In a modest room on the second floor of an old house, an overhead light illuminated the hole torn through the ceiling. The walls were a mixture of mud and brick, and the floor was wooden planking.

A young girl in a school uniform lay unconscious on the floor, passed out from fright, with her schoolbag beside her.

Liu Shiheng stepped over and untied the ropes binding her hands and feet.

In truth, leaving her tied up would have made it easier to carry her out, but it wasn’t exactly a good look, so he undid them regardless. Then, picking up her red schoolbag, he slung it over his right shoulder.

He Tangtang kneeled on one leg to inspect the space under the bed. There was blood beside his knee.

Han Qingyu stood there with his device activated, listening for footsteps—both near and far, on the roof and the street. There were at least a dozen people; that much was certain.

Activating his communicator, he made a call back to base. “Team compromised. Requesting backup and scene cleanup.”

He then relayed a message to the van. “We might have to fight our way out.”

It no longer mattered whether this was a trap or an accident. The only...