CHAPTER 136: CHAPTER 137: THE SILENT OFFENSIVE

The rain had stopped, but the streets of East Marrow still glistened, reflecting fractured neon in shimmering pools. In the upper tiers of Apex Holdings’ central spire, Lin Feng moved through the command balcony, his gaze tracing the sprawling city below. Every sector, every light, every shadow—it was all a chessboard. And someone was already making the first moves against him.

Since implementing the dual-tier leadership model, Apex had accelerated in ways even Lin hadn’t fully predicted. Projects long trapped in bureaucratic loops were flowing again. Resource efficiency was at a five-year high. Even the notoriously uncooperative southern branch had submitted to Jiang Mei’s oversight protocols without protest.

But not all acceleration was good.

Reports from the intelligence wing showed subtle disruptions—communications delays, unexplained shortages, and the sudden disappearance of two mid-level officers in the Golden Corridor sector. It wasn’t sabotage with a heavy hand. This was needlework—precise, invisible until the wound began to fester.

Ren Yan approached from behind, holding a thin holo-slate. "We’ve confirmed the Southern Corridor incident wasn’t a logistics error. Someone inserted false route data into the mainframe. That’s why the convoy never reached Hub Nine."

Lin took the slate and scanned the data. "Internal breach?"

"Not exactly. The signature is clean, but the execution is too perfect. Whoever did it understands our security protocols—deeply. This wasn’t random. This was intimate."

Lin set the slate down. "Keller."

Ren hesitated. "We can’t confirm—"

"It’s him," Lin said quietly, eyes hardening. "He warned me before this started. And Keller never wastes words."

Later that day, the council gathered in Apex’s Strategic Nexus. The room was bathed in cool, shifting blue light from the live city grid projections.

"This is a coordinated infiltration," Lin began, not bothering with formalities. "Keller’s testing us—not for collapse, but for reaction speed."

Zhao Yinuo crossed her arms. "And your solution? Hunt him down in his own shadow? We’ve tried before. He’s always two moves ahead."

"That’s why," Lin replied, "we stop chasing and start drawing him in."

Jiang Mei leaned forward. "A trap?"

"A mirror," Lin corrected. "If Keller’s strength is precision and subtlety, then we build an operation that demands him to expose himself. Something valuable enough that he can’t resist touching it."

Li Qingchen frowned. "And what would that be?"

Lin glanced at the southern grid projection. "We fabricate a breakthrough—one so strategically critical that it appears unprotected. Let him come for it. And when he does, we don’t close the net immediately. We let him think he’s inside until it’s too late to walk out."

Ren Yan studied him. "Dangerous. If he realizes it’s bait—"

"He won’t," Lin interrupted. "Because it won’t look like bait. It’ll look like opportunity."

The plan began to take shape over the next seventy-two hours. Apex’s Research Division "announced" a new hyper-compression tech that could cut freight size by 70% without cost increases—an invention Keller’s network would kill to control. Only a select few within Apex knew it didn’t actually exist.

The fabricated prototype was moved to a seemingly under-guarded facility in the outer sector, patrolled by minimal visible security. In reality, the building was a fortress under camouflage—layers of adaptive shielding, biometric traps, and drone sentinels running silent in the upper floors.

Every corridor was mapped. Every ventilation shaft monitored. Every potential exit narrowed to a single choke point.

Lin himself took residence in the observation hub above the facility, watching the feeds. No movement the first night. None the second. But on the third night—

A flicker.

One of the exterior cameras glitched for less than a second. Not enough for most to notice. But Lin had been waiting for exactly that.

"He’s here," Lin said into the comms.

Jiang Mei’s voice came back. "Already?"

"Lock grid three, but leave corridor two open. He’ll think it’s his escape route."

Inside the facility, a lone shadow moved like smoke—precise, economical, unhurried. The infiltrator slipped through bypassed locks, never touching the same surface twice, his mask feeding constant readouts into his field of vision.

Lin watched him from the control hub. Even without seeing his face, he knew the gait, the weight distribution. Keller.

The infiltrator reached the core vault and paused. Then he turned—not toward the false prototype, but toward one of the maintenance walls.

Lin’s eyes narrowed. "He knows."

The wall split silently, revealing a secondary chamber—a hidden server node Apex had left intentionally unmarked. It wasn’t part of the trap.

"Damn," Ren Yan muttered over comms. "He’s after our real asset."

Lin didn’t hesitate. "Lock the building. Now."

Every exit sealed in an instant. The silent sentinels activated, their targeting systems locking onto Keller’s position. But he was already moving, vaulting over barriers, forcing security drones to collide as he doubled back.

It was a dance, and he was still leading.

Lin stepped away from the observation console. "Keep him moving toward corridor two. I’m going down there."

"Lin, that’s—" Ren began, but Lin was already gone.

The echo of footsteps in the steel corridor was sharp, measured. Lin walked without hurry, his coat brushing the walls as the hum of the lockdown surrounded him.

At the far end, Keller appeared—mask off, face illuminated by the dim red of emergency lights. His expression was calm, almost amused.

"You’ve grown slower," Keller said.

"Or maybe you’ve grown predictable," Lin countered.

Keller’s eyes flicked toward the sealed doors. "So this was your game. The bait was clever, but the real treasure is always the one you try to hide, isn’t it?"

"And yet," Lin said, stepping closer, "you’re still inside my cage."

Keller smiled faintly. "Cages are just rooms with temporary walls."

Before Lin could respond, Keller triggered something on his wrist. The lights flickered, and a deafening roar filled the corridor as one of the facility’s outer walls erupted.

By the time the dust settled, Keller was gone.

In the aftermath, the breach was patched, the damage controlled. But the server node was empty.

Jiang Mei slammed the report down in front of Lin. "He took the whole encryption core. Every unprocessed intel packet from the last six months."

Lin stared at it for a long moment. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.

"Good," he said. "Now I know exactly where he’ll go next."

Because for all Keller had stolen, Lin had left one thing buried in that data—a breadcrumb he couldn’t ignore.

And this time, Lin wouldn’t be waiting behind glass.