My sister died tragically, and now I'm a citizen of my motherland, why are you crying?

black market.

Amidst the ruins, the remains of twenty-three strange beings were scattered throughout the secret chamber.

Some were still emitting wisps of smoke, while others had completely cooled into charred, hard lumps.

The molten metal solidified on the ground into irregular lumps that made a crunching sound when stepped on.

Zhou Min was still slumped in the corner, trembling uncontrollably.

She wanted to leave, but her body felt like it was nailed to the ground.

She could only sit there, panting heavily.

I tried my best not to look at the corpses of those strange people, and not to smell the nauseating stench of burning flesh in the air.

Lin Yuan stood in the center of the secret room, with his back to her.

The red cloak hung down behind him, motionless.

He had been standing there for several minutes.

There was no speech, no movement, not even the rise and fall of breathing.

Like a statue.

Zhou Min didn't know what he was doing, and didn't dare to ask.

She could only huddle in the corner, praying that the man would leave quickly so she could escape this hellish place.

Then, Lin Yuan made a move.

He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something.

Zhou Min's heart jumped.

"Someone's coming," Lin Yuan said calmly.

Zhou Min was stunned for a moment: "What?"

"Three people."

Lin Yuan's eyes narrowed slightly.

"It's very fast."

One was very heavy, the footsteps sounding like a pile driver.

One was very light, almost silent.

There was also... footsteps sounding simultaneously from three directions.

He paused.

"S-class hero".

Zhou Min's brain buzzed for a moment.

S-class hero.

Three.

They've arrived at the black market.

They've come looking for Homelander.

Her first reaction was not fear, but an absurd sense of relief—relief that she was not a native of her homeland.

Then fear surged up like a tidal wave, overwhelming her entire consciousness.

She's going to get implicated.

Regardless of who wins or loses, she cannot escape being labeled an "accomplice."

The Hero Association won; she was an accomplice of the black market.

Even if Homelander wins, she might not be able to leave alive.

Lin Yuan didn't look at her. His gaze went through the gaping door.

Walk through that deep corridor, pass through that stone wall, and look into the distance.

He can sense them.

Those rats were telling themselves that someone was coming.

The black market is located 100 meters underground; it's a paradise for rats.

They travel through underground pipes and crevices, living in this darkness for generations.

He knows every passage and every corner of this area like the back of his hand.

Animals are far more sensitive to danger than humans.

They don't know what an S-class hero is, or what a Homelander is.

But they could sense that the thing that made them tremble and flee desperately was approaching.

Lin Yuan closed his eyes and focused his attention.

The power of the Speaker of All Things flows within him.

Like an invisible thread, it connected his consciousness with those little things.

He heard it.

It wasn't a sound, it was a feeling. It was the feeling that every cell in those mice's bodies was screaming.

fear.

It wasn't fear of Lin Yuan—the rats had all fled when he came in and were now slowly crawling back.

It is a fear of something else.

The fear of that heavy, pile-driving footstep.

Every time that sound rang out, thousands upon thousands of rats trembled simultaneously deep underground.

Lin Yuan opened his eyes.

A slow, gentle smile curved his lips.

"They're here."

In the underground corridor.

Three figures were walking towards the secret room.

The corridor was narrow, and the red light of the emergency lights cast their shadows long, long.

Projected onto the wall, they looked like three twisted monsters.

The man at the front was burly, nearly two meters tall, his muscles stretching his black combat uniform taut.

The man in the middle was thin and walked with light steps, making almost no sound.

The last man was of medium build, wearing a dark gray trench coat and sunglasses.

Three S-tier heroes.

They are ranked fourth, fifth, and sixth in the Jiangcheng Heroes Association.

Iron Wall walked at the front, his eyes fixed on the petrified corpse at the end of the corridor.

The petrified creature's skin is so tough that even anti-materiel sniper rifles cannot penetrate it.

Now, it has been cut open.

The cut surface is smooth and flat, as if it were cut by a laser cutter, without any burrs.

"this one?"

Iron Wall scoffed, his deep, resonant voice echoing through the corridor.

A gust of wind swept past him, glancing at the cut, a disdainful smirk playing on its lips:

"Heat vision? Sounds impressive, but cutting through a Grade A trash is all it takes?"

"A showpiece."

Iron Wall shook his head. "I've seen this kind of ability many times."

Looks impressive, but useless in a real fight.

"That's not entirely true," the illusionist said, walking at the back with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"At least they killed a Thunder Cop."

"Thunder Cop?" Iron Wall sneered.

"That good-for-nothing who only knows how to pose for the camera?"

Who does he think he is? An S-rank, unable to even control his own lightning, he deserves to be strangled.

Jifeng laughed: "I heard he was begging for mercy when he was strangled to death?"

He's completely disgraced S-class heroes.

"That's why the president sent us." Iron Wall's voice carried a hint of arrogance.

"When a good-for-nothing dies, someone has to clean up the mess."

The three of them walked and talked.

His tone was as relaxed as if he were talking about dinner.

They are not unaware of the strength of their motherland.

But they have more confidence in their own abilities.

Its ironclad defenses remain unbroken to this day.

How hot can a heat field be?

Its speed is so great that no one has been able to catch up with it to this day.

Moving at tens of times the speed of sound, even the fastest thermal vision can't outrun him.

To this day, no one has been able to resist the mind control of illusionists.

He can plunge his opponents into the deepest dreams, allowing them to see the people they most want to see and hear the sounds they most want to hear.

In dreams, time can stretch out indefinitely.

A second in reality can be an hour, a day, or even a year in a dream.

With three people working together, there's no one they can't kill.

That's what they think.

"But speaking of which," Gale suddenly spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice, "that Homelander, I heard his sister died? Killed by Thunderbolts?"

"Hmm." Iron Wall nodded.

"Tsk, pathetic." There was no sympathy in Jifeng's tone, only contempt.

"He came to oppose the Hero Association for the sake of his dead sister."

Is it worth it?

"That's just how ordinary people are," Iron Wall said.

"Small vision and narrow perspective."

The death of a loved one makes me feel like the sky has fallen.

They don't understand that the world needs heroes, and heroes need to sacrifice.

His sister's sacrifice was for a greater good.

"You're right," Gale smiled.

"Unfortunately, he doesn't think that way."

"So he has to die." Iron Wall's voice turned cold.

The three of them walked up to the door that had been cut open.

Tie Bi stopped and stood sideways to one side of the door, with his back against the wall.

A gust of wind swept to the other side of the door, where it also leaned against the wall and held its breath.

The illusionist stood in the middle of the corridor, facing the door, took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of unusually large pupils.

None of the three looked inside.

No need to look.

They knew the Homelanders were inside.

They also knew that the people of their motherland knew they had arrived.

But they are waiting.

Waiting for the right opportunity.