No Leaking Frozen Milk

"It's not even that hot out, why are you already eating ice cream?"

"Old Huang, this is a Wuyang cone, alright?"

After finishing his drink, he started on the ice cream—boredom had clearly set in while waiting.

But it was almost time.

Lin Mo sat at the convenience store across from the school.

Within a two-hundred-meter radius of any elementary or middle school, there was always a convenience store. It was practically an unbreakable rule.

Huang Zhirong didn’t mind Lin Mo calling him "Old Huang."

After all, they weren’t at school—he could call him whatever he liked.

Besides, Lin Mo was practically a lucky charm. With him around, Huang was sure they’d take first place in the upcoming exam and bring honor to the school. As he nibbled on his old-fashioned popsicle, the principal couldn’t help but grin to himself.

Meanwhile, three blocks away…

A black Land Cruiser weaved recklessly through traffic, violently shoving slower cars aside.

Fresh bullet holes pockmarked the rear, stark and ominous.

A few hundred meters behind, police sirens wailed as cruisers demanded right of way.

The sound grew louder, clear even inside the convenience store.

But Lin Mo’s spiritual sense had already locked onto the vehicles.

Six men occupied the lead Land Cruiser.

The driver’s face was twisted with fury. In the backseat, a wounded accomplice slumped, his arm a mess of blood and gunshot trauma.

The others clutched firearms—pistols, rifles—their firepower nothing to scoff at.

The cabin reeked of blood and gunpowder, every face etched with the desperation of men with nothing to lose.

Lin Mo’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around his cone, the wafer cracking faintly.

His gaze turned icy.

In an instant, his spiritual sense condensed into an invisible spike, driving straight into the driver’s skull.

The man’s body seized mid-turn.

His mind burned as if pierced by a red-hot iron rod. Darkness swallowed his vision. Agony tore a scream from his throat—more animal than human.

His hands spasmed, wrenching the wheel hard to the right.

The out-of-control SUV became a runaway beast, careening across the road—straight toward the school opposite Lin Mo.

Just then, the bell rang. Upstairs, exam papers were being collected.

Lin Mo frowned. He’d only meant to immobilize the driver—stop the car, let the police handle the rest.

But the man’s pain-induced convulsions had sent the vehicle swerving wildly.

"BOOM!"

The flimsy wall stood no chance. The SUV plowed through, rubble flying.

Principal Huang saw it all, slapping his thigh in alarm, oblivious to the melting popsicle dripping onto his slacks.

"Ah! Ah! That car just crashed into the school—are those people even alive?"

Lin Mo would prefer they weren’t.

From Huang Zhirong’s angle, the bullet holes weren’t visible.

The moment of impact, Lin Mo’s spiritual sense lashed the engine—harder this time—rendering it useless.

The men inside moved like professionals, bailing swiftly, some hauling duffel bags.

A sweep of Lin Mo’s senses revealed the contents: explosives.

There were detonators, C4 explosives, and plenty of military-grade grenades.

Just who the hell were these guys?!

Maybe we should just take them out?

The group jumped out of their vehicle and immediately sprinted toward the school building.

Meanwhile, the wailing sirens of police cars had already arrived on the scene.

It was only then that Director Huang snapped out of his daze.

"Oh my god, those people seem to be chased by the police! They've rushed into the school—what do we do now?"

Despite his words, Director Huang abruptly stood up and hurried toward the school gate.

At the entrance, a police car screeched to a halt, and several officers leaped out, shouting at the security guard, "Open the gate now!"

The gate was some distance from the collapsed wall, and the guard, still clueless about the situation, looked at the officers with curiosity and moved forward to ask questions.

Huang Zhirong came panting up to them and yelled, "No time for questions—open the gate! Let the officers in to catch them!"

The guard had just let Huang Zhirong through earlier and recognized the badge on his chest. Though utterly confused, he fumbled to press the gate-opening button at the urgent command.

Huang Zhirong turned, gasping for breath, and said to the nearest officer, "Comrade, the school building... it's full of students, they're in the middle of an exam!"

The officers' expressions darkened instantly.

Hostages. The word burned in their minds like a branding iron.

One officer stayed behind to secure the perimeter while the other three jumped back into their car and sped into the campus without hesitation.

By now, Lin Mo had also reached the school gate.

The remaining officer immediately blocked him and Director Huang, his tone leaving no room for argument: "It's dangerous inside—get back across the street now!"

More police vehicles arrived, some stopping at the entrance while others drove straight into the school.

At the very least, the entire road would have to be cordoned off.

Facing armed criminals, they couldn’t afford to hold back.

As the police began setting up barricades, Huang Zhirong's pale face twisted with helplessness. He grabbed Lin Mo's arm and practically dragged him back.

"Don't go over there, Lin Mo. We have to trust the officers." His voice trembled, as if trying to convince himself.

Lin Mo didn’t resist, but his spiritual sense remained locked onto the fleeing criminals.

They had circled around the back of the school and were now inside the building.

Meanwhile, the first wave of officers entered from the front.

Inside, students and teachers remained oblivious.

The invigilators were still collecting exam papers, while students who had finished packed up their belongings, chatting and laughing as they prepared to leave.

Upstairs, carefree chatter filled the air; downstairs, an unseen storm crept closer.

Lin Mo studied the criminals' faces—high cheekbones, flat noses, eerily similar features, as if stamped from the same mold.

Then one of them muttered under his breath, "Bù lòu dòng nǎi..."

Damn it!

Lin Mo nearly lost his composure. He couldn’t understand a word of that gibberish—no matter how sharp his spiritual sense was, it didn’t come with a built-in translator.

But judging by their accents and appearances, they were most likely from Southeast Asia.

By now, the six criminals had heard the commotion of students leaving their classrooms upstairs.

They glanced up, catching glimpses of youthful figures moving through the corridor gaps.

Exchanging glances, they grinned—a smile dripping with cruelty.

They muttered a few more words among themselves. Although Lin Mo couldn't understand them, he was now absolutely certain of their intentions.

In a crowd, not everyone would become a hostage.

Sometimes, dead students make for better bargaining chips.

Lin Mo took a deep breath.

Seeing this, Huang Zhirong beside him quickly tried to reassure him.

"Lin Mo, don't worry. The police are already here. Nothing will happen. Besides, those people might not be crazy enough to harm the flowers of our nation."

This was exactly what Lin Mo feared—they might hesitate to damage their own flowers, but others' flowers would be a different story.