The rain poured heavily that night.

In an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city, the sound of footsteps echoed softly on the wet concrete floor. Inside, several broad-shouldered men stood waiting, dressed in all black with low hats concealing their faces.

One of them raised a phone, initiating a video call.

Shopia Joy’s face appeared behind prison bars, still holding her arrogant expression despite now wearing an inmate uniform.

“Are you ready?” she asked coldly.

“Ready, Madam Joy,” the man replied.

“First target: Hunter’s headquarters security system. Shut down all cameras for five minutes. Then plant a tracker in the main conference room. I want to know who’s...