, as though debating what his new na should be.
At this juncture, the always-helpful Xiao Yi stepped forward. It quickly typed out a new na on its screen.
Yi: How about "Baga Ya Lo"?
Jiang Shu: "???"
Damn, that’s really sothing!
"Forget it, the matter of the na isn’t urgent," Clo decided to drop the subject after so thought, almost like a childish brat coming up with one idea after another.
The hall went silent, leaving only Clo’s hand still unconsciously moving, conducting an inexplicable musical rhythm.
After a short lull, Jiang Shu also sighed and said, "This boring ga, you can stop it now, can’t you?"
Even if it was just for a few brief minutes, he had thoroughly seen through the sowhat poor performance of this Red Clo.
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