The Bomber has left the team; we must rescue him immediately!

"Demolitionist" White Fox—this is a notorious name in the world of assassins.

If any reporter dared venture into the assassin community for an interview, most responses would likely be:

"That lunatic White Fox always makes such a scene when she kills, you'd think she was a terrorist."

"She's ruined our reputation as assassins! Because of her, people mistake us mercenaries for ruthless murderers!"

"That bastard actually blew up my target last time, I swear I'll kill her!"

In Nighthub City, assassins not only operate legally, but are governed by strict regulations—such as minimizing collateral damage and never poaching another assassin's target.

Yet White Fox's arrival shattered these rules. She disregarded all codes, relying entirely on brute force to eliminate her targets. Coupled with her volatile temperament that made her prone to detonating things whenever irritated, she often blew something up halfway through a mission.

Were it not for her exceptionally high success rate and her own dangerously potent abilities, the assassin network would have long since placed her on their most-wanted list.

More than half of the city's mercenary assassins harbor a deep hatred for White Fox, wishing she would die soon. But White Fox always operated alone, with no family or fixed address, making her impossible to track for those seeking revenge.

This time, however, things were different. Many assassins and mercenaries were avid fans of the Grand Arena Tournament and instantly recognized their hated rival on the field.

White hair, fox ears, her signature black leather jacket, and explosive arms—even if they'd never seen her in person, these features made her unmistakable.

Of course, mere "professional grudges" weren't enough to provoke these assassins into attacking such a powerful mutant. What truly motivated them was a lucrative assassination contract issued by an anonymous tycoon.

With the patronage of this unnamed magnate, over a dozen top-ranked mercenary assassins mobilized, armed with the latest weapons provided by their benefactor, and launched an assault against White Fox in the city's underground district.

...

"Huff... huff... it hurts... How did they find me?"

In the dim sewer, White Fox clutched her abdomen, fleeing for her life. Sharp explosions crackled inside her body.

Moments ago, a group of formidable strangers had stormed the abandoned factory where she was temporarily staying, launching a fierce attack without a word.

Though White Fox was immortal, sustained assaults triggered a chain reaction of explosions within her body, causing agony beyond human comprehension.

As the game progressed, White Fox became the city's most-wanted demolitionist murderer, because the pain eventually broke her, leaving her mind in ruins.

"She's ahead! Get her!" A masked man in a black coat shouted, pointing forward.

From the shadows, a ninja in night gear suddenly lunged, slashing at White Fox.

Unable to dodge, she felt the blade strike her waist. Though it didn't pierce her tight leather suit, it left a deep groove in her skin.

The wounded flesh began to writhe uncontrollably, and another series of muffled pops echoed from within her.

"Ahhh! It hurts!" White Fox collapsed, rolling clumsily to evade the ninja's follow-up attack.

Struggling upright, she tore off one of her fingers and flung it at the ninja.

The bloody knuckle arced through the air, landing before her attacker.

But the ninja wasn't about to repeat the mistakes of the Doomsday Prizefighter. With a flicker, he dodged the finger, moving like a phantom.

The finger landed and exploded like a firecracker, leaving a charred crater.

White Fox's explosive ability wasn't suited for direct combat; her flying limbs were slow, easy to evade.

Immediately, several assassins emerged from the shadows, surrounding her in a four-way pincer that cut off her escape.

"Can't you leave me alone?" came a frustrated snarl from beneath her mask.

Forced into close quarters, White Fox drew a dagger and fought through several rounds, sparks flying in the darkness.

Though she was no slouch in melee, her opponents wielded upgraded, high-quality weapons. Outmatched, White Fox steadily lost ground, her dagger's blade severed in the struggle.

More and more assassins closed in—a prolonged fight meant certain death. White Fox decisively detached her entire arm and hurled it at the ceiling.

Boom—

Her arm unleashed a blast rivaling heavy TNT, blowing a massive hole in the sewer's ceiling.

The tremors sent rebar and concrete raining down.

The mercenaries quickly took out palm-sized disc devices and aimed them forward.

Instantly, a blue energy wave burst from the devices, forming semicircular quantum shields that enveloped them.

The latest energy shields from the Xu Group absorbed the shockwave and falling debris, leaving the assassins untouched by White Fox's explosion.

"What... what are these things?" White Fox cursed angrily. Their gear seemed custom-made to counter her abilities, leaving her helpless.

When the blast faded, the mercenaries dropped their shields. One, dressed in diving gear, pulled out a harpoon gun and fired at White Fox.

Thud—

The harpoon, forged from special metal, pierced her blast-resistant suit and impaled her abdomen.

Worse, the harpoon carried an electric device; a nearly lethal surge coursed through her, overwhelming her senses.

"Ahhh... it hurts!" Blood tainted with gunpowder spilled from her wound, her cries taking on a pitiful, dying whimper.

Seizing the moment, the other assassins surrounded her.

"They say she's immortal—catch her and we pocket half a million!" sneered a burly assassin brandishing a chainsaw, yanking the cord with relish.

"The employer's a real big spender, fifty grand each!" A mutant assassin with six arms, each wielding a submachine gun, licked his lips greedily. "Time to splurge in the Succubus District—happy!"

"White Fox, we've had it with you." An assassin in a black coat and suit, masked and wielding a drive baton, waved as he prepared to call their patron. "Blame yourself for being too flashy. Now you're finally facing justice!"

White Fox gasped for breath, summoning the last of her strength to pull out her phone.

She was cornered, unable to fight back. These were the city's top assassins; they knew her weaknesses and carried gear specifically designed to neutralize her.

Even if White Fox self-destructed to take them with her, she couldn't kill them all at once. In her weakened state, the survivors would simply finish her off.

But even with the phone in hand, who could she call?

She had no friends—even her former employers had mostly blocked her.

—Tch, only him?

For some reason, the first person who came to mind was the young man who'd invited her to the Grand Arena Tournament.

Their relationship was purely transactional, perhaps even less than that... but he was the only one she could turn to.

Clinging to a feeling that might barely qualify as "hope," White Fox dialed his number.

"I'm about to get killed! Come save me!" As usual, her tone showed not an ounce of courtesy. In truth, she never spoke politely to anyone.

Noticing she was trying to call for backup, the mercenaries all drew their firearms and sprayed the ground where White Fox lay.

Bang—

Her battered phone was shattered by a bullet.

Immediately, countless dents appeared on her body; though ordinary bullets couldn't penetrate her suit, her flesh ruptured and detonated faster.

Coughing violently, White Fox spat blood that seeped through the gaps in her gas mask.

Then, her blood began to explode, blowing the mask to pieces.

Fragments hit the floor, revealing a face that left everyone speechless.

"What a pity—such a beautiful face ruined like this," sighed an assassin, fingers still squeezing the trigger.

White Fox's features were delicate; long white lashes shaded blue eyes, her cheeks pale as fresh snow—a sickly, fragile beauty.

Yet her face was marred with burns, shocking to behold.

These scars healed and reopened, over and over, diminishing her beauty.

But that "diminished" beauty only dropped her rating from a nine to a five. Though the scars made her less attractive, she was still recognizably female. Compared to the city's grotesque mutants, she was almost pretty—she'd still be popular in the red-light district.

But the mercenaries had no time for regrets.

White Fox was their target; their job was to suppress her cellular regeneration with bullets and await their employer's arrival.

With half a million within reach and a hated rival eliminated, their spirits soared.

Yet none noticed the shadow behind them—a swordsman with an iron blade, watching with cold, still eyes.

"Leave no survivors," came the command from a young man's voice in his earpiece.