CHAPTER 138: CHAPTER 138: THE BAIT IN THE STORM

The sky over East Marrow had turned the color of bruised steel, heavy with the promise of another storm. The upper atmosphere’s magnetic interference was spiking, throwing off long-range scans and drone navigation. For Apex Holdings, this was an inconvenience. For Lin Feng, it was an opportunity.

He stood in the southern command balcony, hands resting on the cold railing, watching streaks of lightning flash through the distant skyline. Below, the city churned with muted chaos—markets closing early, freight convoys rerouting, patrols doubling their watch. Nature had done what no corporate decree could: slow the city to a crawl.

Perfect cover for what came next.

Keller’s theft of the encryption core was both a loss and a gain. The files were genuine, but laced with false threads—carefully designed to lead him toward one location: Black Spire, a remote data relay station on the city’s perimeter. On paper, it was just an aging relay hub, long overdue for decommission. In truth, Apex had converted it into a multi-layer security maze years ago.

Ren Yan joined Lin at the balcony. "Storm intensity’s peaking in six hours. That’s when he’ll move. No drones in the air, no long-range overwatch. He’ll think it’s the perfect window."

"It is," Lin said quietly. "Just not for him."

The Black Spire stood like a jagged fang against the horizon, its obsidian frame cutting into the roiling clouds above. Inside, Jiang Mei oversaw final preparations, her tone clipped as she barked orders into the comms.

"All exterior doors sealed except west entry. Internal turrets on standby—don’t engage until I say. Traps at grid sections B2 and C7 are active, but keep corridor G3 clear. That’s his funnel."

Zhao Yinuo leaned against a console, watching the real-time map. "If Keller’s half as sharp as you say, he’ll smell the bait the second he steps inside."

"He will," Jiang Mei admitted, "but curiosity is his flaw. He won’t turn back until he’s seen what’s inside."

Lin arrived on-site an hour before the storm hit full force. The Black Spire’s interior was eerily silent—thick walls absorbing sound until even footsteps felt muffled. He walked the length of corridor G3, fingers brushing against the cold, smooth steel. Every angle was calculated. Every inch of this place was designed for control.

By the time the first thunderclap shook the walls, Lin was in the observation room, the storm’s interference already chewing through half the external feeds.

"Grid sensors will be intermittent at best," Ren Yan warned over comms. "We’ll have eyes only when he’s in range of the internal array."

"That’s enough," Lin replied.

The breach came just after midnight.

Not an explosion. Not a forced entry. A simple door code override, executed flawlessly.

Lin leaned forward, watching Keller appear on the thermal feed—a lone figure, cloak drawn close against the damp air, moving with the same unhurried precision as before.

He bypassed the first set of traps without slowing. Triggered a decoy alarm in corridor B2 just to see who would respond. Then, as if following a script, he drifted toward corridor G3.

"Don’t close it yet," Lin instructed.

Keller paused halfway down the hall, glancing at the security camera—directly into the lens, as if he knew Lin was watching. Then he smirked.

The moment he stepped into the central chamber, the door behind him slammed shut. A faint hiss followed as the air pressure shifted.

Keller scanned the room. The core console stood in the center, glowing faintly through a transparent casing.

"This is too clean," he muttered under his breath.

Lin’s voice echoed from hidden speakers. "Because I want you to see it."

Keller chuckled. "You’re getting sentimental."

"No," Lin said. "Just efficient."

The walls lit up, revealing concealed weapon pods and locking servos. Keller stepped back, but the floor beneath him shifted, rising slightly—just enough to throw off his balance.

He didn’t fall. Instead, he produced a compact EMP device, slamming it against the floor. Sparks danced across the walls as the lights flickered.

Half the weapon pods went dark.

"Predictable," Keller said, slipping toward the eastern panel.

But Lin had expected the EMP. The eastern panel opened not to an escape corridor, but to another sealed chamber—this one flooding with thick, opaque gas.

Keller froze for half a second, then pivoted, heading for the console instead.

Lin stepped into the chamber in person now, the inner doors unlocking with a hiss. The gas dissipated quickly, revealing Keller standing by the console, his hand hovering over the access port.

"You knew I’d come here," Keller said.

"I needed you to," Lin replied.

"And now what? You keep me in this box until the storm clears? You know I’ll find a way out."

Lin’s eyes were steady. "That’s the difference between us. You’re always looking for a way out. I’m looking for a way through."

Keller’s smile was faint but sharp. "Then let’s see if you’ve found it."

What happened next was not a fight in the traditional sense. No wild strikes, no wasted movement—just two men moving like opposing currents, each anticipating the other’s rhythm.

Lin used the confined space to control Keller’s angles, forcing him into the arcs of the still-active weapon pods. Keller countered with fluid redirections, using Lin’s momentum to pivot around him.

But Lin wasn’t aiming to win with brute force. Every step, every shift of his position, drove Keller closer to the western wall—the one fitted with the only exit still unlocked.

Keller didn’t realize until he stepped through it... and found himself back in the very first corridor he’d entered.

The doors sealed behind him.

By dawn, the storm had passed. Keller was gone—not captured, but driven out empty-handed.

Jiang Mei was furious. "You had him in the chamber. You could’ve ended it."

Lin shook his head. "Not yet. He still thinks he’s hunting me. That’s the only reason I’ll be able to hunt him."

Far to the west, Keller moved through the dripping streets, a new expression on his face—not amusement, but something rarer.

Respect.

Because now, the game had changed. And both men knew it was only just beginning.