Dual Transmigration: Starting from being captured and brought to the Hehuan Sect!

The car quickly stopped in front of the teachers' apartment building.

Han Yue didn't get out of the car; she simply nodded to Lin Mo through the window before turning around and leaving.

Lin Mo and Zeng Li walked into the building unit side by side. The motion-activated lights in the corridor turned on, and the dim light made their shadows stretch and shrink.

Once inside, Zeng Li reached out and pulled Lin Mo's arm to sit down on the sofa.

"Lin Mo,"

She looked up at him, her gaze filled with confusion, worry, and a stubbornness she herself didn't even realize.

"What exactly are you doing now?"

she……

Why did that policewoman call you "master"?

Lin Mo looked at her questioning eyes, scratched the back of his head, and put on a somewhat embarrassed expression.

"She called him 'Director,' and it had an accent; it sounded like 'Master.'"

He quickly made up an explanation, and then added to it.

"Actually, I'm from Bureau 749, which specializes in handling special cases."

I didn't go to my internship during my freshman year, did I?

Actually, I was selected to join Bureau 749, but I only took a leave of absence after I became a full member in my sophomore year.

This is a state secret, so I couldn't tell you before.

"Bureau 749?"

Zeng Li frowned. She seemed to have seen this name in some online novel—an organization that specialized in dealing with supernatural phenomena. She had always thought it was fictional.

But looking at Lin Mo's serious expression, and recalling those illogical scenes from earlier, she couldn't help but believe it a little.

"Yes, that kind of..."

A department that handles matters that ordinary people don't have access to.

Lin Mo tried his best to make his tone sound believable.

"So, those people just now, and Officer Han..."

Both fall under the scope of work.

Zeng Li nodded with some doubt. Although she still had many questions in her mind, she could sense that Lin Mo didn't want to say any more.

"Alright, teacher, I won't stay with you any longer."

There are still tasks to complete.

Lin Mo stood up from the sofa.

"good!"

Zeng Li stepped forward and gently hugged his waist.

Her face was pressed against his broad chest, her voice muffled, tinged with unease:

Be careful.

Whatever you're going to do...

Make sure you come back safely.

Lin Mo gently patted her beautiful back:

Don't worry.

Zeng Li hugged him for a while longer before letting go.

When I returned to my residence, it was already dark.

Lin Mo didn't turn on the lights. He walked straight through the dark living room to the French windows, took out his phone, and said softly to the screen:

"Master computer, full power."

The target is all members of the Illuminati, regardless of their identity, rank, or region.

Dig it all out.

The phone screen lit up for a moment, and the AI's voice came through the speaker:

"Command confirmed."

Connecting to global communication networks and financial clearing systems, retrieving historical session records from the dark web...

Initiating association with the identity graph.

Lin Mo placed his phone on the windowsill, put his hands in his pockets, and gazed at the city lights outside the window.

On the screen, data streams scroll at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, with countless names, addresses, and identity information being marked, compared, and associated one by one in the background.

All the clues that could be uncovered—those who had exchanged messages in encrypted communications, those who had secret dealings with each other's financial accounts, those who had shared logistics nodes, and those who appeared at the same coordinates at the same time—were being woven into a vast and intricate network by the mastermind with efficiency far exceeding that of humans.

He knew that the Illuminati had survived for so long not because of their large numbers, but because of their secrecy.

They don't use the internet or electronic devices; they rely on messengers, dead mail, one-way communication, and offline delivery, like a group of ghosts wandering outside the digital age.

But what they didn't know was that they were facing an artificial intelligence entity that was hundreds or thousands of years ahead of Earth's technology!

A moment later, the data flow on the phone screen slowed down, and lines of neatly formatted results appeared before Lin Mo's eyes.

The list is densely packed with names from all walks of life, including investors active in the financial sector, entrepreneurs who frequently appear at charity galas, celebrities who are active on the screen, scientists with core technologies, high-ranking officials responsible for policy-making, and several names and identities that even have extremely high public recognition.

Their job titles, addresses, recent movements, and commonly used contact methods were all clearly marked and traceable.

Lin Mo didn't count how many people there were. He just glanced at the neatly arranged items, then looked away, picked up his coat hanging on the hook in the entryway, and turned to leave.

He went downstairs and walked a short distance along the street.

We crossed the road and turned into a narrower alley.

Deep in the alley, there was a hardware store with its roller shutter door mostly pulled down, and dim light shone through the crack in the door.

He bent down and knocked on the door. There was a rustling sound from inside, and then the door was pushed open halfway.

The boss was a middle-aged man in his fifties, with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He nodded lazily when he saw Lin Mo.

What to buy?

"Nails! Give me a dozen or so boxes!"

The shopkeeper nodded, turned around, and carried dozens of boxes from deep within the shelf, stacking them on the counter. The nails and cardboard boxes collided with a dull thud.

Lin Mo paid the money, picked up the bag of nails, and turned to walk back.

Back at his lodgings, he emptied out dozens of boxes of nails and stacked them on the windowsill.

He didn't aim in any specific direction, and the nail flew out of the windowsill on its own, disappearing into the night as a blur.

On the other side of the ocean, in an office located in a high-rise office building in Japan.

Outside the window, the brightly lit financial district was bathed in nighttime light. A man in a dark gray suit was standing in front of the blinds, making a phone call. His tone was light and cheerful, his face full of smiles, and he kept nodding and bowing, making "hi hi hi" sounds.

A nail silently emerged from the darkness and swiftly pierced his head.

Then the sound of shattering glass rang out, the man's body went limp, his eyes filled with disbelief, and he collapsed to the ground with a thud.

The phone slipped from my fingers and slid a long way across the floor.

Meanwhile, inside the Pentagon in the United States, an elderly black general in a dark blue military uniform and wearing sunglasses stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, his hands behind his back, gazing at the distant, hazy skyline.

The morning light cut an arc of light across the glass, reflecting off the row of gleaming stars on his epaulets.

He was waiting for intelligence to come back from overseas, which was about the most advanced research direction of the future technology of Great Xia.

Suddenly, he noticed something.

In the distance, a very thin silver light flashed by, so fast it seemed like an optical illusion.

His gaze involuntarily followed it, but before he could discern what it was, his vision suddenly went black.

It was as if a light had been turned off in his mind, without any warning.

He maintained his standing posture for another two seconds, then leaned forward slightly, his forehead gently resting against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window, and didn't move again.

Outside the window, the city was still slowly waking up in the morning light, with traffic, people's voices, and construction noise in the distance—everything was running as usual.

No one noticed what was happening behind that window.

Around the world, almost simultaneously, this bizarre and silent scene is unfolding in different locations.

In the private study of an ancient castle in Quzhou, a silver-haired man in a bespoke suit was signing a document when his pen suddenly stopped.

He maintained the posture of holding the pen, but his body seemed to have lost all strength. He slowly leaned back in the chair, his head drooping in front of his chest, never to be raised again.