star hunter

Mengchuan Evening News is located at No. 181, Xincheng Avenue, Dongcheng District. It is the only remaining communication agency for citizens in this city.

They stubbornly refused to change their name. Except for a certain period of extremely bad conditions, the editors and editors of the newspaper insisted on one issue per day, conscientiously reporting information about the "isolated island", large and small, without delay.

They tried their best to make this disaster-ridden city look normal, like every other city in the world.

The same is true today.

As the sun set, the afterglow faded away, and twilight began to envelope this remote and quiet boulevard, and the three-storey off-white building at the end also lit up with fluorescent lights.

The editor-in-chief of the newspaper with half hair on his sideburns is wearing presbyopic glasses to make the final review of the manuscript. If there are no problems, the typeset manuscript will be sent to printing soon.

He is getting old, and he has other problems besides deteriorating eyesight. His hand holding the manuscript is shaking uncontrollably. In addition, the wiring is old, the voltage is unstable, and the incandescent lamp on the ceiling is flickering. The light flashes and flickers, making it more difficult for him to read.

The boss put down the manuscript helplessly and let out a deep sigh.

He reached out to pick up his enamel cup, and was about to take a sip of strong tea to refresh himself, when the door of the room that was hidden was suddenly knocked open.

It was probably because he was old, and after being frightened, his body’s reaction was faster than his brain’s. His unsteady right hand trembled again. It splashed all over, and a lot of his trouser legs were stained.

Fortunately, the tea was warm and not hot, but the editor-in-chief was very reluctant to part with the enamel cup that had been with him for decades. He glanced at the debris on the floor with distress, and then turned his head angrily: "Which bastard? Such a reckless person who doesn't know etiquette..."

His displeased question got stuck in his throat before it was over. He was shocked by the scene in front of him, held his breath, and tremblingly held down his reading glasses, only then did he make sure that he was not mistaken.

The person who knocked open the door of his office was lying on the ground. There was a horrible hole in the side of his neck, and blood was gushing out like free tap water.

He wasn't dead yet, and his body twitched from time to time.

The old editor-in-chief opened his mouth wide and stood up with difficulty while leaning on the back of the chair.

He is very familiar with this person. He is an editor in the agency, and he can be regarded as one of his right-hand assistants.

"Xiao Wang..." He burst into tears for a moment, staggered a few steps forward, bent down, and stretched out his hand to cover the bleeding hole of his subordinate, "Who is so cruel..."

He hadn't finished speaking when a shadow suddenly shrouded his eyes. He raised his head subconsciously, and two tall figures blocked the door.

They were all dressed in black and black trousers, with black masks covering their faces tightly, with only their eyes and mouth exposed.

Of course, what frightened the editor-in-chief most was the black muzzle of their guns.

"You, who are you...?" At this time, the subordinate died completely, and the old man was overcome with grief, and his fear receded a bit. He hugged the corpse and questioned the other party in grief and indignation.

It's a pity that the other party didn't pay attention to him, and the guy with the gun said coldly: "You'd better not move around, bullets don't have eyes."

The old editor's lips trembled, but the other man in black waved his hand: "Be careful with your attitude, after all, we have something to ask for from others."

His words made the old man stunned, the man in black smiled, and the other man lowered the muzzle of the gun a little, presumably, he was in a leading position.

The emaciated leader walked into the editor-in-chief's office slowly, and looked at the decoration of the office quite leisurely, and even made a few comments.

"The potted plant is well maintained. This is the lamp. It must be replaced, right?" The man in black looked away from the green potted plant on the corner of the table, looked up at the flickering light tube, and shook his head, " The brightness is too low and the style is very old.”

The old editor-in-chief became more and more panicked: "What on earth do you want..."

"Great!" The other party didn't intend to answer his question at all, and sat down on his office chair, picked up the manuscript he hadn't finished reviewing before, shaking, "Fortunately, I caught up with it."

The old man's throat tightened, and he suddenly had a bad feeling.

"Who are you guys?!"

The man in black laughed softly: "You will know soon...the whole 'island' will know."

>>>

It was night, with the rumbling sound of wheels rolling over the rails, several beams of light pierced the sky, and the train whizzed past.

From a distance, the carriages seem to be nimble reptiles, winding out from the mountains quickly; but when you get closer, you will find that they seem to be hobbled old people, and the rails are overwhelmed.

It was a freight train, heavily laden with supplies for the season.

It can basically be said to be the life-saving grass of the "isolated island".

The mountains are retreating quickly like silhouettes, and the train is carefully moving forward along the track, less than 10 kilometers away from the city. If there is no accident, it will reach the destination within [-] minutes.

There was another undulating hill in front of it, and the track circled the foot of the hill, forming a huge arc. The front of the car deflected first, and the carriage behind it immediately followed, like a hunched centipede.

Just as the train was concentrating on crossing the curved track, an accident happened—a section of the rail not far from the front of the train was exploded without warning, the flames shot into the sky, the rail was broken and flew high, revealing The sleepers below, and even the road ballast.

The train driver was terrified and hurriedly applied emergency brakes, the vehicle body vibrated violently, the brake shoes hugged the wheel tread tightly, and the friction between iron and iron brought out a series of dazzling sparks.

Although the driver tried his best, the damaged rails were too close for the train to stop. Under the double fatal blow of the curve and no way to go, the freight train finally derailed.

The huge thing fell down with a bang, and the full supplies inside also overturned.

>>>

Zhong Yuncong and Bingyi spent almost one night on the chairs in the hospital corridor, and the civil servant from the Integrated Management Bureau hadn't come out of the intensive care unit yet.

Both of them fell asleep waiting, Zhong Yuncong yawned, shook his head, and tried to make himself more awake, but unfortunately failed.

"Is it already dawn?" The female security officer was also exhausted, she stretched her waist in an inelegant way, "Damn it, why isn't the IA boy awake yet?"

Zhong Yuncong glanced at the closed door of the ward, and smoothed things over with an apologetic smile: "Probably the injury is really serious... Sister Bingyi, are you hungry? I'll help you buy breakfast?"

"Haha, you're quite sensible!" Bingyi immediately forgot about the unpleasantness, and patted his shoulder with a smile on his face, "Then I'll leave it to you, soya-bean milk and deep-fried dough sticks are fine~"

"Okay." Zhong Yun rubbed his eyes and walked out top-heavy. After he walked outside, the cool morning wind and the moisture of the morning dew rushed towards his face, finally waking up his drowsy brain.

Although it was still early, the breakfast stalls near the hospital were still overcrowded, and it took him ten minutes to buy breakfast for two.

When returning the same way, he was bumped by a reckless guy. A cup of soybean milk was spilled all over his hand. The soybean milk was still hot, and the back of his left hand was immediately red and swollen.

Zhong Yuncong took a deep breath, but the other party didn't seem to take the initiative to apologize. He had a good temper and didn't want to make trouble for the other party. He just said calmly: "Sir, you bumped into me just now. , I believe you didn't do it on purpose, so I don't care about you, you just need to say..."

Before he could persuade you with good words, the guy shook the newspaper in his hand, and walked away impatiently: "I want to bully others in this suit! I have business to do now and I don't have time to talk to you!"

After speaking, he hurriedly left, looking excited.

If it wasn't for holding half a cup of soy milk in his left hand and a few deep-fried sticks in his right hand, Zhong Yuncong would have rushed to teach him a lesson if he was so powerlessly offended.

"This uniform is shy of others to wear it. Why does it have the opposite effect when I wear it?" Zhong Yuncong was extremely depressed, thinking that he might still not have enough aura.

Back outside the intensive care unit, Zhong Yuncong found that Bing Yi had stood up and was pacing back and forth in the corridor. He thought he was keeping the other party waiting too long, so he trotted over in a hurry, not forgetting to explain: "I'm sorry, Breakfast was a bit crowded…”

"I don't have time to eat." Unexpectedly, Bing Yi, who was reincarnated as a starving ghost before, shook his hand at him, "Something happened again, the boss told us to go there immediately!"

Zhong Yuncong put the things on the chair in a daze, and then asked, "Where are you going?"

"Outskirts."

"What happened in the suburbs?"

Bing Yi didn't answer him directly, but walked over and stopped two nurses who were chatting and passing by: "Excuse me, can I borrow a newspaper?"

Probably because she was wearing the uniform of the Bureau of Administration, the nurse was a little surprised, but obediently handed over the newspaper and said that there was no need to return it.

Bingyi handed the newspaper to Zhong Yuncong: "You can read it yourself."

Zhong Yun walked and watched.

The front page of the newspaper was very familiar, it was the "Mengchuan Evening News" he had seen at Zhang Jibai's place.

Surprisingly, however, the typography of this guarantee is strange.

No, it should be said that there is no typography at all.

On the huge piece of paper, there are only a few lines of words, the most eye-catching is a title in bold and black.

"We will no longer be shadows, we will walk out of the darkness and lead you to see the light again."

Bingyi raised his eyebrows: "Can you see what this is?"

Zhong Yuncong let out a breath slowly: "Declaration...or provocation."

"That's right." The female sheriff looked serious, "'Shadow', they played a big game this time."

"They hijacked the newspaper, choked the throat of the news, and wanted to publicize a big event-they blew up a section of the railway, derailing and overturning the train carrying the supplies just received by the IMA."

Zhong Yuncong frowned: "Are they going to rob?"

"It's not that simple...their appetite is much bigger." Bingyi shook his head, his eyes dimmed, "They are winning people's hearts."

Zhong Yuncong continued to look down—"Dear citizens, when you read this newspaper, set out to go [-] kilometers outside the city, beside the railway tracks, there are gifts we prepared for you. At least for the next Within three months, we guarantee that you will have no worries about food and clothing. — Sincerely, 'Shadow'."