Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system

Replacing the original defenders' positions, the effect was immediate. Incoming rounds lessened as seconds ticked by—until they stopped entirely.

Spirit Fox exploited the enemy's retreat and advanced. Crisscrossing across the hallway, their muzzles led and seized control.

The FBI team was stunned by the outrageous success and couldn't help but doubt their own earlier performance.

If not for the heated, stressful occasion that demanded enormous calories, their blushing faces might have embarrassed them.

Without comparison, it had seemed like they held up well enough, but the disparity shown by Spirit Fox completely overturned their confidence.

The gunfight died down after the terrorists abandoned their comrades. A Spirit Fox operator punched in additional rounds to confirm the kills before proceeding.

The FBI team still wanted to follow but was dissuaded. After all, Team One didn't allow any external factors to interfere with their job.

With reluctance, the group returned to their original gathering point, where the temporary team had formed.

Even the local police were glad to oblige, since they weren't willing to risk their lives in the first place.

Now that someone was willing to take over their responsibility, they couldn't care less.

As for fearing blame from their superiors—they had already proven their worth during the most dangerous phase.

On the other hand, Agent Hill and Agent Sitwell didn't feel good about stopping their involvement in the mess.

Though relieved inwardly, there was a hint of unwillingness. Particularly for Agent Hill, who suppressed her excitement upon noticing that many of the additional operators supporting them were women too.

As someone of the same gender in a similar field, Agent Hill understood the difficulties women faced.

To see so many versions of herself on the battlefield was both a motivator and living proof of what the so-called 'weaker gender' could truly do.

She pitied the operators more after witnessing their outrageous expertise. How much effort and sweat had they poured in? How much had they bled?

If the operators heard her lamentation, they would remain silent, at a loss for words.

This female agent wasn't wrong—but not entirely right either.

In any case, Spirit Fox didn't have the time or energy to care about others' thoughts and reactions.

They were relentlessly pursuing the terrorists. Even if the black-ops unit was pretending, their actions were already sinful.

For people like that, Spirit Fox was adamant about instilling righteousness.

Their regular work in law enforcement back home had built a strong mindset and foundation for this pursuit:

Minimal Justice and Morality.

They weren't despicable beings who preached moral responsibility while avoiding the tasks themselves.

They upheld the bare minimum boundaries that a person with a humane mindset should have:

Help when you can—without endangering yourself if possible.

Not to mention, the Spirit Fox girls were far beyond just that. They were highly capable and very keen on eliminating threats.

What did it matter if the terrorists' identities could endanger their own group?

Would those backgrounds dare to admit themselves publicly?

Since they were now terrorists, Spirit Fox was happy to treat them as such.

Before Agent Hill even had the opportunity to warm up to the operators, they dispersed quickly in pursuit.

Of course, the girls had noticed her expression—but time waited for no one.

The longer they wasted here, the more people would die—either shot on the spot or bleeding out.

The Golden Hour was crucial during rescue operations, regardless of what kind of emergency they were dealing with.

In fact, the Spirit Fox operators had paid attention to the only woman helping the defenders hold off the terrorists.

With Athena's detailed intel, they already knew Agent Hill's identity.

They wanted to connect and expand the network—after all, it seemed like they were working in the same field.

What bodyguard? Although it was a real job, they worked part-time as specialists in police and military operations too.

The operators rushed after the fleeing terrorists, quickly piecing together the reason behind the retreat.

It was likely that a warning—delivered through the elimination of their comrades by Team Two—had set off the current chain of events.

They understood the mission was now a foregone conclusion. Lin Fan and the others had also sensed the sudden shift in the wind.

Bang! Bang!

Tat! Tat! Tat!

The muffled bangs of suppressed weapons clashed with the thunderous cracks of AK rifles.

Though the enemies initially managed to maintain formation during their withdrawal, the relentless pressure from Spirit Fox soon broke them down.

Sure, these terrorists were once elite-tier special operators—but even the old must eventually pass their thrones to the young.

And beyond that, the disparity in levels and support between the two sides was vast—like a chasm.

Around the elevator, as the terrorists backed off and slid down to the underground, probably leading to the parking lots for the staff or whatnot, Spirit Fox operators bit at their heels.

One of the last terrorists spun around and fired maniacally in Spirit Fox's direction. The pointswoman had to retract her head just in time, letting the corner serve as her cover.

She was about to return fire—but the terrorist shot first.

From past experience and honed instincts, she knew the enemy's muzzle was zeroed in directly on her position.

This wasn't fear—it was training. Her skin prickled, not from danger, but from a stimulus—an ingrained sense—that warned her: the bullets coming from that barrel would hit her dead-on.

It was something mysterious. A battle-hardened intuition shared by all Spirit Fox members.

Like a boxer who ducks instinctively after being hit countless times, these lessons became second nature—only after an immense amount of suffering and relentless, punishing drills.

If she tried to compete in that moment, she might score a hit—but she would be hit too.

Even with the secret sutra passed down by Tang Ziyi that enhanced their physiques, it wasn't enough.

Yes, they were quicker, stronger, and sturdier than peak human limits. But even so—it was impossible to react, aim, and fire faster than the enemy already pulling the trigger.

Let's imagine an average human reaction speed of 0.5 seconds.

This meant the operator had less than 0.1 seconds to think, then only 0.4 seconds to move out of cover, aim, shoot, and get back into cover.

0.5 seconds might be average—but against trained opponents, that margin shrinks even further.

Perhaps Ling Qingyu and her closest aides could pull it off—but not every operator in this battle.

Unless absolutely necessary, Spirit Fox operators avoided taking bullets—regardless of their body armor or protection level.

Somehow, this creed had spread among the team—an internal culture started by veterans.

Just as many elite forces disdain anyone who shoots at civilians—even by mistake—Spirit Fox had their own standard:

They would mock any operator who got wounded by carelessness in the same cold, biting way.

Shrapnel and sonic booms rattled around her—but the pointswoman held her ground.

She took a deep breath, steadying her racing thoughts.

She couldn't blindfire. She couldn't prefire, either—not here, not now. There were civilians around, even if most were sprawled on the floor from being shot or injured or pretending to be one.

In any case, they couldn't afford to risk an unrelated casualties. The terrorists could disregard the lives of civilians but they couldn't

Fire superiority wasn't earned by haste.

And she knew—haste would only ruin everything.

When the suppression dropped, she sprang out from cover and fired two shots at the disappearing figure down the slope.

The sound of a heavy object crashing and sliding off the elevator echoed amidst the heated gunfire. She had scored a kill.

A sister behind her gave her arm a quick squeeze, and she moved out from cover.

The other operators covered their sectors as the formation advanced toward the elevator.

From their high vantage point, they opened fire on terrorists who burst out of a room, kicking the door open with brute force.

Puff! Puff!

Easy kills.

Team One's operators had already secured parts of the downstairs area.

In the trailer, Team One's leader frowned as she noticed a dropped rifle on the floor.

As the leader, she typically refrained from engaging directly unless necessary—her subordinates were responsible for neutralizing threats.

If every member fulfilled their role properly, she had more time and energy to think and act strategically.

This weapon on the floor was a clue.

She speculated that a terrorist had tried to blend in with civilians to escape.

Another possibility was that it had simply been dropped by mistake or during a scuffle.

But she wasn't one to gamble.

Even if there was only a one-percent chance, she would check thoroughly.

She signaled her partner to follow her toward the nearest room.

Naturally, during pursuit of primary targets, the operators didn't have the luxury to clear every room—unless the enemies were close to their formation.

Rooms like these were often left until secondary clearance.

But now, with a lull in action and no one in sight, they resumed systematic room-clearing procedures.

The leader raised her rifle and positioned herself against the wall beside the doorknob.

Tucking her SCAR tightly under her armpit, she tested the knob—unlocked.

She glanced at her partner.

Sophia gave a small nod, her barrel shifting in quiet confirmation. A silent "ready."

Yes—Ling Qingyu's new secretary had accompanied the mission.

Hidden behind a holographic mask, she had blended in with the guard team, her identity concealed.

Receiving the signal, the leader twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

She took a step back, raising her rifle. Together, they cleared the room from the threshold—

Another connected room came into view.

Sophia stepped in first, followed closely by the leader, her barrel extended just beside Sophia's elbow.