Then, the aircraft changed its mode of flight, switching from propeller-driven to jet-powered.
Its speed instantly increased, like a meteor streaking across the night sky, quickly vanishing into the distance.
Obadiah was securely strapped into a seat inside the aircraft. All he could do was helplessly watch the scenery outside the window blur past.
His heart was filled with fear and confusion. He had no idea where these people were taking him or what they intended to do to him.
What was more, they had brazenly broken him out of prison and slaughtered the Prison Guards.
What unsettled him even more was that these people clearly knew the U.S. military's radar systems and heat-source detection technology inside out. Otherwise, the thermal trail left in the night sky by such a massive aircraft should have long drawn the military's attention, gotten it locked onto by the Patriot missile system, or intercepted and questioned by fighter jets.
But that was not the case. The aircraft slipped silently through the night sky like a ghost, as though it possessed some era-defying stealth technology that rendered all possible tracking and surveillance futile.
The aircraft flew through the air for a long time before finally stopping before a desolate mountain peak.
The peak towered into the clouds, its summit blanketed in snow like a silver pyramid.
A dense forest surrounded it, the trees tall and thick, as though concealing countless secrets.
The SOLDIERs roughly dragged Obadiah out of the aircraft. The moment his feet touched the ground, he felt a piercing chill—the biting cold wind from the mountaintop.
They set off toward the summit along a rugged, winding path. The trail was buried beneath thick snow, making every step extraordinarily difficult.
Obadiah was wedged between them, his heart filled with unease and despair. He knew