"Xingtian, scan the network access points."
"Connecting to the thermostatic control system, scanning thermal imaging, generating 3D map simulation…"
Whew, good thing the public system is still accessible. Honestly, in this day and age, who's still messing with fax machines and shredders? That's just ridiculous.
Li Pan studied the 3D warehouse map displayed before him. While the monster's storage area likely had special doors or seals, the outer warehouse facilities were still registered tax-paying assets. That meant they had to be connected to the security network and undergo fire inspections.
With TheM Corporation's admin privileges—and a direct link via system chip—Li Pan accessed the warehouse's video feed, voiceprints, and temperature monitoring.
From the surveillance feed, he confirmed that the Whirlpool Gang's hackers had already disabled the outer automated defenses: cleared the mines, shut down the guard turrets on the third floor, brought in a van, and sent a rooftop team to infiltrate. One group was cutting into the second-floor control room door with a plasma cutter, while another was running lines along the outer wall.
In this era of the massive Internet of Things, every citizen and device was connected to the QVN network, monitored by the Public Safety System. Even hacking into a remote-control toy car required breaching HT Technology's firewall head-on. Without corporate-level backing and technical support, it was impossible in every sense.
Still, Li Pan could guess what they were doing. In the Whirlpool Gang's van, there was likely an illegal subnet server, maybe salvaged from an old factory. Once they physically breached the control room, they'd sever the warehouse server's connection to the public network and reroute it to their own virtual server.
That way, they could bypass HT Technology entirely, link directly to the server's subnet, build a virtual machine system, and avoid the Public Safety System's firewall. From there, all they'd have to do was crack the warehouse server's internal firewall to seize control and unlock every door leading to the underground storage.
Crude but effective—a simple hacking method only lunatics could dream up. But they were in for a surprise, because TheM Corporation's cybersecurity outsourcing was purchased from HT Technology.
This was a high-priority storage site for company products. The security wasn't for show. Even this "crappy warehouse" was equipped with HT Technology's most advanced anti-hacker service package. Each terminal cost millions in monthly fees; all forty-two warehouses were updated and maintained in real time. Even a forced disconnect and reboot was useless—without manager-level access, you couldn't even turn on a cleaning robot. That's the luxury of the rich.
While resetting the defense robots and turrets for a surprise counterattack, Li Pan reached the end of the hidden passage. His expression hardened when he saw the concealed door to the warehouse.
The "back door" was open. Whoever had come through clearly lacked general manager access and didn't seem to be a technical hacker—they'd simply cut through the alloy security door.
Li Pan checked the door's material: Level 5 tech, the same armor plating used on battleships.
He didn't enter immediately. Instead, he crouched at the entrance and checked the surveillance feeds. There was nothing unusual on video or thermal imaging, but the audio monitors picked up abnormal sounds near Container No. 7 on Basement Level 2.
Not only did this "invisible man" know about the hidden back door—they also knew exactly which container held the monster.
Could the company really have a mole?
And this killer who entered through the back door had optical camouflage or some sort of puppet program with hacker support, erasing themselves from the surveillance records. They knew exactly where the monster was stored and had formidable combat ability. This had to be a high-grade corporate hound, equipped with at least Level 5 tech.
The Whirlpool Gang might well have been a distraction, lured here to take the blame. That way, the "invisible hound" could quietly steal the No. 7 monster and leave TheM Corporation chasing after the gang instead. Even if someone noticed the back door, the pile of rotting corpses there would be enough of a diversion for the real thief to vanish without a trace.
Anyone who could slice through alloy plating and stay invisible under surveillance was not someone Li Pan could take head-on in a narrow tunnel. One strike and he'd be dead. He wasn't stupid enough to try.
And he had just located Big Bear on the surveillance.
Other than being "already dead," Big Bear looked exactly the same as when Li Pan had last seen him.
The heavily modified cyborg stood in the second-floor control room. His brainwaves were flat—brain-dead—according to the subnet's biometric feed.
But Li Pan couldn't find the cause. His system scan showed no wounds, no hacking intrusion, no fried chips—nothing.
Clearly, the Monster Company wouldn't make mistakes with its managerial succession rules. If it weren't for the policy that "the company cannot be without a general manager," such authority would never have fallen to a temp crew chief.
But why had everyone in the Monster Company died so mysteriously—including a cyborg like Big Bear—while Li Pan was left unharmed? He'd been in direct contact with Big Bear. If the company were responsible, killing a temp like him would've been easy.
No time to think about that now. With the Whirlpool Gang about to breach the door, Li Pan used his general manager privileges to shut down all warehouse defenses outside the second-floor control room and unlock the doors to the underground storage.
If they were here to steal, let them. It wasn't like he'd risk his life to protect company property.
The gang, halfway through cutting into the wall, froze. What the hell? The doors opened before they'd even connected to the server? Power outage? Network drop?
Didn't matter—they rushed in to loot.
The sudden change also caught the "invisible corporate hound" off guard. The hound had been trying to bypass the Basement Level 2, No. 7 storage defenses—possibly using a hacking device instead of brute force—but now the gang had stormed in.
Amusingly, the gang also went straight for Container No. 7.
The warehouse had no room to maneuver—just one cargo lift and a single hallway.
Out of courtesy, Li Pan turned on the lights so no one would trip in the dark. He even switched them to high-beam mode—blindingly bright.
The hound's invisibility wasn't literal; it was adaptive optical camouflage paired with puppet imaging erasure for cameras. The sudden change in light disrupted it, briefly revealing their outline.
"What the hell—ghost!"
"Someone's here! Someone's hiding!"
"Motherf—! Scared the crap out of me!"
"Ratatatat! Ratatatat! Ratatatatat!"
The gang reacted with a storm of bullets, grenades, and explosives.
Under the hail of gunfire, the hound had to change tactics.
"Ah! My head—my head's gone!"
"Ratatat!"
"Ahhh!"
"Ninja! There's a ninja down here! Reinforcements!"
"Ratatatatat!"
The hound's cover was blown, and the surveillance feed shifted from horror movie to sword-fighting montage. Blade flashes, severed limbs, rolling heads—once they dropped stealth and entered combat mode, the hound moved like a hurricane, a blur of blood and motion.
They wore a black latex bodysuit with metal knee and wrist guards, a form-fitting frame, a face-covering electronic visor, and a long ponytail. Whether they were actually a woman was anyone's guess—these days, anything could be custom-built.
They carried a katana with a heated plasma edge that glowed with energy bursts, cutting through gang members as easily as slicing vegetables. From Basement Level 2 to the second floor, bodies fell in their wake.
Even in a world of guns, this brutal, cold-blooded melee style still drew adrenaline junkies to watch in arenas and underground fight clubs.
Li Pan, a seasoned viewer, immediately recognized the speed: military-grade central nervous system enhancement—Level 6 custom tech. An artificial spine and nerve network that made time feel slower, costing tens of millions.
And that Muramasa heat blade? Able to slice alloy armor. Even with a kitchen knife, they could butcher someone in seconds.
The hound's swordsmanship was flawless, clearly backed by top-tier operating systems and martial arts software to match their high-end hardware.
Li Pan's own combat power? Maybe fifty thousand, tops. Theirs? Tens of millions—maybe more.
In moments, the Whirlpool Gang was slaughtered.
Still, this wasn't an ordinary gang—they regrouped fast, sending more vans of fighters back in. RPGs, gunfire, curses filled the air. Some were fully cybernetic fighters with mantis blades, leaping three stories in a single bound to clash with the hound.
For all their scrap-built cyberware and homemade combat drugs, they managed to put up a fight—until side effects hit and cyberpsychosis kicked in, making them attack friend and foe alike.
The warehouse became a three-way massacre: corporate killer, cyberpsychos, and gang grunts.
And in the middle of this chaos, the hound realized something: the heist no longer mattered. They were exposed, and every survivor was a potential witness. Leaving anyone alive would let the company trace them.
The only option: kill them all.
While the battle raged above, Li Pan found a cleaning robot in the storage area and sent it to unlock Basement Level 2, Container No. 7.
Inside was a trapezoid-shaped military alloy container, bound in black ropes and covered in yellow talismans, rust streaking its surface.
It looked disturbingly like a coffin from an old zombie movie.
Could it really be holding a zombie?
And even if it was—what good was a zombie in this day and age? Could it survive a few RPG hits?
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
🔗 patreon.com/DrManhattanEN