It Is Beautiful

Infantry fighting vehicles brought up the rear, armed helicopters swept overhead, and gunners, armed with Gatling guns and anti-aircraft machine guns, nervously watched their surroundings as a convoy of mercenaries from France sped by.

"I swear! I swear I know nothing!"

The four SUVs in the middle were holding the prisoners. High-value targets were separated into different vehicles for rapid interrogation. Time seemed to be very tight, and there was no time to take them to the detention center for further interrogation.

"I swear I've told you everything I know! I'm just a photographer! A photographer for BCC! Please don't kill me! Please let me go! My company will pay the ransom!"

The screams of photographer Cole echoed throughout the car.

He wasn't even beaten, nor was he excessively intimidated.

"Boss, you heard it all. Those two United Kingdom just happened to be there."

The bearded mercenary in charge of the interrogation tore off his turban and threw it aside, then turned the live video communication device towards his face; on the other end of the video was Little Bob Buruo.

In the video, Little Bob's face is gloomy and he can't suppress his agitation. Clearly, the France is not happy; he has received news that the entire force that was chasing King Comora has been wiped out.

He said coldly, "And the other United Kingdom?"

The mercenary shrugged. "She confessed faster, but she didn't know anything—a young, pretty white girl in the hands of a bunch of frenzied, savage mercenaries would scare herself silly even before we could do anything."

Little Bob said coldly, "Even if there's enough time, you can't do anything. Listen, no white people, I repeat, no white people. She's United Kingdom, and I don't want any trouble when it comes to returning her! I certainly don't want those roast beef guys finding fault with me on this!"

Roast beef, or rosbif, is a derogatory term used by the France to refer to the United Kingdom. The United Kingdom were probably the ones who started it, calling the France "frogmen."

--I know what you're trying to say, so shut up!

In short, there are many explanations for the origin of this name. The most widely circulated explanation is that the ingredients in France cuisine are somewhat similar to those in Guangdong. During the Anglo-French War, the two sides gave each other nicknames to insult each other. The United Kingdom thought the France eating frog legs was a weird habit, so they called them "frog eaters," which gradually became "frogmen." So the France responded by calling them roast beef.

That's a bit strange, since the United Kingdom clearly make fries and fish head cakes.

This custom of giving people mocking nicknames based on their eating habits is popular in Europe. For example, Germany are called "Kraut," which means sauerkraut.

Of course, this seems very strange to China people; who would randomly ask someone to make a pancake with scallions?

The Germany retaliated against the France, and of course, the German people are generally tough and straightforward, often resorting to physical violence. The most famous nickname they gave the France was "six-weeker," meaning "those who resist for six weeks."

Of course, all of these nicknames are utterly ridiculous to the Wales.

"Okay, don't worry, boss, our men know what's good for them."

"Good to know. The situation is critical now, so all of you better keep your penises in check!" Little Bob said grimly. "Was it just a coincidence that they were rescued by those Asia mercenaries?"

"Yes, boss, I think so."

"Then let's ask them what they know!"

Those Asian colleagues had received highly professional anti-torture training, and after the France conducted initial questioning, they found it very difficult to get them to talk and cooperate in a short period of time.

It's not that we can't get an answer.

In fact, human physiology dictates that this creature simply cannot withstand certain forms of torture, not even requiring bloodshed or physical contact. The simplest method is to tie the person up, put on a loud speaker, and turn on a computer-controlled light. Place the person there, and every few seconds, the light will flash and vibrate. After 48 hours, they will be able to answer almost any question. As long as you let them sleep, they will do anything and say anything.

There are many such measures, but they all take time.

Realizing this, Little Bob desperately needed information, so he could only try to find out something by subtly probing two weak United Kingdom civilians.

"I'll talk! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"

Once questioned, Cole spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube. He wasn't a tough guy, and he had no vested interests; he was just a passing photographer. Why should he keep a secret for a few complete China? With that thought in mind, he told everything.

But... how should I put it?

What he confessed in full was the "facts" that he "understood".

"They are all China special forces soldiers!"

Cole shouted, "They're here to rescue the China people imprisoned in the palace! They're providing cover, and the super-powered warrior who's rescuing them is that man's son!"

Before he could finish speaking, Little Bob changed drastically. "What did you say?"

"It's true! It's all true! I filmed it! Compare the two of them! They're definitely father and son!" he shouted. "When I was with them, I overheard their captain talking to someone. I understand a little Chinese. The China man who gave orders to these special forces soldiers was surnamed Wang. He was their superior, because this person called him 'boss'!"

They're incredibly outspoken, and incredibly credible.

Little Bob's face was grim and his expression shifted dramatically.

China.

Special forces soldiers.

Their army.

In other words...

Has the China already intervened?

Had they heard something? Or perhaps they were already prepared?

It must be said that the decades-long promotion of the "China threat" theory has led even Westerners to believe it. When they subconsciously regard this Eastern country as a huge threat, all related variables and coincidences are attributed to deliberate and intentional actions.

"Boss..." the France in charge of the interrogation asked, "Is China involved too?"

There was some unease in his tone.

The mercenary business is a gray area, operating on the line between light and darkness. They seem unscrupulous, but they follow the rules more strictly than anyone else, only their rules differ from those of ordinary people.

The first rule is: don't go against the Five Constant Virtues.

Little Bob's expression went beyond just looking bad.

Kang Jinzhu's... son?

He couldn't help but recall the joke from last night. He hadn't expected it to come true; Kang Jinzhu's son had actually come to Africa, and moreover, he had destroyed the royal palace, slaughtered half of Moyani, and the murders and disappearances at the King's Mausoleum, the Comora military camp, and numerous outposts were all definitely related to him...

He also thought about the reports from his subordinates during the Moyani ambush and Kang De's performance. He even went on that damned Twitter and saw those increasingly viral tweets: damn Humvee, damn China. He became more and more certain that he was facing an enemy beyond human comprehension...

--So he has a China military background! No wonder!

No wonder he possesses superhuman strength, no wonder he has battalion-level firepower, no wonder he was able to arrive in Comora so quickly at this time—it turns out China had been planning this for a long time!

Little Bob's mind raced.

Whether Kang Jinzhu's son is a genetically modified soldier secretly trained by the China government or obtained his power from some China relic is no longer important.

Importantly, an enemy with superhuman strength has set his sights on him.

He didn't believe that Kang Jinzhu's son would stop after rescuing his father and act as if nothing had happened.

Whether it's hatred or the secrets of the ruins... he will come looking for me!

Since the China government has already shown the shadow of a dragon, it is both morally and logically obligated to report to its own government in order to summon intervention and support from the Fr*nce governments.

But...

This means that at least two of the five permanent members of the Security Council will directly intervene in Comora and Gambia. The permanent members will naturally begin a terrifying projection of power. With this surge in power density, the Buruo Family Security Company may no longer be able to get what it wants.

Thinking of his father's worsening old injuries, Little Bob gritted his teeth in silence.

I've given everything, gone all out, just to obtain what's inside the ruins and prolong my father's life... If this goal cannot be achieved, then everything else is meaningless!

So.

Let's have a showdown.

Thinking of this, a ruthless glint flashed across Little Bob's brow.

He was at the airport, speaking to his subordinates in a makeshift information command center. In front of him, electronic screens were transmitting various video images in real time, all from the convoy: helicopter views, views from the front vehicles, and views from the rear vehicles. Each vehicle had at least two cameras.

Record every single second of the image for me.

He gave this order.

Perhaps you are very powerful, Kang De. I remember your name is Kang De, the son of Kang Jinzhu.

But those Twitter gave me a wake-up call.

The world has changed, revealing a sliver of Shadow beneath the sunlight, showing aspects that remain unknown to the world. You are a minority, a secret, something governments around the world want to cover up and seize.

You have the power to do many things you couldn't do before. You used to be able to sit at home worrying and crying, but now you can come to Africa and rescue your father with your own hands. You are very strong, and you believe that no one can stop you. Of course, you will not abandon your teammates.

So, what kind of force would you need to demonstrate to destroy a convoy of armed helicopters, infantry fighting vehicles, three armed pickup trucks, and five armored SUVs and rescue your friends?

Show yourselves; these are all bait.

If you bite the hook.

I will let the whole world see what you look like.

He said, "Now order the convoy to change direction. How far are you from Moyani?"

The other person glanced at the location map. "About five kilometers, sir. The outline of the city is already visible."

"Go that way -- did you get this photographer friend's Twitter account?"

The mercenary smiled. "Of course, he's very generous. I've already sent it to your phone."

"That's good." Little Bob gave a gloomy smile. "Maybe we can upload some more sensational stuff, things that our government, our people, our news all like to see."

The mercenary in charge of the interrogation suddenly shuddered. Perhaps it was because of the screen, but he felt that the boss's behavior was a bit off... very off.

Without realizing it, even Little Bob himself was unaware that his smile had become somewhat distorted.

He held the precious, extremely important briefcase in his hand, even handcuffing it to his wrist, never letting it separate. He twisted his neck, scratched his face with his other hand, then took a few steps back, took out his phone, and dialed a number. "Thomas."

Thomas is in charge of Moyani's defense and security. He previously oversaw patrols in the city from the police station and urgently arranged for Little Bob to be in the car. They are still in the city.

"Boss, I'm here."

Little Bob said in a low voice, "Get ready, Thomas, and wait for my command."

"Yes, boss, it's ready. I'm just confirming with you one last time, where are we aiming our fire? One last confirmation, what's the target?" Thomas lowered his voice, "The France Embassy?"

"Of course... no."

In the instant he turned around, Little Bob's smile, hidden in the Shadow beneath the bright LCD lights of the electronics room, became distorted, bizarre, and terrifying.

He said, "The entire city, of course, with napalm and white phosphorus bombs."

Thomas's voice trembled on the other end of the phone. "Boss!? This..."

What are you afraid of?

Little Bob's tone changed; his voice became high-pitched, sounding eerie and terrifying. He chuckled coldly and said, "The murderer isn't us, so what are you afraid of? Do you think our white country, our white government, our white people, our white media would clarify or explain for a China person?"

Thomas murmured, "But..."

"Obey orders, Thomas. This is just a bunch of black people, and on the other side is me, my father, you, your family... You know which one to choose."

At this point, Little Bob's tone became somewhat light, like a devil's murmur, a devil's whisper. He slowly said, "You've seen it too. It's beautiful, isn't it? After it succeeds, we'll all have a share..."

After these words were spoken, there was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

Then, Thomas's voice, as if in a dream, rang out.

"Yes, boss, it's beautiful, I understand..."

Little Bob nodded contentedly.

He gazed at the briefcase that was attached to his hand. It was so close, and his burning gaze seemed to pierce through the sealed lead box. Or rather, even the nuclear and biological material-grade protective case couldn't resist the allure of this thing, like the most beautiful woman, constantly stirring his heartstrings.

"It's talking to me, it's getting more and more passionate. Ever since we dug it out, it's become more and more beautiful, more and more passionate. It's yearning, and sometimes it goes away. I can feel it. When the palace collapsed, it bloomed like a flower. It protected me, and then it went away again, and now it's close again... Just like a lovely little girl, Thomas, isn't it?"

"Yes... yes..."

Little Bob took a step, slowly pushed open the door and left, murmuring softly, "I want to see it again, just a few more times, just one more time..."

What he didn't notice was that the intelligence officers in the electronics room, who should have been staring at their respective screens exchanging battlefield information, all turned their heads and watched his departing figure, their eyes blank like those of dolls.

They didn't come to their senses for a moment, then looked at each other, puzzled, wondering what had happened.

"I've spotted the convoy; it's most likely them."

Kang De gazed at the convoy speeding away in the distance, pressed his earpiece, and said, "I'm about to get started. It'll probably take about ten minutes. Drive slowly. After we're done, we still need to deal with the body, so my dad doesn't see us and nag me again."

A few seconds later, Horus's voice rang out. "Understood."

Kang De flashed back into the White Mist World, reappearing moments later with several Javelin in his hand. He pointed, and the Himo's Eagle flapped its wings and soared into the sky, flying straight into the clouds, preparing for a high-altitude dive. Just then, the voice of Iron Son rang out again in the earpiece. "Father."

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

Horus said, "Your father, he's shouting and yelling at the person controlling this car. He says he has something important to tell you, you..."

Kang De frowned and said, "Here we go again... Let's intercept them first."

"Father, I think it would be better to listen to it first?"

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PS1: First update, 4500 words. There will be a second update. You guys go to sleep now.