The air shoved aside steam, forming a conical shockwave that burst forth—like a mighty blast of qi shooting toward the sky, only to vanish in an instant under the influence of internal energy. Her spine arched like a bow, legs coiled with tension, feet stepping into thin air as if mounting a dragon, each step thundering like cannon fire. Faster and faster, higher and higher, Jill Young soared like a missile toward the heavens, her black silhouette stamping out hazy clouds in the night. The deep rumble of her flight sounded like rolling thunder.
Altitude—629 meters!
She spread her arms wide—the Eternal Night Wing Suit, newly developed, kicked in. Technology meets martial arts: Jill Young twisted and flipped midair like the nimblest bird, gliding smoothly forward. With the 99 Years Supreme Skill running, friction kept dropping, airflow sliced past her perfect curves, and wind resistance plummeted. Even at breakneck speed, she didn’t whip up any piercing racket—behind those jet-black shades was a wild, grinning face.
Speed—1.28 Mach!
435 meters per second!
The Dubai coastline? Gone in a flash.
Palm tree villa complex? Gone in a flash.
The Eight-Star, Eight-Sail Yacht Hotel? Gone in a flash.
Navigation lights twinkling in the sky—a sightseeing plane still cruising? Also gone in a flash.
The street? Gone in a flash.
Mansion? Gone in a flash.
All the skyscrapers, far below, looked tiny as toys—every last one, gone in a flash.
Strong people love heights. It’s in their nature.
Thinking back—the last time I looked down on a bustling city from this high up, it was in Steelbull City, during the Iron Balls Saga. Back then, I was full of ambition, waiting for adventure, waiting to conquer. Now? I don’t need a parachute anymore. I don’t need to conquer on purpose, either.
This city before me—life and death, power and mercy, all in my hands!
This breakneck flight—pure bliss.
Mind clear, spirit soaring, fate unchained—my momentum pierces the sky!
I lifted my head, eyes locking on the only building taller than this—the Burj Khalifa, piercing the heavens. My pupils contracted, gaze leaping across more than ten kilometers, landing spot-on at the 124th floor. Every detail was crystal clear. Let Jonathan charge in and play hero—that’s just training for him. Me? I don’t need targeting help. With these eyes, no target escapes!
As for those ten-plus kilometers in between? I’ll be there in a blink.
"Go! We have to go! Move, move!" Santiago was sprinting, gasping for breath. He didn’t care about anything else—his survival instinct kicked in, pushing him to his fastest speed ever. Thirty meters in six seconds—a seventy-something old man running like he was at his peak. He burst into the meeting hall, shoving aside anyone in his way, and grabbed Sneak Four’s hand.
He didn’t care about the big shots or the suddenly-alert bodyguards, and he definitely didn’t bother telling Captain One about that weird local tycoon business. Santiago snapped, “Move! Get me out—now!”
“What’s wrong, boss?” Captain One rushed over. “What happened?”
“Cut the crap and get me out—now, right now!” Santiago roared.
Sneak Four shrugged at Captain One—this old man was officially scared out of his wits. With all these people here, who could possibly fly in and snatch him away?
Just as Sneak Four shrugged, Scout Three—eyes closed—suddenly snapped his eyes open, mouth agape in shock, ready to shout a warning. His external intercostals contracted, inhale, internal intercostals tensed, air rushed up, sound not yet made, vocal cords still silent—when the observation deck glass exploded.
Like a black arrow piercing the Burj Khalifa, the massive glass wall of the observation deck shattered. Stretch that split-second into slow motion—countless shards spinning and tumbling in midair, reflecting Dubai’s neon dreamscape. In this freeze-frame world, Santiago’s face hadn’t even turned toward the glass, and a pale, terrifying hand had already grabbed his collar.
A burst of mysterious power from the East shielded him, stopping him from turning into a splatter of meat under the brutal acceleration.
And then—Santiago was yanked away, flying out the other side of the Burj Khalifa, dragged into the distant night sky.
He didn’t even have time to scream—he was gone from Sneak Four’s side. From Shadow Zero to Sneak Four, five bodyguards, kings, sheikhs, big shots of every stripe, white and black, all snapped into extreme, belated alert, staring at the glass wall, then scanning the room—only to realize that, in a blink, the cowardly old man had vanished.
"Careful!!" Scout Three finally managed to shout, his face a picture of delayed horror.
On a strong person’s timeline, the weak just can’t keep up—their reflexes are way too slow. That’s the gulf, the gap, the difference in power. Even lesser Chosen Ones are like this, never mind regular folks. Jill Young, clutching Santiago’s collar, shot through the Burj Khalifa like an arrow, spun once in midair, and launched them both skyward.
At the very top platform of the Burj Khalifa, a crowd was already in position. They looked like a ragtag bunch, but their eyes were cold and murderous—yup, the same people who’d scared Santiago silly. No connection to Jill Young, of course. They quickly cleared the platform. The Chosen Ones kept pulling out rough-looking parts from their dimensional pockets, while the regular folks scrambled to assemble them—clearly prepping for something special.
Just then—whoosh! A shadow shot up from below, rocketing past like a cannonball, straight into the sky.
"What the heck was that?!"
The crowd freaked out, craning their necks, but regular people couldn’t keep up. Only the Chosen One leader’s pupils shrank, face going ghostly pale. Under the full moon’s glow, he saw a figure rocket up over a thousand meters—looked like someone was grabbing another person… Wait, that guy just got thrown!
(This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Click next page for more!)
Whoosh—wind roared past, whipping the old man’s saggy face into a wild twist. His eyelids flapped like flags, and amid the spinning chaos, Santiago realized he was nothing but a lightweight sandbag—flung sky-high!
The whole world spun at breakneck speed, and the weightless feeling squeezed his heart. Santiago had done some wild stuff in his youth, even tried skydiving, knew how to balance in midair—but now was NOT the time for thrills!
His body traced a giant arc, climbing higher and higher. The freezing wind couldn’t cool his racing heart. At the peak—just a split second’s pause—then it was falling, falling, falling, accelerating without end. Mouth wide open, wind pouring in—forget screaming, he couldn’t even breathe. Eyes bulging, veins popping, heart ready to explode.
Done for, done for—I'm totally done for! Ahhh!!!
Whoosh—not a sharp whistle, but a black shadow zipped through the sky like a snake, tracing a dragon’s-tail arc across the air. Like an apex predator, a true sky king, reveling in the power gifted by the heavens. All the old man could see were two blazing red eyes—full of excitement, and a terror even worse than falling to his death.
The shadow flashed by, that same hand grabbing the old man’s ankle—like a demon in the night, hoisting him upside-down like a chicken. The two figures shot off, vanishing from sight in seconds. Only the old man’s scream lingered, rippling through the air.
"Boss, what was that..." The rooftop crew turned pale as ghosts—their iron will shattered by what they’d just seen. Even though it just flashed by, even without close contact, it nearly scared these hardened fighters witless.
"Ignore it." The Chosen One leader’s face went from ghostly white to pitch black, but feeling the wild, terrifying will in the sky, he instantly got the picture: "It’s got nothing to do with us—otherwise, we’d already be dead. Move! Finish our mission before this mess causes more trouble."
On the rooftop of another skyscraper, in the dead silence, a pair of eyes suddenly opened out of nowhere, like two terrifying rips in the air.
No whites or pupils, just a dim orange glow—eyes that could see everything, god’s eyes, demon’s eyes, all-seeing and wise. Instantly, they locked onto the figure high in the sky. That cloud-piercing flight, that hit-and-run escape—it made the eyes burn with anger and frustration. All that careful prep? Wasted.
The eyes glanced up at the sky—clear night, bright moon, gentle breeze. The weather was perfect. The eyes seemed almost regretful.
A hint of wariness.
A touch of unwillingness.
And a spark of anticipation.
A dash of wild obsession.
Suddenly, the eyes soared into the air, squinting, dialing down their presence, hiding that intense, intimidating gaze. The wind grew restless. A faint, ghostly figure flashed through the sky—like an immortal riding the breeze—chasing after the distant shadow.
Beside the shattered glass wall on the Burj Khalifa, Agent Durex glanced at the direction BIG-BOSS had vanished. "So that’s it—no wonder there was so much noise. By the way, are you guys ready over there? Is it absolutely safe?"
"Of course it’s absolutely safe." Qi Meng’s voice came through the mic. "You can trust me with Auntie’s personal safety. But let me repeat: anything else, I’m not responsible for."
"You’ve already helped a ton."
Three minutes later, a massive boulder was hurled from the top of the Burj Khalifa, smashing a luxury car a kilometer away into scrap. Gunfire erupted, wild as a brushfire, instantly tearing apart any illusion of peace in Dubai’s desert gold pit.
Dubai, the desert pearl—turned into a battlefield.