Chapter 40
Seventh day of resurrection in the deep sea, Tsar underground vault -3rd floor.
At 2:17 AM, in a blind spot of the monitoring system, condensate was dripping from the ventilation pipe.
Yu Chen shoved the last fuse into the top layer of the safe—
There, the file 【YC-2025】 lay quietly, its pages yellowed, like a pre-written death sentence.
Her fingers tightened silently on the edge of the document, her voice barely audible:
“Vichy, you sentenced me to death with your pen, I will write your obituary with fire.”
Seal engraving remote transmission —
Liquid magnesium thermoelectric agent - casino-grade
Combustion temperature: 2200℃
Duration: 7 minutes and 30 seconds
Adhesion: Steel can be melted, data can be vaporized.
Yu Chen stuck the metal can to the inside of the safe, like inserting a pacemaker into an enemy's heart—
This time, however, it was fire that was dancing.
At 02:30, the vault timed lock reset.
Yu Chen, wearing a black fireproof mask, stood with his back to the safe, and gently pressed a button on the remote control—
"drop--"
The fuse, like a crimson serpent, snaked along the fuse and instantly burrowed into the metal gap.
In the first second, the magnesiac agent erupted, and an incandescent column of fire shot into the sky;
In the third second, the steel safe began to melt, like ice melting in the sun;
In the fifth second, the [YC-2025] file was engulfed by flames, and the pages instantly vaporized, leaving not even ashes.
In the seventh second, the fire sprinkler system on the vault ceiling automatically activated, but it was instantly evaporated by the high temperature, and white mist filled the air, like a wedding dress draped over the fire.
In the tenth second, the entire -3 floor began to collapse, and pillars of fire burst through the ceiling, rising upwards along the ventilation ducts—
Like writing an obituary for an enemy in advance and then sealing it with a final seal.
03:00, Tsar top floor.
Vickery stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, his knuckles silently tightening around the "Cheng Yan Death Report"—
The report pages were illuminated by the distant, towering flames, as if a pre-written obituary had been forcibly turned over.
He turned abruptly, looking towards the vault—
A pillar of fire shot into the sky, its incandescent light illuminating the entire night sky, like a giant white candle lit in the darkness.
His voice was so low it was barely a whisper: "Who started the fire?"
But that red hue swallowed by the deep sea can no longer be found.
The fire continued to burn, like a preemptively tolling bell—
This time, no one let go.
But someone used the resurrection key to unlock their enemy's final trump card.
Then he threw the whole deck of cards into the fire, leaving not even ashes.
At 3:30, the fire continued to burn.
Tsar commercial data center, servers begin automatic self-destruction.
The hard drive was vaporized by the high temperature, leaving not even ashes;
The casino's surveillance footage was engulfed by flames, leaving no backups;
The original debt contract of Vich was engulfed by the pillar of fire, leaving not even ashes;
The list of traitors, illuminated by the firelight, had vanished without a trace.
The fire continued to burn, like a pre-written obituary for an enemy, sealed with the final seal.
Yu Chen stood on a distant rooftop, her long black hair whipping wildly in the fire wind, like a cluster of fire that had been rekindled.
She lowered her head, pressed the tiny USB drive against her fingertip, and spoke in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper:
“Vicky, the door you closed—”
I'll open it for you with fire.
The fire continued to burn, like a preemptively tolling bell—
This time, no one let go.
But someone used the Ash Key to unlock their enemy's final trump card.
Then he threw the whole deck of cards into the fire, leaving not even ashes.
As the fire surged over the top floor of Tsar, the incandescent light burned a hole in the night sky.
Yu Chen stood on the opposite rooftop, his knuckles silently tightening on the remote control—
The magnesium thermoelectric agent had been used up after 7 minutes and 30 seconds, but the pillar of fire was still licking the steel, like singing a final elegy for an enemy.
She lowered her head, tucked her long black hair into her fireproof mask, and spoke in a voice so low it was barely a whisper:
"Vicchi, it's your turn."
04:17, at the edge of the fire.
Surrounded by bodyguards, Vicki rushed out of the security passage. His short, gray hair was curled by the heat, and the Patek Philippe reflected the towering flames, as if announcing the time of death.
He looked up at the fire—
But then they saw a person standing on the edge of the roof, opposite the fire.
Long black hair, fireproof mask, holding something in her hand—
An extremely light and short silver pistol,
Like the last card emerging from the ashes.
The gun was pointed at his forehead, as if making the sign of death.
Yu Chen didn't speak, not a single word.
Just pull the trigger—
"Bang!"
The bullet pierced through the flames, through the heatwave, through all the failures and nightmares of the past four years.
It landed precisely on Vic's forehead.
Like putting the last red cross on the [YC-2025] file.
Blood splattered on the night illuminated by the firelight, like a white chrysanthemum lit for an enemy.
Viktor fell, his golden canine teeth flashing in the firelight.
Like sealing an unfinished obituary with a final seal.
The gun was still smoking, but no one was chasing anymore.
Because the entire deck of cards had been thrown into the fire, leaving not even ashes.
At 04:30, the fire continued to burn.
Yu Chen stood on the roof and threw the silver pistol into the fire.
It's like sending an enemy on their final journey.
She lowered her head, pressed the tiny USB drive against her fingertip, and spoke in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper:
“Vicky, the door you closed—”
I opened it with fire and locked it with a gun.
The fire continued to burn, like a preemptively tolling bell—
This time, no one let go.
But someone used the Ash Key to unlock their enemy's final trump card.
Then he threw the whole deck of cards into the fire, leaving not even ashes.
The firelight reflected on her face, like adding delayed coordinates to an unfinished analysis:
—I can push it away, but I can't forget it.
You can escape, but you can't hide.
—The fake is dead, the real one has been resurrected.
—The final shot has been fired.
The fire continued to burn, like lighting a final white candle for a resurrection unknown to anyone.
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