Late at night, the forensic lab's lights remained on.
Su Wanqing, frowning deeply and dressed in protective gear, was carefully analyzing the fibers left on the deceased man's backpack under the microscope. The man, who had failed to detonate the bomb in the subway and then committed suicide by biting down on a cyanide capsule, had left almost no valuable identification on his body. Just as she was about to conclude that all leads had been lost, a strange fluorescent powder subtly appeared between the fibers.
"This isn't ordinary industrial dust," she murmured under her breath.
Through a spectral scan, she was able to pinpoint the composition of the fluorescent substance: titanium-doped strontium oxide, an extremely rare reflective additive that had once been primarily used in special coatings for nocturnal bird-watching equipment.
She quickly pulled up database records to trace the procurement and usage of this substance in the city. Ultimately, a vague but crucial clue led her to an abandoned bird-watching station on the northern outskirts of the city.
"Are you sure?" Lu Chenzhou asked, looking at the analysis report she printed out, his gaze sharp.
Su Wanqing nodded. "That station was decommissioned by the government five years ago, but this type of fluorescent powder was only ever stockpiled in large quantities by them."
"Let's go." Lu Chenzhou issued the order without hesitation.
At 5 AM, before the sky had fully brightened, the task force silently arrived at their target. The bird-watching station had been overrun by wild grass and vines, its iron gate broken and rusted, looking like a forgotten relic of time. However, when they entered the main building, a faint electrical hum from underground immediately heightened their alertness.
"There's an operational area underground," a technician reported via infrared thermal imaging. "It may be a modified space."
Lu Chenzhou led the way down the stairs. The narrow staircase was covered in dust and spider webs. But as they neared the bottom, a strange, burnt odor filled the air, faintly mixed with the smell of ozone from overheated machinery.
"They've been operating something here," Su Wanqing frowned.
In the basement, the dim lights revealed rows of metal shelves cluttered with circuit boards, miniature mechanical components, and drone wreckage. In one corner, several specially-structured birdcages were stacked, and on a table, there was a file folder with three red characters written on the cover—"Migratory Bird Plan."
They cautiously opened the file, and the first page revealed a shocking sketch—hundreds of migratory birds such as the grey plover, red-billed gull, and bar-headed goose had been converted into miniature bomb carriers. Lightweight remote-controlled detonators were implanted in their bodies, with positioning chips and biological control modules attached beneath their tail feathers.
"Oh my God…" a young officer gasped.
"If these birds fly into the city's airspace during peak migration season, the consequences of detonation would be unimaginable," Su Wanqing's voice trembled.
Even more terrifying, they discovered experimental logs for the "Migratory Bird Plan" on the computer in the corner—secret flight tests had been conducted multiple times over the past two months. On one occasion, a bird group had flown quietly over the northern part of the city at night without detection, causing no harm only due to the lack of attention.
"According to the records, their target date is—next Friday," Lu Chenzhou pointed to a line in the file. "In alignment with the return of migratory birds, the plan will be executed before dawn."
"They plan to use the natural migration pattern and make the explosion appear as a 'natural disaster,' completely destroying social trust," Su Wanqing whispered, "It's too ruthless."
Just as they prepared to relocate the evidence, the technician suddenly sounded an alarm. "Bad news! The system is being remotely destroyed!"
Lu Chenzhou shouted, "Cut the power! Pull the main control power supply!"
It was too late. Every computer screen simultaneously flashed a line of text:
[The migratory birds have been released, unable to return to the cage.]
The system immediately shut down, and with a sharp explosion, the main hard disk controller was detonated, destroying all data.
"They've already released part of the bird group," Su Wanqing's face went pale.
"We need to contact the National Wildlife Protection Bureau and the Air Force's defense control department immediately," Lu Chenzhou ordered swiftly. "Lock down the migration route, issue airspace alerts, and activate the biological capture control plan!"
That afternoon, the City Emergency Management Center convened an emergency joint meeting. Bird migration points across the city were heavily monitored, and the police, together with drone units, set up an aerial tracking network to gradually intercept abnormal bird groups.
Meanwhile, Lu Chenzhou and Su Wanqing were forced into another life-and-death race—to stop a potential disaster that could upend the city's fate before the migratory birds reached the city's airspace.
They knew all too well—this was not a typical cop-versus-criminal confrontation. This was a new kind of terror war combining technology and cold-bloodedness.
War had never truly been far away.