Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Zhang Qiliang quietly looked at Xiao Fang.

Xiao Fang stared intently at Zhang Qiliang.

Watching Zhang Qiliang unscrew the cap, watching him raise the bottle, watching him slowly bring it to his lips.

Zhang Qiliang smiled.

Yes, it is indeed very cold.

"He found it!"

"action!"

20 Three seconds

"action!"

The next moment, time seemed to be stretched out indefinitely.

Brother Zhao's bed has the best position, offering a clear view of the entire room and most of the living room.

Then he saw that as "Liu Wei" stopped drinking water, the friendly smile on Chen Yu's face, whom Xiao Fang had brought, vanished instantly, replaced by a hunter's focused and cold expression, as if locking onto his prey.

Chen Yu suddenly took a large step back, the movement swift and fluid, while his right hand reached out with lightning speed to his waist—there, under the loose polo shirt, the outline of a hard object suddenly became prominent.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the firefighter who had been squatting in the corner, seemingly focused on studying the floor plan, suddenly stood up, turned around, and moved with perfect coordination.

He had somehow already grasped a black pistol in his hand. The muzzle wasn't pointed directly into the bedroom, but rather in a professional, low-profile, alert stance, ready to cover multiple angles at any moment, pointing towards the bedroom door.

His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, fixed on Zhang Qiliang, and the relaxed feeling he had when inspecting potential hazards was completely gone.

The other two firefighters in the living room, who seemed to be organizing tools, reacted just as quickly.

Almost at the same time as Chen Yu retreated, one of them grabbed the two dark green, tightly woven, long snake-catching bags from the ground and deftly untied the drawstrings.

The other person flicked his hands, and the folded, fine metal mesh unfolded part of itself as if it had come to life. The metal frame emitted a slight clanging sound, and he turned his body slightly, with the mesh opening vaguely pointing into the bedroom.

Hurried footsteps came from the direction of the kitchen.

As if they had rehearsed countless times, the two firefighters who had been inspecting the pipes inside rushed out almost at the same time.

Their objective was extremely clear: one of them lunged at the tightly closed window in the living room, pressed his palm hard on a certain spot on the window frame—there seemed to be a pre-installed latch there—and quickly pulled down the inner latch with his other hand, all in one smooth motion.

The other man swept across the living room like a whirlwind, rushing straight to the front door. With a loud bang, he slammed the door shut, locking it from the inside, and used his burly body to block the main exit from that direction.

This is only what Brother Zhao can see within this narrow space.

In that instant, Zhang Qiliang's perception, which was dozens of times sharper than that of ordinary people, acted like an invisible radar wave, instantly capturing the chaos and threat spreading rapidly outward from Room 302:

Upstairs: Heavy running sounds came from the ceiling. At least three or four people were moving down quickly. Their steps were heavy and well-trained, definitely not those of ordinary residents.

Downstairs: The once quiet corridors and stairwells were filled with the sound of footsteps, like a dense drumbeat, converging from each floor upwards, heavy, rapid, and carrying a clear intention to encircle.

In the next room: a clear sound of a door being broken down (perhaps 301 or 303?), the subtle sound of wood chips flying, followed by more hurried footsteps rushing into the next space, seemingly conducting a rapid search and control.

Walkie-talkie communication: At least three compressed electromagnetic tones on different frequency bands briefly intersected in the air. In one of the moments with slightly higher clarity, a calm and rapid command came through: "...Action team, enter, seal off all exits, prioritize non-lethal control measures, avoid lethal damage as much as possible, repeat, avoid lethal damage as much as possible."

Further away: on the street below, the engines of more than one high-horsepower car were started roughly at almost the same time, emitting a deep and powerful roar, and the tires screeching as they rubbed against the ground, clearly preparing to block the road or provide rapid support.

All the sounds, movements, and intentions, like countless cold threads, instantly wove into a huge, tight, and rapidly closing net in Zhang Qiliang's highly concentrated perception.

He is at the center of the network.

In a flash, Zhang Qiliang made his move.

It's not the kind of "movement" that most people understand.

There was no warning, no build-up of energy, and not even a noticeable muscle tension.

Zhang Qiliang's body seemed to instantly break free from the constraints of inertia, transforming into a blurry gray phantom.

In the next three seconds, Zhang Qiliang and the six people in the room completed three exchanges.

First encounter:

Zhang Qiliang rushed forward, and the six people inside immediately made the most professional response.

Chen Yu reacted the fastest. The instant Zhang Qiliang's shoulder twitched, his body, which had retreated to the wall, was pulled by a spring and slid half a step to the side and back, completely pressing against the wall to reduce the angle of impact.

At the same time, the hand that had been on his waist was finally completely pulled out, and what he held was not an ordinary pistol, but a compact tactical pistol with a multi-functional rail and what appeared to be an electric shock or injection device. The muzzle was slightly adjusted as Zhang Qiliang lunged forward.

In the corner of the living room, the "firefighter" who had been in charge of the main-view monitoring—perhaps he should be called the operation commander—took two quick and steady steps to the side and forward in the same frame as Zhang Qiliang activated the system, keeping his line of sight, the muzzle of his gun, and Zhang Qiliang's figure within a clear angle, blocking the path to the living room.

In Zhang Qiliang's perception, the middle-aged man's breathing didn't even quicken; only his eyes were sharp as knives.

Two team members, each holding a net and a specially made restraint bag, simultaneously spread out to both sides of the room. This was not a panicked escape, but a conscious effort to expand their control area and ensure that their equipment was ready to be thrown or activated at any time.

Their movement was ingenious, perfectly filling the fire gap between the commander and Chen Yu.

What truly made Zhang Qiliang's gaze sharpen were the two people guarding the window and the door.

Faced with his sudden, explosive start, the burly man blocking the door remained motionless, simply pressing his shoulders even harder against the door as if rooted to the spot.

Meanwhile, the man by the window, in that brief moment, swiftly pulled a foldable, transparent riot shield from the bottom of what appeared to be an ordinary tool bag at his feet. With a soft "click," the shield unfolded and was firmly placed in front of the window, blocking the view of the glass.

Second encounter:

Zhang Qiliang's charging afterimage suddenly veered away when he was still more than half a meter away from Chen Yu, as if pulled by an invisible force, and rushed towards the right side of the room—the narrow gap between Brother Zhao's bed and the wall.

The speed was so fast that it almost created the illusion of teleportation in the eyes of ordinary people.

His right hand then extended, fingers slightly spread, the target not to attack anyone, but... the tactical pistol that Chen Yu had just raised and hadn't yet fully aimed at.

Chen Yu felt an irresistible, hydraulic clamping force on his right wrist where he was holding the gun. Then, his palm went empty, and the steel gun changed hands.

He didn't even see how the other person did it; all he could see was a blur of an arm swinging across his retina, and a sharp pain in his wrist that exploded half a second later—the instantaneous tearing of his joints and ligaments when the weapon was forcibly removed at supersonic speed.

"Ugh!" Chen Yu groaned, his fighting instincts overriding everything.

Before the shock of losing his weapon could even turn into fear, his body, following the muscle memory formed through countless training sessions, abandoned his original position without hesitation. His center of gravity suddenly dropped, and with a standard tactical roll, he hid behind the only solid wood wardrobe in the room, trying to find cover.

This swift and decisive disarming maneuver completely shattered the tense atmosphere in the room.

The commander in the living room's pupils contracted sharply, his hand holding the gun became even more steady, but his index finger on the trigger loosened almost imperceptibly by half a point—the target's threat level and speed assessment had to be adjusted upwards instantly!

The two machine gunners, who were originally in a semi-encircling position, almost simultaneously changed from a standing position to a low crouch. This is the standard response when facing a high-speed, unpredictable target, which can reduce the attack surface and prepare for the next second of pouncing or throwing.

They had already raised their nets and bags, ready to go.

The shield bearer at the window instantly shrank behind his shield, revealing only a pair of wary eyes. The edge of the shield pressed firmly against the window frame and the wall, ready to withstand the impact.

Zhang Qiliang, who had seized the gun, did not pause for a moment, nor did he even look at the captured weapon, which had a strange, cold touch.

Taking advantage of the momentum of his rightward leap, Zhang Qiliang lightly pushed off the wall, his body suddenly turning in a way that defied the laws of physics. He seemed to break free from the constraints of gravity, transforming into a gray shadow that darted along the ground, and "slid" directly into the slightly larger living room through the gap between the door frame and the wall by the smallest margin!

This sudden change of direction was completely unexpected.

Their formation is designed for indoor combat and containment, and when targets move in this almost "blinking" manner, a slight delay in reaction is inevitable.

The moment Zhang Qiliang entered the living room, the commander, who had maintained absolute composure and remained on guard with his gun, suddenly contracted his pupils.

Without the slightest hesitation, in a moment when he couldn't be sure of hitting the target and might accidentally injure his teammates, he made the right choice—give up firing, retreat quickly to the side and back, and shouted, "Stop him!"

The commander's response was undeniably decisive, but Zhang Qiliang was even faster.

His toes barely touched the living room floor tiles before his body unleashed an astonishing thrust, swerving in a subtle arc to the side and front of the commander's retreating path!

Almost at the same time, the two mechanics who were originally responsible for providing support in the living room also reacted.

One of them roared and hurled the unfolded metal net in front of Zhang Qiliang's path of attack, while the other waved a specially made restraint bag, trying to put it over his lower body.

Their teamwork was impeccable, and their blocking angles were quite cunning.

However, just before Zhang Qiliang's body was about to collide with the commander and be caught in the net, it was as if an invisible rope suddenly lifted him up, and his whole body lightly "leaped" into the air.

The brief low-altitude hovering and horizontal movement allowed the thrown net to glide past their feet, and the waving restraints to miss their soles.

His passing of the commander was more like a precise "brush".

His shoulder seemed to brush lightly against the commander's wrist holding the gun. The force seemed small, but it made the latter's arm go numb, and the gun involuntarily slipped from his hand.

The whole process was so fast it was dizzying, as if the two sides had rehearsed it countless times. Zhang Qiliang "slipped" through the gap between everyone's combined attacks in an elegant and strange way and flew towards the living room window.

Upon seeing this, the team member standing guard by the window, who had been holding up his riot shield, let out a low growl and put all his strength into the shield, preparing to meet the most violent impact.

Zhang Qiliang did indeed rush over, his speed so fast that he left afterimages on my retina.

At the last moment before the shield, his arm shot out like a snake, his five fingers like hooks, gripping the upper edge of the shield at an incredible angle and with incredible strength, and then with a flick of his wrist!

The team member felt an irresistible, almost violent, spinning force coming from the shield. His hand instantly split open, and his entire arm and even half of his body were pulled to the side. The heavy riot shield was easily snatched away and flung away like a child's toy, crashing into the wall in the distance with a loud bang!

The window was wide open in front of me, and outside the window was a gradually becoming familiar corridor.

Zhang Qiliang continued his momentum, about to smash through the glass and rush into the stairwell.

At that very moment, Zhang Qiliang's body once again defied inertia, and with even more astonishing control than when he started, he brought the car to a sudden stop!

Their feet even made a slight, sharp sound as they scraped against the tiled floor.

Almost at the same instant he stopped—

"call--!"

A muffled whistling sound came from the exterior wall above the window!

A large, sturdy net with heavy weights along its edges, like a premeditated animal trap, suddenly fell from a hidden hanging point outside the window, precisely covering the entire exterior of the window. Some of it even slipped into the room through the gaps above the window frame, making a muffled "plop" sound.

The mesh reflected a dark luster under the light, clearly indicating that it was made of a special material.

If Zhang Qiliang hadn't stopped and had instead chosen to smash the glass, he would have ended up in this massive net that had fallen from the sky, instantly becoming entangled and bound!

Now, the net hangs futilely on the window frame, swaying slightly.

Zhang Qiliang didn't even glance at it.

He simply reached out, his five fingers gripping the barbed wire mesh like steel pincers, and casually pulled it downwards, along with the hooked aluminum window frame—

"Creak—crash!!"

Amidst the ear-piercing sounds of metal twisting and shattering, the entire window, along with its specially made large netting, was forcibly torn off and thrown onto the living room floor like a pile of cheap garbage, raising a cloud of dust.

There were no further obstacles leading to the exit of the building.

Only then did Zhang Qiliang slowly turn around.

At this moment: the commander was lunging toward the pistol that had been flung away, his finger about to touch the handle; two machine gunners, their faces filled with shock and anger, were still rushing toward him due to inertia; the team member whose shield had been taken away was struggling to get up; and Chen Yu had just rushed out of the bedroom, his face ashen.

Thus, the entire process, from the moment Zhang Qiliang put down the drink, took less than three seconds.

Facing these faces—some shocked, some angry, some resolute—Zhang Qiliang smiled slightly.

"Goodbye."

21 The world is vast

The rest is simple.

Once inside the building, Zhang Qiliang felt like a dragon entering the sea.

"Unit exit! Seal off the unit exit!"

"Two groups! Two groups! Target has entered the stairwell! Repeat, target has entered the stairwell!"

"Attention, Groups 3! Attention, Groups 3! The target may be moving upwards! Block the stairs!"

"He's too fast—!"

The walkie-talkie frequency was instantly crammed with short, urgent shouts and warnings, every syllable stretched to its limit, mixed with heavy running sounds and the muffled thuds of equipment colliding.

From upstairs came the sound of hurried footsteps and the soft click of gun bolts being pulled back. From just one direction, at least seven or eight fully armed guards were rushing down the stairs.

However, their speed and anticipation appeared clumsy and sluggish in the face of Zhang Qiliang's movement, which defied physical intuition.

In the stairwell, Zhang Qiliang did not step on any of the stairs, but lightly touched the walls, railings, and pipes hanging from the ceiling at the corners of the stairs.

Each touch produced a barely audible "tap" sound, yet it unleashed an astonishing reverse thrust, causing his body to "flicker" upwards at a trajectory far exceeding the concept of "running."

Zhang Qiliang's figure suddenly shifted sideways after using the momentum again. His toes touched the opposite wall, and his whole body was pulled diagonally up as if by an invisible rope, slicing through a sharp angle and barely passing less than half a meter above the heads of the two special agents. The wind pressure he generated made their hair flutter.

The two felt a sudden darkness above them, and when they looked up in surprise, they saw a blurry gray figure disappear into the corner of the stairs above.

two seconds.

From the third-floor stairwell to the sixth-floor stairwell, a vertical distance of over nine meters, plus several twists and turns, Zhang Qiliang only used four leaps, without making any actual contact with any interceptors throughout the entire process.

As expected, the heavy iron door leading to the rooftop was tightly shut.

Not only was there a heavy chain lock hanging on the door, but also a clear sound of bodies rubbing against the door and heavy breathing could be heard from behind it—at least three people, using their full weight and any possible reinforcements, had blocked the area behind the door like an impenetrable wall.