Elsewhere, one area drew intense Spirit Fox activity: a slum district. Athena had flagged it as suspicious due to an overlapping pattern—between the incident sites, the attackers' residences, and the messengers' routes.

Humans might have struggled to detect the anomaly, but Athena had no such difficulty. The moment she spotted the oddity—a nail sticking out—she dug deeper.

Furthermore, when Athena resorted to the surveillance methods usually restricted by her mother, she gained a crystal-clear visualization of all electronic devices connected to the network across the district.

Every household had such devices—phones, computers, and other appliances accessing the internet.

But the villa?

It emitted no signal whatsoever.

That anomaly stood out like a different species among its surroundings—silent, disconnected, and glaringly out of place.

Preliminary analysis led to a peculiar target: a 'villa'—a well-built house standing out in the middle of the slum.

To be clear, slums in Province N weren't just makeshift shacks like in the movies. Many were built with bricks and cement, proper homes by appearance.

However, compared to more affluent areas, their facilities lacked almost everything—no clean water, no proper sanitation, often no steady power.

Athena's findings prompted Spirit Fox to gather more intel on the slum zones. Testimonies from the arrested suspects added new variables, narrowing their estimates. Soon, they drew a troubling conclusion about how weapons had been moved.

No—they hadn't been smuggled in. They were manufactured locally. A terrifying conclusion, save for some critical components, which likely had to be imported illegally.

From a geographical analysis, Athena even raised the possibility of DIY submarines being used to smuggle in restricted parts. It wasn't without precedent—after all, the Tiger Gang's downfall had revealed similar techniques.

No matter how much Province N bragged about improved surveillance and tighter border control, loopholes always existed. Mistakes, if nothing else, served to prevent repeat failures.

Now, six unmarked vans were en route to the suspected villa—followed at a distance by two conspicuous Aegis units. The plan was to strike fast and covertly, catching the occupants off guard. The Aegis would act as both insurance and heavy support if things went sideways.

According to Athena, this slum—like many others in Province N—wasn't exactly welcoming to law enforcement, let alone Spirit Fox.

They had once thrived off crime. For many, helping gangs had been no different from holding a job. Now that Spirit Fox had crushed those gangs, the residents' financial lifelines were cut.

And anyone who threatened their wealth or livelihood?

Would be seen as the enemy.

That was an eternal truth.

The six vans split into two groups—one taking the western route, the other continuing toward the target.

As the convoy moved along narrow roads barely wide enough for a single vehicle, the operatives could clearly observe the residents' activities.

Most people loitered outside, chatting freely. A few tea shops bustled with games—likely gambling for fleeting thrills and short-lived earnings.

Their unusual arrival didn't go unnoticed. Curious eyes followed the convoy as it wound through the cramped streets.

Only a handful of cars were seen, parked at odd angles—most households here didn't own vehicles.

Frankly, Athena had to admit—even with a provincial-wide surveillance system, areas like this posed logistical challenges for Spirit Fox.

Thankfully, their destination wasn't a remote village, but neither was it a proper town.

Most residents here lived illegally—constructing homes without permits, grabbing land in hopes of future compensation if redevelopment occurred.

It was a persistent headache for the government. Forced evictions would only provoke backlash, painting the authorities as tyrants bullying the poor.

Indeed, many here struggled to make ends meet.

But just as many exploited the gray area between legality and morality, living off loopholes and ambiguity.

The government avoided stirring up unnecessary controversy—especially in a climate where the narrative of rich vs. poor could spiral quickly.

Public gossip loved nothing more than an underdog tale.

Besides, there were always vested interests eager to amplify the chaos or burn it further.

Now, the convoy came to a halt.

The streets ahead narrowed even more—tight enough that only motorbikes could pass.

Spirit Fox dismounted.

Their presence made everyone nearby instinctively step back.

In the darkness, the glint of firearms—even from disciplined hands—was enough to chill any soul.

Through the narrow streets, the group of Spirit Fox operators hustled across the convoluted network of buildings, ignoring the prying eyes around them.

A few members remained behind to guard the extraction point near the vehicles. The rest moved in two tight column formations, advancing aggressively toward the designated villa.

As they progressed, more and more residents gathered to watch.

The team leader issued a warning in a firm voice:

"Stay vigilant. This area is known to be hostile to officials. We might get an unfriendly welcome."

"Understood."

"Everyone, watch your sector."

"Copied."

Each operator took responsibility for her assigned angle. The point women covered the front, the middle flanks were held steady, and the rear guard watched their six.

Suddenly, a rock struck one of the operator's helmets with a dull clack.

The formation immediately halted. The leader's eyes followed the trajectory.

Her gaze landed on a child—frozen, mid-step. A woman beside him instantly yanked him back behind her.

A man stepped forward, placing himself between the operators and the pair.

"What's the matter? You want problems?" he growled, chest puffed and stance wide.

The Spirit Fox girls stood motionless, speechless for a moment.

Please, they weren't even doing anything. They were just observing who had the nerve to throw a rock.

But part of them suspected the act wasn't random. This whole group might be deliberately provoking them.

In such a hostile environment, the worst-case scenario was being encircled—losing every fallback or escape option.

"Ignore them. Stay on mission. We're wasting time. The other team is waiting for us," the leader ordered calmly.

The formation resumed, boots crunching against the broken pavement.

But the noise from the crowd intensified. Some residents started banging on pots and pans, raising a ruckus that spread in the direction of the team's advance.

One of the operators voiced the concern:

"What are they doing?"

"They're interfering," the leader responded through comms.

An experienced team member added, "They might not know who we're after—but they'll alert someone."

"Clear the comms," the leader cut in firmly. The channel went silent again.

Internally, she made a note: This town needs a cure.

The level of resentment brewing here—directed at the government, at enforcement—was a festering threat.

If left unaddressed, it could spiral into something worse. The slums might grow unchecked and become a nightmare—just like the lawless zones in the nations of the Southern Bush continent.

The expansion of the slum was reaching a dangerous tipping point—one where no countermeasures would be effective anymore. If left unchecked, the growth might spiral beyond recovery. By the time anyone acted, it could already be too late.

She had made up her mind: this couldn't be ignored. She would report her concerns to Sister Su, who in turn would forward the message to Yang Qingyue. These decisions weren't hers to make—but she understood the gravity of the situation well enough to raise the flag.

As they moved through the cramped alleys and finally approached their objective, the team linked up with another unit that had dismounted from the opposite side. The vans had split up earlier, approaching from multiple routes to encircle the target location with minimal exposure and to ensure nobody escaped if alerted.

The ISR—satellites and drones nearby to assist the mission controlled by Athena—above was watching to discern any suspicious person making escape impossible without noticing at all.

Now, the full cordon was in place.

There was no need for verbal coordination. Each woman knew her role. The two squads silently stacked up near the front gate—tight, disciplined, and ready.

One operator stepped forward. From a pouch on her vest, she pulled out a thin, flexible strip of explosive—a plastic slap charge—and quickly attached it to the metal gate's latch.

With a hand gesture—fist closed, arm pumping twice—she signaled: Breach imminent. Then she quickly retreated to the stack.

The rest of the team stepped back, positioning themselves behind cover.

Three... two... one...

The two lead operators instinctively lowered their heads, bracing for the shockwave.

Boom!

The explosive charge detonated with a deep thud, forcing the metal gate to screech and fold inward under pressure. Fragments scattered. No time to wait.

Like liquid through a breach, the operators surged in, splitting into pairs to sweep the perimeter and secure potential exit points.

While containment teams fanned out around the structure to intercept any fleeing suspects, the primary assault team—eight female operators—rushed to the front door in a seamless blur of motion.

The pointwoman raised her boot and slammed it against the door, splintering the frame.

Before the dust could even settle, her partner hurled a nine-banger inside.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A trio of rapid concussive blasts stunned the interior.

In perfect sync, the eight-woman team flooded through the entryway—each with assigned angles and sectors to clear.

"Province N Police!"