60 Catch A Turtle in A Jar

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At the end of the corridor, a cramped storage room, barely five square meters, stood like a forgotten shrine of neglected artifacts. The room was cluttered with forsaken items: dilapidated cardboard boxes filled with yellowed letters and magazines, heaps of dusty winter clothing, and other miscellaneous objects worn by time. The air was thick with a musty odor, the scent of time and despair.

Security guards scoured each floor, their footsteps echoing through the building like the drumbeats of a silent war. As their focus shifted to the exterior, their movements resonated less frequently within the walls, becoming a distant murmur of pursuit.

The footsteps outside grew nearer. They paused at the door, the handle rattling violently, but the rusted lock dissuaded further effort. The footsteps and murmurs retreated, and the room's stillness returned, transforming the tiny space into an isolated island cut off from the world outside.

The deadly game of hide-and-seek was nearing its climax. Security, under the deputy manager's meticulous direction, positioned themselves like cats cornering a desperate mouse. Their eyes gleamed with cunning and malice, as if savoring the prey's impending despair. Should they capture Mo Wen, the torments they'd unleash were beyond imagination.

Throughout the building, other guards, equipped with tasers, batons, and a few even with guns, took their positions. The scent of victory was palpable; bonuses and commendations felt within their grasp.

Outside the small door, two guards awaited silently, gripping a snare net designed for trapping animals. Anticipation and tension made them tremble slightly, envisioning the prey's struggle.

As Hoxton prepared for a forceful entry, a startled cry burst through his earpiece. The deputy manager, breaking into a cold sweat, demanded an explanation.

"Manager, there's someone peeking over the back wall! It looks like someone's here to help the thief!" The voice quivered with fear.

"Did you see them clearly?"

"No, they just peeked and then disappeared. We're only two here. Requesting backup! Requesting backup!"

"Damn it, sound the alarm and call for backup!" The deputy manager ordered. But suddenly, a flash of insight struck him. He quickly restrained the guard about to relay the command.

He instructed the reporting guard,"Hold your ground with your partner. Stay in position. I'll send someone armed over there. Just scare them off! We'll be there soon!"

Rubbing his chin, a sly smile crept across his lips,'A feint, to lure us away and let his accomplices escape! But you're up against me!'

He called a director at the security company, detailing the situation and emphasizing it was a coordinated operation, requesting private support.

"The more people, the less credit. The manager's position should be mine this time! The manager should've retired already!" He grumbled inwardly, his joy outweighing his frustration.

With a single command, the door burst open. The long-unventilated room erupted in a cloud of dust, chaotic footsteps stirring up choking plumes, prompting a fit of coughing. His subordinates immediately flicked the power switch, but the room remained engulfed in darkness. Beams of flashlight pierced the blackness, crisscrossing like sentinels to block every possible escape route.

A lackey nearby flattered,"Manager, just as you predicted. The bulbs are broken. Ten minutes ago, I wondered why you wanted strong flashlights. It's as if you anticipated everything!"

The deputy manager nodded with satisfaction."Search thoroughly. Under every coat. Let's see where you run now."

While searching, the deputy manager mused,"What on earth is that damned thief after? We'll need harsh interrogation to uncover it."

Piles of clothes were overturned, not even the gaps between the clothes and the walls were spared.

"Come out on your own, or you'll regret it!" The guards, impatient, began issuing threats.

Suddenly, a panicked voice crackled through the deputy manager's earpiece,"Manager, someone's charging at us! Ah, no, our men are down!"

The deputy manager cursed,"Useless fools, hold your ground. Don't move an inch!"

His anxiety grew as the search through piles of clothes and debris proved time-consuming.

"Manager, that guy's too strong. We can't hold him off!" Another urgent report came through. Moments later, two gunshots shattered the night.

"Damn it, send two more over, quickly!"

The deputy manager swore under his breath,"Everyone, out of the room! Lock the door. Don't let him escape!"

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Yan Chiya advanced towards his target, anxiety gnawing at him: the commotion was far greater than he had anticipated. As he reached the gate, he spotted a surge of black-clad guards, fully armed with semi-automatic rifles, pouring in through the courtyard gate, ready for a decisive showdown.

"Damn!" A pang of dread gripped Yan Chiya's heart. He turned sharply, scaling the wall to flee. The frigid wind bit into him, the spikes atop the wall glinting menacingly under the moonlight."Bang!" A shot rang out, the bullet grazing him, the heat searing close. His heart pounded like a war drum, his breath coming in rapid gasps.

Around the street corner, a silent black armored vehicle slid into view, a ghostly presence threatening in its silence."They mean business!" Yan Chiya ducked into an alley, the darkness swallowing him whole. Clutching his climbing rope, his heart raced,"Good thing I acted fast, or I'd be trapped inside. Poor kid, this ruckus leaves me powerless! If he gets caught, my mission is doomed!"

Yan Chiya melted into the shadows, the armed guards swiftly closing in, the alley echoing with the urgency of their pursuit.