From the moment they stepped into the gss pyramid entrance of the Louvre, the faces of the ten billionaires were more tense than ever before.

  The Louvre was no longer the world-renowned museum for admiration and reverence; it had transformed into a courtroom awaiting a life-or-death verdict. Just two hours after receiving the kidnappers' message, the museum had been completely closed to the public.

  The vanguard units had conducted a thorough search, both inside and outside the museum, yet found nothing unusual. The billionaires paced nervously through the Denon Wing, their eyes constantly shifting toward the gss-paneled enclosure where the Mona Lisa smiled, as serene as ever. But perhaps it was their growing unease, or perhaps it was a trick of the mind—no matter which angle they viewed her from, the enigmatic eyes of the painting seemed to carry a subtle, mocking expression. The billionaires couldn't help but feel uneasy under her gaze.

  Each of them carried a deep-colored leather briefcase, each with a different design, yet all equally understated. Inside, the contents were enough to make any ordinary person gape in disbelief. There was the world's rgest and most exquisite diamond, the "Star of Africa"; a night pearl with a thousand-year history from the Far East; the test contract for oil drilling rights in a Middle Eastern country; and even a bank note worth over a hundred billion. As per the kidnappers’ instructions, they had brought what they considered to be their most precious possessions.

  Time dragged on more slowly than ever. Apart from the heavy breathing echoing through the galleries and the wary gnces exchanged, there was nothing else. No further messages from the kidnappers. As dusk settled, the atmosphere grew more suffocating. Armed agents and officers surrounded the billionaires, their fingers tight around their weapons, sweat seeping from their palms as their hearts raced in constant, high-frequency beats. The tension was palpable, as if everyone were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen—anything—yet nothing came.

  As the st rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the edge of the city, the temperature inside the museum began to drop in a strange, unnatural way. Andre watched in shock as his own breath turned into a cloud of mist—a sight normally reserved for winter... but it was July!

  An hour ago, Mu Yeliang had received a call from the Chinese National Security Headquarters, ordering him to immediately return to the Paris safety center for a new assignment. If he were here now, Andre thought with a hint of frustration, that loquacious little parrot of a man would probably start shouting about the odd temperature drop and offering some ridiculous theories.

  Just as Andre let his guard down for a moment, something unexpected happened. A gray shadow suddenly shot up from beneath the smooth floor. Yes, it was as if it had surged up from deep below, rapidly spinning in a vortex-like motion. In the blink of an eye, it formed a dark, grayish-bck "divide" between the billionaires and the police, like a river running through the room. The air grew heavier, colder still, and a sense of impending danger rippled through the space.

  The cold, violent wind screamed through the room, slicing at their skin like the edge of a thousand razors. André's eyes were smmed shut, as though invisible, ice-cold hands were forcing them closed with a crushing pressure. In that instant, his vision went dark, and the freezing pain spread like wildfire, quickly radiating outward from his eyelids to consume his whole body. He felt as if he were encased in solid ice, trapped in a frozen prison, unable to move.

  Though the freezing sensation only sted a few seconds, it felt to everyone in the room as if they had endured an eternity in hell; only now, finally, were they returned to the world of the living. The air around them crackled with a strange tension, and the lingering chill clung to their bones, as if the world itself had briefly turned to ice.

  After a moment of disorientation, the first thing everyone thought of was the ten wealthy individuals standing just a few feet away. Fortunately, they were all intact, their limbs unharmed, standing there in confusion, looking at each other.

  However, unfortunately, all of their briefcases had disappeared.

  There was also one detail that even they hadn′t noticed and probably never would notice—on each of their necks, there was a tiny needle mark, so faint it couldn′t be seen with the naked eye.

  "Am I dreaming...?" one of the young police officers muttered quietly. They were all thorough materialists, not believing in the supernatural, not believing in ghosts or gods, and their belief in God was merely a habit of life.

  But those briefcases, tightly clutched by the wealthy men and filled with invaluable treasures, had been swept away right before their eyes. The key point was, no one even saw who came or how they managed to pull off this act in such a heavily guarded scene.

  The expressions on the faces of the wealthy men grew darker, looking like the living dead just risen from their coffins. The Mona Lisa still smiled on the wall, and the more their faces darkened, the more beautiful her smile became, starkly contrasting.

  Andre shook his head forcefully, repeating to himself that what he had just seen was probably just an illusion. But after nearly twenty years on the force, he had never been so conflicted, doubting his own eyes like this. At that moment, his phone rang. Andre steadied himself, pulled out his phone, and saw that the number was from the police headquarters.

  "Hello?" He pressed the answer button, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

  "Mu Yeliang? He went back to headquarters? What? In the hospital?" Andre's tone grew higher, his face becoming increasingly troubled. "Found three days ago? How is that possible! He's been with me this whole time!"

  The commotion around him grew louder, quickly drowning out his voice.