Chapter Sixty: Direct Confrontation (Part One)

As soon as the young soldier finished speaking, an oppressive silence fell over the crowd. Even Sun Biao, on the other end of the radio, hadn't expected such a turn of events. The atmosphere became so tense that one could hear a pin drop. Guo Zhenghua opened his mouth, but in the end, found himself at a loss for words.

When had this boy become so bold? And how did he get in here? Where did he get that uniform? The bizarre circumstances, all connected to his own son, made Guo Zhenghua hold his tongue.

The kid had guts! Xue Jianlin was stunned for a moment, then broke into a smile. Though the boy's behavior was reckless, it was strangely satisfying to hear.

After a long pause, Sun Biao finally responded. His once harsh voice grew low and measured. "Kid, you've got courage."

Guo Lang lazily scratched his head. "Everyone says so."

"If you're so bold, why don't you take your director's place?"

Guo Lang's eyes flashed with a purple gleam. "Alright. Which floor?"

"Wow!" The crowd finally snapped out of their daze, and the scene erupted in chaos. Guo Zhenghua shouted, "Enough nonsense! Get back here immediately!"

Xue Jianlin stepped forward to calm him. "Young man, don't be so impulsive. You're still young. Don't treat your life lightly."

"Yes, yes!" The team leaders around the tent came to soothe him as well, their tone much more respectful than before. For someone with such courage, there was a certain admiration and respect in everyone's hearts.

"Don't worry, Director Guo. It'll be fine," Guo Lang said in a deep tone. His eyes suddenly transformed into the crystalline purple that Xiaoting had seen before, and he unleashed his full aura. Everyone in the tent nearly dropped to their knees, even the veteran officers hardened by years on the front lines felt their legs tremble.

Everyone here had a background in criminal investigation, and instantly realized something was off about this newcomer. He was likely the same kind of person as Sun Biao. Yet, at such close range, none of them had the courage to draw their guns, and cold sweat broke out uncontrollably across their faces.

"You..." Xue Jianlin wanted to reach for his gun, but his hand trembled uncontrollably, no longer under his own command.

Of all present, only Guo Zhenghua's expression remained relatively normal. He didn't even ask about Guo Lang's origins, but spoke in a low voice, "How confident are you?"

"Hmm... I'd say one hundred percent." Guo Lang still scratched his head with that careless attitude, but the aura he exuded lent strong credibility to his claim.

This rascal—so arrogant! Guo Zhenghua was about to curse him with a laugh, but remembering the others around him, he held back, merely taking a deep breath and nodding. "Be careful."

Xue Jianlin paused, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. Others might not have noticed, but he certainly did: Old Guo's first words to the soldier had been to tell him to go back.

Guo Lang didn't reply, but simply flashed an OK sign and strode away from the crowd toward the apartment complex.

"Old Guo..." As Guo Lang walked off, Xue Jianlin looked at Guo Zhenghua, eyes wide with curiosity. "Do you know him?"

"I do," Guo Zhenghua replied, shooting him a glare. "He's from the National Dragon Unit."

"For real?" Xue Jianlin rubbed his hands excitedly. "Don't mess with me, Old Guo! Is there really a Dragon Unit? I always thought it was just fiction!"

"Mess with you?!" Guo Zhenghua laughed, then his face grew serious as he addressed the gossiping crowd. "What are you all doing? Is now the time to daydream? If you have nothing to do, get ready for a forced entry. Prepare the firepower! And Old Xue, contact the military district again. Ask how much longer the reinforcements will take!"

The crowd snapped back to action, bustling with preparations. Xue Jianlin glanced at Guo Zhenghua, grinning obsequiously. "Tell me, Old Guo. Is it only deputy directors and above who get to know about these high-level national units?"

"Me—" Guo Zhenghua kicked him. "Go do your job!"

---

Inside the apartment, Room 1301, Building B, Sun Biao's room was filled with the sound of flesh striking flesh and the heavy breathing of man and woman. Imagine: surrounded by so many outside, and this man was still indulging himself?

"How is it, Aunt? I'm much more enduring than that old man, aren't I? Have you ever felt anything like this?" Sun Biao asked excitedly.

"Animal..." Sun Cailian, pinned beneath Sun Biao, gazed with vacant eyes, her face numb. After nearly three hours of torment, she barely had the strength to curse, only managing a weak, repeated moan. "Animal... animal..."

"Don't be so fake! There's no one else around. Deep down, you're enjoying it, aren't you?"

"Animal!"

Sun Biao stiffened. The voice was wrong—both its quality and direction. It wasn't coming from his aunt! Realizing something was off, Sun Biao felt the hair on his neck stand up. His arousal nearly vanished completely. He was seated in a corner, diagonally facing the door. Who could get so close without him noticing?

Unlike Guo Lang, who drifted through life, Sun Biao and those who had managed to change classes were veterans of countless life-and-death battles. Though startled at first, he quickly regained his composure and focused on pinpointing the source of the voice.

Behind him! Sun Biao's eyes turned beastlike orange-yellow. His right arm flexed, and he suddenly swung his elbow backward. Guo Lang, standing behind him, narrowed his eyes. This brute's strength was impressive—the force of the blow was visible as ripples in the air.

But Guo Lang didn't dodge outright. When it came to combat experience, this kid couldn't hold a candle to Guo Lang's twenty years as a bronze-ranked fighter in his previous life.

Twenty years struggling at bronze rank—how many life-and-death battles had Guo Lang survived? He couldn't even count. He had fought against nearly every race and class of player, as well as all sorts of natives and entities from various planes. His level might not have increased, but his technique was nothing short of masterful.

With a cold laugh, Guo Lang shifted slightly, deflecting the elbow's impact point with his left hand. As the force was diverted, he used the flexibility of his fingertips to subtly guide the trajectory of Sun Biao's strength. Once at the right angle, he suddenly pressed down hard—this was the Ghost Warrior’s winding hand technique, a move Guo Lang had fallen victim to many times in his previous life.

Suddenly, Sun Biao's force was redirected, throwing him off balance. But his experience allowed him to instantly straighten his back, trying to stabilize with his stance and waist strength. Seeing this, Guo Lang jabbed sharply at Sun Biao's waist acupoint, the force concentrated to a needle’s tip.

Any expert watching would recognize this as the Human Monk’s acupoint-striking technique.

With that, the power Sun Biao had gathered at his waist dissipated, and he lost his footing completely. Then, a sharp pain shot through his right hand. Because of his imbalance, Guo Lang had guided the force of his elbow strike, and with a pull and a push, Sun Biao's right hand was dislocated.

"Damn it!" Sun Biao was infuriated, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging. As he was about to hit the floor, he stomped hard with his left foot and, channeling the force through his body, flipped two meters into the air. His body straightened as he soared, controlling his strength so as not to break through the floor—he knew the apartment was only 2.8 meters high. In mid-air, he finally caught sight of his attacker.

A man dressed in special forces gear, with a hood concealing his face—but he saw those purple eyes.

So, another player! He somersaulted, preparing to strike down with a flying knee.

Guo Lang grinned, refrained from pursuing or countering, and instead scooped up the released Sun Cailian, darting out of Sun Biao’s attack range with her.

So quick! Sun Biao’s pupils contracted. “An agility type!” he thought. He managed to control his descent, causing only a slight tremor in the room—otherwise, with the initial force, he would have punched through the floor.

In the distance, Guo Lang carried Sun Cailian to the door, took off his police uniform, and draped it over her. Looking at her numb face, he spoke gently, “Don’t give up on yourself. Your beloved is outside, anxiously awaiting news. Your son is kneeling before the police, begging them to save you. Your family hasn’t given up on you, and neither should you.”

Guo Lang’s words rekindled a spark in Sun Cailian’s dead eyes. He propped her up in a comfortable semi-reclined position, then rose and returned to the room, shutting the security door behind him.

“Interesting,” Sun Biao said, popping his shoulder back into place with a crack and flexing his muscles. Smiling, he added, “It’s hard to imagine someone with your strength would still choose to be a dog for the Federation.”