UE CH88: The Banquet

Litton’s face paled as he looked at Sanjay on the stage.

After a brief shock, Sanjay gestured to him expressionlessly.

Litton hadn’t seen this signal in years, and it took a moment to recall it as one of many codes they’d set before boarding the “Columbus.”

…Cut the power.

…

Sanjay had anticipated that since the “bomber,” using Feng Xueyuan’s name, had killed Xiao Lin and Jensen, they wouldn’t miss the “Columbus” 12th anniversary celebration.

So, Sanjay had been on high alert, feigning nonchalance while meticulously screening visitors, hoping to catch the bomber red-handed.

Yet, the bomber didn’t show until the big day.

Sanjay had started to relax, only for the bomber to strike at the most bustling, high-profile moment!

But Sanjay had resolved not to follow the bomber’s instructions.

His confidence stemmed from outsiders’ ignorance of the “Columbus” Memorial Concert Hall’s security system.

Despite its grand, ship-like exterior and intricate design, the interior had only two clearly defined zones:

The opulent concert hall and its attached living quarters.

The desolate memorial museum.

The concert hall was a gilded cage Sanjay had perfected over years.

Impenetrable, it supplied all food and drink, rejecting anything deemed “dangerous.”

Not even a lighter could get in, let alone a bomb!

Thus, any bomb would be in the museum, not the hall.

Compared to the hall’s ironclad defenses, the museum’s security was laxer.

It used standard fixed cameras, not “Swarm,” leaving visual blind spots, marked clearly with “You are under surveillance.”

This was unavoidable.

First, the museum was a public space, frequented by civilian children.

Dense surveillance was pointless and risked accusations of illegally harvesting biometric data—a charge harmful to their “heroic cause.”

Second, entering the hall from the museum required passing a security corridor, allowing no slip-ups.

Third, the museum had been closed to visitors for three days, accessible only from the heavily guarded hall.

To prevent bored elites from wandering there during the banquet, Sanjay assigned a trusted cleaning company—fully vetted, “absolutely safe”—to clean daily.

No one reported anything unusual in the museum.

What about the bomber’s motive?

Ghosts from the past were nonsense.

After so many years, the families of those they killed were likely long gone.

The only ones with motive and access to CL-30-grade bombs were the big company that hired them back then.

But the guests present were all tied to Silver Hammer City’s six major companies.

Surely, they wouldn’t sacrifice dozens of elite lives just to eliminate a few outdated heroes?

Combining these factors, Sanjay was certain the bomber was bluffing.

As for their goal, Sanjay had pondered for days, reaching a logical conclusion:

The bomber was hired by the big company.

The corporate titans saw them as a nuisance.

Xiao Lin and Jensen’s frequent public activities had drawn their doom.

The bomber’s public call-out of Litton for the handover confirmed Sanjay’s suspicions.

Socially, Litton was active, seizing every chance to mingle with higher-ups.

The titans likely despised this.

They wanted low-profile, tragically young heroes, not social butterflies.

But Sanjay hadn’t endured years to be molded into a spineless fool.

He knew the titans wouldn’t act directly.

So, they hired the bomber—just as they’d hired Sanjay’s team to deal with the hopeful youths on the “Columbus.”

Sanjay bided his time to outlast them, not to sit and wait for death.

Deep down, he was still a killer waiting for his moment.

So, he signaled Litton to cut the hall’s main power during the west gate handover.

If the bomber, a master of disguise, was among them, darkness would be their best chance to act.

The “Swarm” ran on an independent encrypted line, unaffected by power cuts.

Its perfect night vision would lock onto the bomber until they were caught.

If the bomber wasn’t inside, cutting power would silence them, ending their ghostly antics.

Sanjay didn’t care what happened to the men and women in the banquet hall, plunged into panic and suddenly deprived of light.

Let chaos reign, let stampedes occur.

With the bomber as a ready scapegoat, what did they have to fear?

Litton, quick-witted, instantly grasped Sanjay’s intent.

Conveniently, he had no desire to deliver any broadcast equipment for the bomber.

Who knew what they were planning?

Litton paused, then faced the anxious crowd, delivering a smooth, stirring speech without hesitation:

“My apologies for our poor hospitality, causing an unpleasant evening. Someone is using despicable tactics to sabotage our charity efforts. Silver Hammer City has its share of such people. As your hosts, we’ll do everything to ensure your safety.”

Litton, seasoned in PR, spoke with a soothing charm.

Having peddled grand lies to Silver Hammer’s public for over a decade, their falsehoods had become truth, lending their speeches an air of heroic righteousness.

After his statement, Litton turned to leave.

Before exiting, he shed his tailored suit jacket, draping it gracefully over a chair.

Litton stepped through the west exit, unbuttoning his shirt’s top buttons to breathe easier.

He knew the “Columbus” Concert Hall like the back of his hand, navigable blind.

Their hidden self-controlled circuit breaker was by the corridor outside the west door, right on the path to the west gate.

Unlike Sanjay, who relished self-denial, or Hardan, who loved violence, Litton cherished his hero title.

While Sanjay aimed to catch the bomber to prove they weren’t pushovers, Litton was already planning how to spin this for a PR triumph, rekindling their “hero” status, ensuring the big companies wouldn’t target them further.

Former naval heroes, aiding “White Shield” to capture a major societal threat.

…Great headlines.

They could even launch a new musical based on it, with bomb-themed merchandise.

With such cheerful thoughts, Litton, head down, briskly reached his destination, swiftly opening a concealed wall panel and yanking the lever!

Yet, the concert hall remained brilliantly lit.

Three kilometers away, at an unfinished fixed platform under Ruiteng Corporation by the sea… an explosion erupted.

The shock and roar arrived seconds later.

For those seconds, Litton’s vision was filled with searing fire and blinding white light.

The platform, resembling a sprawling black python, now roared with flames, transforming into a fire-breathing dragon, painting the sky a dazzling coral red.

As the heart-stopping blast echoed across the sea, the bomber’s voice on the broadcast changed.

…To another lively female voice.

She was the “Columbus” data specialist, petite, killed years ago by Litton’s strangulation, her death gruesome.

“Oh, let’s congratulate Mr. Litton for winning the banquet’s first prize.”

“I made some remote tweaks to your hall’s circuits.”

“Just follow Sister Min’s instructions… why do unnecessary things?”

“Who knows if Mr. Litton wanted to cut the lights, plunge everyone into darkness, and escape alone?”

“…Like you did on the ‘Columbus.’”

Litton stared at the rising, writhing fire outside, his heart sinking into a boiling abyss, his face numb, lips twitching in a near-tearful grimace.

…The real bomb was planted at the fixed platform?

And he’d pressed the detonation switch himself?

How could the bomber be so sure… he’d cut the power?

After another earth-shaking blast, many in the hall went weak with fear, but since the danger was clearly outside, they heeded the bomber’s warning, refraining from fleeing. They crouched on the floor under the hall’s warm lights, dignity abandoned.

How many caught the unnamed woman’s words was unclear.

Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai joined the crowd, lying low.

Shan Feibai draped an arm over Ning Zhuo’s shoulder, his long fingers sneaking to Ning Zhuo’s chest, tracing words through the thin shirt where the “Swarm” couldn’t see:

“Ning-ge, what’d I tell you before we left?”

“Fireworks for you!”

Ning Zhuo, seeing the chaos escalate, wasn’t worried Shan Feibai would harm innocents.

His chest tingled and itched from Shan Feibai’s touch; unable to bear it, he grabbed his hand, ordering coldly, “Want to die? Stop groping.”

Shan Feibai withdrew his fingers, rubbing them secretly, amused.

But, as if scared of the bombs, he buried his face in Ning Zhuo’s shoulder, hiding a smug smile.

---

Author’s Note:

[Silver Hammer Daily]

Breaking News Alert:

An urgent update!

Ruiteng Corporation’s Troy C-type fixed liquid gold platform suffered an unexplained massive explosion!

Reports confirm only robots were on-site at night, with no human casualties, but Ruiteng faces nearly 2 billion in property losses!

Silver Hammer Daily will continue to follow this story.