As soon as Cedric Harrington finished speaking, the armed soldiers of CORE offered no redundant warnings. Red light from their laser sights swept across the retinas.

Fire!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The deafening roar of gunfire tore through the tranquil space. In the millisecond the first bullet left the barrel, Julian Sterling’s brain had not even managed to issue a command to process the information, yet his body reacted automatically.

It was a reflex completely outside the realm of consciousness. Julian Sterling’s entire body folded, his long, slender legs borrowing momentum from the marble floor to execute a flawless mid-air somersault before sliding decisively behind the solid cast steel alloy desk.

Crash! The bullets lodged directly into the glass wall behind, creating stark white spiderwebs of cracks right at the exact position where he had been standing less than half a second ago.

Julian Sterling’s breath caught in his chest. He crouched low behind the metal shield, his wide eyes filled with absolute bewilderment.

He knew how to dodge bullets. Not the lucky evasion of an amateur, but a survival instinct honed to perfection, accurately calculating every angle of the bullet’s trajectory.

"What kind of hell has this body been through..."

That maddening thought flashed through Julian Sterling’s mind like a bolt of lightning. The former Julian Sterling was clearly just a child who grew up in the slums, suffering the cold shoulder of the Sterling family, so why did he possess such a terrifying degree of muscle memory?

At the same time, through the gap under the desk, Julian Sterling’s pupils contracted as he witnessed another chilling truth. Cedric Harrington was still standing there, both hands casually tucked into his pockets, his posture as leisurely as if he were strolling through a garden. Dozens of muzzles were frantically spitting fire all around, but absolutely not a single bullet was directed toward Cedric Harrington.

The hounds of CORE did not consider Cedric Harrington a target for elimination at all. Or rather, his authority here was high enough that they automatically avoided him in their bullet trajectories.

Meanwhile, on the lower floors of the building, darkness had completely descended.

Ethan Caldwell led the assault team, holding a silenced pistol in one hand while the other dropped a miniature EMP device onto the floor. A sudden burst of electromagnetic pulse spread outward. The entire security camera and magnetic lock systems of the lower floor instantly died, turning into a pile of useless scrap metal.

Ethan Caldwell’s combat style at this moment was unlike any professional soldier or bodyguard one would typically see. There was no rigid tactical formation, nor was there any redundant defense. He moved as swiftly as a phantom, cruel and accurate to a twisted degree.

Every passing footstep dragged down a fallen enemy, delivering devastating blows right at their fatal pressure points. This was not a fighting method meant to merely incapacitate an opponent, but the sheer instinct of someone who had truly trampled over mountains of corpses and seas of blood to survive.

As he snapped the neck of a soldier blocking the way with his bare hands, his tone through the earpiece still managed to maintain a soothing steadiness: "Jules, hold your position."

However, the very moment the sentence ended, a series of ear-piercing gunshots from the upper floor echoed directly into his eardrums through the communication device.

Ethan Caldwell’s movements paused for half a beat.

His deep black eyes, which were already cold, instantly sank into a realm of endless darkness; the amber light reflecting in his pupils surged with a murderous intent so palpable that it made the subordinates walking behind him shudder in fear.

No one was allowed to touch his person. Whoever dared to do so would be crushed into absolute scum.

Back in the high-floor room, bullets were still flying wildly. The tempered glass finally could not withstand the pressure, shattering into tiny fragments that fell like a downpour of glass rain. The acrid smoke of gunfire permeated the entire space.

Cedric Harrington stood in a safe, hidden corner, his profound eyes coldly observing Julian Sterling’s struggling figure behind the desk. He had no intention of drawing a weapon to help, nor did he order the soldiers to cease fire. He simply stood there, like a cold-blooded examiner grading a life-or-death test.

"This is the final test." Cedric Harrington’s voice was not loud, but thanks to audio enhancement equipment, it still transmitted clearly straight into Julian Sterling’s ears amidst the sound of gunfire: "If you die here, Julian... then it proves you are nothing but a defective product. And defective products do not deserve to be remembered."

In Cedric Harrington’s eyes, Julian Sterling at this moment was not Edward Sterling’s younger brother, let alone Ethan Caldwell’s life partner. He was merely a candidate, an applicant, an experimental subject needing to prove his value of existence. If he could not overcome this, then his death would not be a pity at all.

Boom!

A deafening explosion rang out from the main door. The sturdy armored door was blown off its hinges by a shaped explosive charge, slamming heavily onto the stone floor.

Before the dust and smoke could dissipate, a tall, dark silhouette had already dashed in like a grim reaper.

Thwack!

The first bullet from Ethan Caldwell’s muzzle accurately lodged right in the center of the forehead of the CORE soldier who was about to throw a grenade at Julian Sterling. That man collapsed like a rotting tree trunk.

Seeing the man’s appearance, Julian Sterling did not call out. The synchronization between them had reached a terrifying level. Without needing a single word of communication, the moment Ethan Caldwell swept a volley of suppressing fire toward the left corner, Julian Sterling immediately pressed his hands on the edge of the desk, vaulted toward the right corner, and used the momentum to slide across the floor to dodge the enemy’s counter-attack bullets, simultaneously diverting their attention.

Bang! Bang!

Sharp gunshots rang out, Ethan Caldwell finished off the remaining enemies in the room with chilling precision.

Right as the corpse of the final enemy fell, Ethan Caldwell rushed over, reaching out a sturdy arm to pull Julian Sterling up from the ground, enveloping him tightly into his violently heaving chest. The force of the embrace was so strong that it caused Julian a bit of pain, yet it brought an absolute sense of security.

"I told you..." Ethan Caldwell’s voice was deep and hoarse, carrying his panting breath and an undissipated murderous intent, whispering close to Julian Sterling’s ear: "No one is allowed to touch you."

But everything was not over yet.

An emotionless AI voice echoed from the building’s central speaker system: "Warning: Unauthorized intrusion. Activating S-Class Node lockdown protocol."

Colossal steel curtains from the ceiling began to slam down, sealing off all exits and entrances. Alarm lights flashed red incessantly. Accompanied by this was an eerie hissing sound emitting from the ventilation ducts; the system was pumping wide-area anesthetic gas into the room.

Through the faint screen of smoke, Cedric Harrington had retreated deep into the emergency exit area that automatically opened behind him, where the steel curtains could not reach. He looked at Julian Sterling nestling in Ethan Caldwell’s chest, the corners of his lips curling into an unpredictable smile.

"Good luck." He said, and then the emergency door slammed shut, trapping both of them in the space now flooding with gas.

Ethan Caldwell did not hesitate at all. He held tightly onto Julian Sterling’s waist, turning to look toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that had been riddled with cracks from the bullets.

"Hold onto my neck tightly!"

Without waiting for Julian Sterling to reply, Ethan Caldwell pulled a specialized glass-breaching explosive device from his belt and threw it straight onto the glass surface. Boom! The entire massive pane of tempered glass shattered, opening up into a bottomless dark void of the St. Lawrence night sky. The night wind whipped inward, temporarily dispersing the anesthetic gas.

Ethan Caldwell fired a grappling hook from the device on his arm up to a steel beam structure of the opposite building, then, holding Julian Sterling tightly, he leaped straight out into the mid-air without a moment of hesitation.

Late at night, at the suburban villa.

The surroundings were so profoundly tranquil that one could distinctly hear the incessant chirping of insects outside. After returning from the brink of death, Ethan Caldwell had to step out to handle several security matters and clean up the aftermath alongside Felix Tate and Louis York. Julian Sterling sat all alone in the spacious bedroom. The warm yellow light cast a faint glow upon his somewhat pale face, yet his eyes shone with a chilling, piercing brilliance.

He held the smartphone in his hand, his slender finger hovering over an unsaved string of numbers, one that he had nevertheless committed to memory a very long time ago. After a few fleeting seconds of hesitation, he pressed the call button.

The other end of the line rang for a painstakingly long time. Just as it seemed on the verge of automatically disconnecting, a soft click resonated through the receiver.

"Hello." The gentle, elegant, yet unmistakably exhausted voice of Catherine Sterling drifted through the speaker.

There was no warm greeting characteristic of a loving mother and son. Instead, a heavy, suffocating atmosphere instantly enveloped the entire connection. Julian Sterling gripped the edge of the blanket tightly, his knuckles turning white, and cut straight to the chase with a low, freezing tone entirely dev