Grand Chancellor Cao Hong

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2016, late at night, Australia. Under the gentle sea breeze and the radiant moon, the picturesque Descending Islands were exceptionally tranquil and harmonious.

On a small island among the archipelago, one villa after another had already been swallowed by darkness, yet their exquisite outlines still revealed the ingenuity wrought from lavish expense.

At the island’s edge, the waves softly caressed the shore, palm trees swayed in the sea wind—everything seemed in perfect accord. A single wave, as if loath to disturb the serene beauty of the night, dispersed before it could reach the sand, silently absorbed by the tide that followed.

At that moment, a shadow emerged soundlessly from the sea. Riding the crest of the next wave, it glided ashore like a lone vessel braving the wind and surf. The shadow belonged to a figure clad in a wetsuit. Now standing upright, his flawless physique was revealed.

He wore no oxygen tank, only a pair of diving goggles. No one could fathom how he had reached this island, more than 180 kilometers from the mainland. Removing his goggles, he revealed a youthful, handsome face. He spoke into a tiny pinhole at the rim of the goggles: “The Scythe of Death has landed. Commencing phase two of the operation. Have the intermediary urge the client for the second security deposit.”

After speaking, the young man brought the pinhole to his ear and heard the reply: “Thirty million in security deposit has been received. Proceed with the contract.”

He nodded, donned his goggles once more, and strode toward t