The night was as dark as ink, pitch-black and hard to distinguish by touch. In the desolate wilderness, a huge estate was brightly lit, shadows of trees swaying in the wind, making slight rustling sounds, as if lovers whispering secrets. Outside the estate, some people were whispering, their flashlights sweeping in one direction, as one person approached wielding a strong flashlight and holding a pistol, like facing a formidable enemy.
In the black night, Luo Zheng dialed the ambassador's phone, and whispered, "Go."
"Understood." The ambassador's voice echoed on the phone. As planned, the ambassador's people went to sabotage the estate's phone lines, a line that Lan Xing had painstakingly found. The ambassador's intelligence personnel knew the terrain well, making this task easy — with the phone lines cut, everything would be much more manageable.
