Let Her Go, I'll Do It!

The Guardian stealthily made its way along the bumpy, rutted roads of the South Harbor District.

Two kilometers from the old cannery, Sing Sing turned the steering wheel and drove into Wasteland piled with scrap steel.

"Disguise mode activated!"

The paint on the car body flowed, and the rust color gradually spread all over the vehicle, blending in with the surrounding scrap metal.

Unless you get right up there and press your face against the car window, you can't tell the difference between high-tech and cheap, low-quality junk.

"Hey, your camouflage is pretty good, bro!" Sing Sing patted the steering wheel. "How about I get Lao Ha to get me a few sets too?"

"Mr. Zhou, this technology is Mr. Hudson's personal patent. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited and constitutes infringement. In North America, such actions are subject to hefty fines and legal warnings."

Sing Sing pulled a hamburger from the paper bag in the passenger seat. He had just bought it at the gas station convenience store for eight dollars and fifty cents.

He had originally planned to buy two to fill his stomach, but when he reached into his pocket, he remembered that his fifty-yuan deposit was still with the receptionist, so he resisted and only bought one.

Business trips are tough for working people, so cherish every bite.

"Patents? Patents are easy to obtain; just broaden your perspective."

He chewed indistinctly, "Our 749 Bureau in China loves making friends with patent holders. I'll treat Old Ha to a good meal later, beer and barbecue, please."

"Enjoying skewers and singing songs, things will naturally fall into place! Nothing is impossible for a willing heart."

"Typical China drinking etiquette has been detected. Please note that Mr. Hudson is allergic to alcohol."

"Then switch to Nutrition Express! The key is interpersonal relationships; what does an AI like you know about that?!"

Sing Sing- hung climbed out of the car and onto the roof, like a lurking Old Six, and held up binoculars to his eyes.

The factory gate was completely dark; they didn't even bother to turn on a single light.

At the foot of the wall, three skinny stray dogs were digging for food in the garbage heap with their rear ends sticking out.

"Are you sure this is the target location? It doesn't even look as impressive as the back gate of our bureau's canteen. There's not even a security booth. Is Kellman Industries about to go bankrupt?"

According to publicly available tax records, Kellman Industries' revenue last quarter was $320 million. Their failure to fix the porch light is most likely a cover-up, not an indication of inability to pay the electricity bill.

Sing Sing tapped on the roof of the car while observing the terrain.

"Those two plasma pulse cannons you mentioned earlier, if I get into a fight later, could you provide long-range fire support for me?"

"The requirements aren't high; just a couple of shots to make a sound will suffice."

"Mr. Zhou, weapon systems are prohibited from being used in non-combat situations. Furthermore, your request constitutes an attempt to provoke armed conflict, which violates the defensive principles established by Mr. Hudson."

"Stubborn!"

Sing Sing cursed angrily, "Hoping for you is a pipe dream! Sigh, in the end, you still have to rely on yourself."

According to the original plan, he intended to sneak in himself in the middle of the night when it was dark and windy.

He had already planned three routes:

Climbing trees and scaling walls counts as one, transforming into a Ninja Turtle and crawling through sewers counts as another, and if all else fails, transforming into a suit-wearing thug and forcing your way through the front door counts as yet another.

That's right, Director Zhou's style of doing things is simple and straightforward; the greatest truths are the simplest.

Do you know where the "Mang" in Mang Village comes from?

I scanned the area again with the binoculars; the place looked unremarkable and was unusually quiet.

But something unusual must be going on. At this hour, a proper cannery should at least have two old men on night duty squatting at the entrance smoking, chatting, and bragging, right?

Sing Sing glanced down at his watch; it was 9:15.

It's still early before he plans to make his move; he should just lay low and eat his fill for now.

Sitting on the roof of the car, keeping a close eye on the situation across the street Director Zhou took a sip of his iced cola.

The crackling sound of ice cubes colliding in the glass seemed to have accidentally triggered a cutscene from the main storyline of a game.

The tightly closed warehouse roller shutter door suddenly opened a crack with a clicking sound.

Before the roller shutter was fully open, a stumbling figure tumbled out through the gap, then rolled to its feet and ran wildly into the night.

The three stray dogs that were tearing at each other for food under the wall bristled and fled in terror, tails between their legs, whimpering.

Before the woman could run too far...

Five fully armed men emerged from the crack in the door, their chests bearing the Kellman Industries logo.

Each person carried a submachine gun with a silencer, and also wore night vision goggles on their heads.

"Hey, an action movie's starting?"

Sing Sing got interested.

"Guardian, can you get through to the audio from the scene? Let me hear what these foreigners are babbling about."

"Directional sound pickup is enabled, audio synchronization in progress..."

Instantly, I heard clear breathing and footsteps.

Sing Sing's eyes lit up, and he patted the car roof. "Wow? You're really good! I'm really growing to like you more and more. How about seriously considering switching jobs and coming back to China exam? Guaranteed placement in an underground parking garage!"

"Please focus on the situation ahead, Mr. Zhou." The Guardian refused to answer this pie-in-the-sky question.

The man on the field panicked and ran headlong into a dead end between two high walls, with nowhere to retreat.

The leader of the pursuit team raised his hand and gestured, and the five men spread out in a fan shape, slowly chasing after the pursuers.

Just then, the searchlights above the cannery suddenly turned on and shone towards the encirclement.

Through the telescope, Sing Sing finally saw the person's face clearly.

It was a woman; her left arm hung limply at her side, blood dripping from her sleeve.

But!

Director Zhou keenly noticed a detail: the wound on the woman's arm was slowly healing!

Another Mutants with healing abilities?

Is North America having a massive clearance sale of Healing Factor? How come I keep running into Old Jin's colleagues everywhere I go?

The captain drew his pistol and hovered the muzzle between the woman's knees and head.

"Wow, wow, wow..." The captain's voice was laced with mockery, "Why aren't you running anymore, sweetheart?"

The captain stared at her with a ferocious expression, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek.

"The boss wants you alive, he didn't say you can't be missing limbs! We'll break both your legs first, and when we drag you back to the basement to dissect you, you'll still be lying down."

Sing Sing narrowed his eyes.

Slicing, and slicing again.

This bunch of scum, they're the same everywhere they go.

On the field, the woman neither cried nor begged for mercy. Instead, she lowered her center of gravity, drew two short knives, and charged head-on at the firepower net.

Sing Sing jumped out of the car and threw the binoculars onto the passenger seat.

"High-intensity armed conflict detected ahead. We recommend you call your local 911 emergency number or contact the Seattle Police Department."

"Call the police? Are you missing a brainstem? Oh, you don't have a brainstem."

Sing Sing retorted irritably:

"By the time those lazy United States cops finished buying their donuts and leisurely drove up in their patrol car, the donuts were already being sliced and boxed!"

"Let me teach you another China truth: When you see injustice, draw your sword to help. Watch closely, this is the correct way to be a secret agent!"

After saying that, Director Zhou ran straight towards the battlefield, so fast that he only left a blur in the moonlight.

Inside the factory, the heavily wounded woman nearly dropped her weapon.

But she kept her eyes fixed on the men in front of her, gritting her teeth, preparing for one last struggle.

The captain sneered, his finger poised to pull the trigger.