Prelude to Sowing Discord

Lin Xiao stood before the simulated window in his office. The "weather" outside had been set to a gloomy dusk, grayish-purple clouds hanging low without a trace of starlight. He had just finished listening to Nightingale's report: the forged communication fragments had been "leaked" along the predetermined route, and all traces of the anonymous intelligence sent to S.H.I.E.L.D. had been cleared. Fletcher had left ten minutes ago to monitor the Radical Faction's initial reaction. Su Ying sat by the desk, wiping down a Glock pistol she had just inspected with a damp cloth. Its metal parts gleamed coldly beneath the desk lamp. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint sound of cloth against the barrel and the low hum of the air circulation system. Lin Xiao looked out at the false storm clouds and murmured, so softly it was almost inaudible, "The fire's already lit. Now we'll see how much deadwood it burns."

Time crawled by as they waited.

Two days passed.

The atmosphere inside the base began to turn strange. The change came not through announcements or orders, but through exchanged glances during chance encounters in the corridors, hushed conversations in the cafeteria, and the frequency with which certain office doors suddenly closed and opened again. An invisible tension filled the air, like the drop in pressure before a storm.

Late on the third night, Fletcher knocked on Lin Xiao's office door again.

He brought a chill from outside with him when he entered—he had clearly just returned from some contact point beyond the base. His breath briefly condensed into white mist in the warm room. His face looked somewhat pale under the desk lamp, but his eyes were bright with the sharpness peculiar to an intelligence operative who had caught hold of crucial information.

"Captain Lin." Fletcher shut the door and lowered his voice. "We have progress."

Su Ying set down the weapon maintenance tools in her hand, stood up, and went to the door. She tilted her head to listen for movement outside, then nodded to Lin Xiao—the corridor was empty. Lin Xiao gestured for Fletcher to sit, then walked to the small refrigerator and handed him a bottle of ice water.

Fletcher took the water but did not drink immediately. He unscrewed the cap, letting the cold vapor disperse into the air, then drew a deep breath and began his report.

"The conflict between the Radical Faction and the Resource Faction within Hydra has completely escalated." His pace was steady, but every word carried weight. "The trigger was a shipment of 'high-value experimental equipment' being transported from Eastern Europe to North Africa. I haven't obtained the specific inventory yet, but cross-verification through several channels confirms it includes at least three low-temperature plasma containment units, a complete gene sequencing and editing platform, and a batch of rare isotope materials. Conservatively estimated, their black-market value exceeds eighty million dollars."

Lin Xiao sat behind his desk, lightly tapping the tabletop with his fingers. The desk lamp cast shadows across his face, leaving it half-lit and half-dark.

"A dispute over allocation?" he asked.

"Yes." Fletcher nodded. "The equipment was originally allocated by headquarters to a newly built biological laboratory in North Africa, with the Resource Faction responsible for transport and handover. But the Radical Faction—mainly Dr. List's people—believed the equipment should be prioritized for their enhanced soldier project in the Middle East. They pressured the Resource Faction to redistribute at least forty percent of the shipment."

"The Resource Faction refused?"

"Not only did they refuse, they also delayed the transportation schedule." Fletcher took a sip of water. The cold liquid loosened him up slightly. "The Radical Faction accused the Resource Faction of lining their own pockets, deliberately delaying things so that some of the equipment could be 'lost in transit' and quietly sold off for profit. The Resource Faction fired back, saying the Radical Faction ignored real logistical risks and only wanted to seize credit."

Lin Xiao closed his eyes and rapidly sorted through the information in his mind.

The route from Eastern Europe to North Africa passed through several unstable regions. Hydra's influence was enormous, but it could not fully control that route. The equipment was valuable, bulky, and required specialized temperature-controlled transport—an inherently high-risk assignment. The Resource Faction's delay might indeed have been meant to avoid danger, but the Radical Faction's accusations were not entirely baseless either. Within Hydra, especially among the middle and lower ranks, it was common for people to exploit their positions to intercept and resell supplies.

This was an opportunity.

A perfect opportunity to create chaos and profit from it.

He opened his eyes and looked at Fletcher. "How far has the conflict gone?"

"They're at the stage of public accusations." Fletcher said, "Yesterday afternoon, a mid-level Radical Faction officer—Wolfgang Schmidt—slammed his hand on the table during an internal coordination meeting and called the Resource Faction 'parasites sucking blood from the organization's veins.' The person in charge on the Resource Faction's side, an old man named Erich Bowman, threw a cup on the spot. The meeting ended badly. Now both sides are filing reports with headquarters and attacking each other."

"What about the transport plan?"

"Put on hold." A nearly imperceptible sneer touched Fletcher's lips. "The convoy was originally scheduled to depart the day after tomorrow, but it's now been postponed indefinitely. The equipment is still piled up in a transit warehouse in Eastern Europe, with both factions assigning personnel to 'guard it together'—which really means watching each other so neither side can make a move."

Lin Xiao remained silent for several seconds.

Only the faint rush of air from the vent could be heard in the room. Su Ying had returned to the desk, but she did not sit down. She leaned against its edge with her arms folded, her gaze shifting between Lin Xiao and Fletcher. She could feel Lin Xiao thinking—the kind of focused thought that seemed almost loud enough for one to hear the gears turning.

"We need to do two things." Lin Xiao finally spoke, his voice calm and clear. "First, make the Radical Faction believe the Resource Faction is truly planning to embezzle the equipment. Second, make an outside force—preferably S.H.I.E.L.D.—notice the existence of this shipment and its transportation route."

Fletcher raised his brows. "Sow discord? And bring an outside force into it?"

"Yes." Lin Xiao rose and walked to the whiteboard on the wall, picking up a marker. "Sowing discord will intensify their internal conflict and make Hydra consume itself. Bringing in an outside force will create real losses, giving this infighting tangible consequences. And—" He drew a circle on the board. "If we handle it properly, we may be able to fish out some benefits from the chaos. Equipment, intelligence, perhaps even personnel."

Su Ying walked to the whiteboard and studied Lin Xiao's simple diagram. "How exactly?"

Lin Xiao turned to Fletcher. "That Radical Faction officer, Wolfgang Schmidt—what weaknesses does he have? Or rather, what channels can we use to get close to him?"

Fletcher thought for a moment. "Schmidt is a womanizer. He keeps a mistress in Berlin named Anna Kruger, a somewhat well-known gallery owner. Schmidt often launders money through her 'art transactions,' and he also frequently uses her social media account for less-sensitive communication—he thinks using his mistress's account is more 'discreet' than using the organization's encrypted channels."

"Stupid confidence," Su Ying commented.

"But it benefits us." Lin Xiao said, "Nightingale."

Nightingale, who had been sitting at a terminal in the corner, looked up and pushed up her glasses. "Here."

"I need you to forge several encrypted communication fragments." Lin Xiao returned to the whiteboard and began explaining in detail. "They need to look like Resource Faction personnel discussing how to intercept part of the equipment, sell it through black-market channels, and split the proceeds. The participants can be Erich Bowman and several of his deputies. The tone needs to feel real—hesitation, greed, mockery toward the Radical Faction, contempt for headquarters' oversight. The timestamps must be consistent, and use the encryption protocol commonly used by Hydra's Resource Faction, but leave behind a flaw that can be 'cracked.'"

Nightingale's fingers were already tapping over the keyboard as she recorded the requirements. "What specific points should the content include?"

Lin Xiao considered it for a moment. "First, discuss which parts of the equipment would be easiest to resell without being noticed. Second, arrange a black-market contact and trading location—set it in Istanbul, Turkey. It's where East meets West, and its black market is active. Third, complain that the Radical Faction's 'unreasonable troublemaking' is delaying their 'business.' Fourth, imply that they have already greased the wheels at a checkpoint along the transport route and can report part of the shipment as 'lost.' Finally, settle on profit shares and laundering channels."

"Understood." Nightingale nodded. "How close should the forgery be?"

"Seventy percent real, thirty percent false," Lin Xiao said. "The real parts must be based on your analysis of Hydra's internal communication habits. The false parts need to be tempting enough to make the Radical Faction furious at first sight. Once you're done, package these 'communication logs' and accidentally leak them through Anna Kruger's social media account. Make it look like she clicked the wrong link, downloaded malware, and had the records stolen and automatically uploaded to a public cloud storage space."

"And then let the Radical Faction discover them 'by chance'?" Fletcher asked.

"No." Lin Xiao shook his head. "That would be too deliberate. Find a reliable outside intelligence broker and anonymously send the cloud storage link to several mid-level Radical Faction officers who like playing little games. Let them discover it themselves in their eagerness to 'earn credit.' Remember, don't send it directly to Schmidt. Let him hear about it from his subordinates. That will be more believable."

A glimmer of admiration flashed through Fletcher's eyes. "Understood. What about the second part? Bringing S.H.I.E.L.D. in?"

Lin Xiao turned to Nightingale. "Anonymously send intelligence to a S.H.I.E.L.D. peripheral listening station. Keep the content vague but crucial: mention that Hydra has a shipment of high-value experimental equipment being transported from Eastern Europe to North Africa, with the route passing through the mountainous border region between Bulgaria and Turkey, sometime within the next week. Do not provide exact coordinates, and do not mention the equipment details. Just say that it is 'extremely valuable and may involve prohibited biotechnology.' Use a one-time relay and clean up the traces, but leave a small flaw that makes it look like the work of an amateur intelligence broker—S.H.I.E.L.D. will be more suspicious of intelligence that is too clean."

Nightingale recorded quickly. "When should it be sent?"

"Twelve hours after the Radical Faction discovers the 'communication logs,'" Lin Xiao said. "Give them time to get angry, investigate, and quarrel internally. Then, when S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intelligence comes in, they'll be even more convinced—the Resource Faction not only wants to pocket the equipment, but their infighting also caused the intelligence leak."

Su Ying looked at the plan gradually taking shape on the whiteboard and slowly nodded. "One move, three gains. Escalate internal conflict, bring in an outside attack, and perhaps profit from the chaos. But what are the risks?"

"The risk is," Lin Xiao said in a low voice as he set down the marker, "if the Radical Faction and Resource Faction suddenly calm down and jointly investigate the source of the leak, they may trace it back to us. If S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operation is too successful and they seize or destroy all the equipment, we lose our chance to profit. If S.H.I.E.L.D. fails and alerts the enemy, Hydra may tighten its guard, making our future operations more difficult."

"So precise timing is necessary," Fletcher said.

"Yes." Lin Xiao looked at Nightingale. "Can you do it?"

Nightingale took a deep breath and pushed up her glasses. Her eyes gleamed with concentration behind the lenses. "Forging the encrypted communications will take four hours. Infiltrating the social media account and setting up the cloud storage will take two. Sending the anonymous intelligence and clearing the traces will take one. Seven hours total. I can start now."

"Then start," Lin Xiao said. "Fletcher, prepare the channel through the outside intelligence broker. Su Ying, monitor the movements of Radical Faction personnel inside the base, especially Schmidt's people. Inform me immediately if anything unusual happens."

The three nodded and set to work.

Nightingale lowered her head over the terminal again, and the keyboard clicks became dense and rhythmic. Fletcher left the office without a sound, his footsteps fading down the corridor. After confirming that no one was outside, Su Ying returned to the desk, picked up her communicator, and began pulling up access to the base's internal surveillance system.

Lin Xiao sat back down in his chair and closed his eyes.

The plan had begun. Now all they needed was patience—and a little luck.

Time began to crawl by again.

Seven hours later.

Three in the morning.

Most areas of the base had fallen asleep. Only the footsteps of security patrols occasionally sounded from the far end of the corridors. Lin Xiao's office lights were still on. The desk lamp had grown warm from constant use, and the edge of its shade was slightly hot to the touch. The hum of the air circulation system seemed especially clear in the dead of night, like the breathing of some enormous creature.

Nightingale lifted her head from the terminal and rubbed her aching eyes. Her face looked pale in the glow of the screen, but her eyes were bright.

"It's done." Her voice was hoarse from prolonged silence. "The forged communications have been uploaded to the preset cloud storage. Anna Kruger's social media account 'accidentally' accessed the link twenty minutes ago, and the download records have been simulated. The anonymous intelligence was sent ten minutes ago to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s peripheral listening station on Crete, Greece. It bounced through three relays, the traces were cleared, but I left a faint IP trail leading to an internet café in Istanbul."

Lin Xiao opened his eyes. "What about the Radical Faction?"

"Fletcher sent word half an hour ago." Su Ying lowered her communicator. "The intelligence was delivered through two independent channels to two mid-level Radical Faction officers. One is Schmidt's deputy, and the other is the security supervisor at Dr. List's laboratory. Both have already 'discovered' the cloud storage link and are secretly downloading the files."

"Good." Lin Xiao stood and walked to the simulated window.

The "weather" outside was still set to a gloomy dusk. Yet deep in the virtual sky, dark red light seemed to flow faintly—that was the visual signal Nightingale had added to the system, symbolizing the start of the plan. Lin Xiao watched the dark red glow as though he could see flames igniting in the distance.

"Now we wait," he said.

Waiting was long.

But this time, it did not last long.

Nine the next morning.

Something was clearly wrong with the atmosphere in the base cafeteria.

At this hour, the cafeteria would normally be filled with clattering utensils, conversation, and the occasional laugh. But today, the noise was much lower. People sat in groups of two or three, eating with their heads lowered, though their eyes occasionally flicked toward several specific corners—where several key Radical Faction members sat with dark expressions, whispering fiercely among themselves.

Lin Xiao and Su Ying sat by a window, quietly eating breakfast. The rich scent of fried egg mixed with the bitterness of coffee in the air. Lin Xiao slowly cut open his egg with a fork. The yolk ran out and soaked the toast beneath it. He ate slowly, but his ears caught every sound around him.

"...Did you hear? Those bastards in the Resource Faction..."

"...Commander Schmidt was furious this morning..."

"...The equipment... is it true...?"

"...Headquarters may get involved..."

Fragmented information drifted into his ears. Lin Xiao showed no reaction and continued eating breakfast. Su Ying sat across from him, sipping coffee in small mouthfuls as her calm gaze swept over the cafeteria. She could feel the taut atmosphere, like a string pulled tight.

At ten o'clock, Fletcher appeared at the cafeteria entrance. He looked no different from usual, but when he approached Lin Xiao's table, a faint glimmer flashed in his eyes.

"Captain Lin," he said in a low voice, "conference room, half an hour from now. Schmidt has called in everyone from squad leaders upward. He says it's an 'emergency situation briefing.'"

Lin Xiao nodded and set down his fork.

What was coming had arrived.

The conference room was full.

The people seated along both sides of the long table were clearly divided into two camps. On the left sat the Radical Faction, led by Wolfgang Schmidt. Every face was livid, anger suppressed in their eyes. On the right sat the Resource Faction, led by Erich Bowman. Their expressions were stern, but their eyes held obvious wariness and dissatisfaction.

Lin Xiao and Fletcher sat toward the rear of the middle section, belonging to the "neutral" or "fringe" faction. Su Ying was not attending the meeting. She waited on standby in the corridor outside.

The air in the conference room was nearly frozen. The central air vent gave off a faint hiss, but the cold air it blew seemed unable to dispel the invisible heat. The projector on the wall was on, though its screen showed only blank blue. Someone coughed softly, and the sound was especially harsh in the silence.

Schmidt stood up.

He was a man around fifty, tall and powerfully built, with his hair shaved short enough that bluish roots showed through his scalp. His face was sharply defined, his jaw tense. His blade-like eyes swept across the room before settling on Bowman.

"Everyone," he said in a deep voice, each word landing like a hammer on the table, "I called you here today because something extremely serious and extremely vile has happened."

He pressed the remote in his hand.

The projection screen lit up with a screenshot of an encrypted communication record. The text was in German, but everyone in the room could understand it. It was the first page of the forged records—Resource Faction personnel discussing which equipment would be easiest to intercept and resell.

A wave of quiet gasps rose through the conference room.

Bowman's expression changed instantly. He shot to his feet. "Schmidt! What is the meaning of this? Where did you get that?"

"Where did I get it?" Schmidt sneered. "From your subordinates' encrypted channels! From your deputy Carl Müller's terminal! From records of you privately discussing how to embezzle organizational assets and break up eighty million dollars' worth of equipment to sell on the black market!"

"Nonsense!" Bowman's face flushed red. "It's forged! This is a setup!"

"Forged?" Schmidt pressed the remote again. More screenshots appeared on the screen—discussions of black-market contacts, complaints about the Radical Faction, plans to report equipment as 'lost' during transport... Every page bore the Resource Faction's internal encryption markings, with coherent timestamps and authentic wording. "Those encryption protocols are exclusive to your people! Those details could only be known within your faction! Tell me—who could forge something this perfect? Who?"

Bowman opened his mouth but could not speak. Sweat began beading on his forehead. He could feel every eye in the conference room fixed on him, filled with suspicion, anger, and malicious delight.

"This... someone must have hacked our system..." he tried to argue. "A hacker..."

"A hacker?" Schmidt's voice suddenly rose. "What kind of hacker can precisely infiltrate your encrypted channels, imitate every one of your speech habits, and know the exact equipment list and transport route? Bowman, don't treat everyone here like idiots!"

The atmosphere in the conference room exploded completely.

The Radical Faction members began pounding the table and shouting accusations. The Resource Faction members stood up to retort, their voices rising higher and higher. Arguments, curses, and pounding fists blended together like a chaotic symphony. Someone smashed a water cup onto the floor, the shattering glass sharp and piercing.

Lin Xiao sat quietly in his seat and watched it all.

His face showed no expression, but deep inside, a thread of cold satisfaction spread through him. The first step of the plan had succeeded. The flames had been lit, and they were burning fiercely.

The argument continued for twenty minutes, until Schmidt suddenly slammed his fist onto the table.

"Enough!" he roared. "I will report this directly to headquarters! The equipment transport plan is suspended until headquarters completes its investigation! All relevant personnel will have their permissions frozen! Meeting adjourned!"

He stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

The remaining people in the conference room looked at one another, then gradually left. Bowman stood where he was with a livid face. Several of his deputies clustered around him and murmured something, but Bowman only shook his head, his eyes filled with anger and... a trace of fear.

Lin Xiao and Fletcher were the last to leave the conference room.

In the corridor, Fletcher lowered his voice. "It went even more smoothly than expected. Schmidt completely swallowed the bait. He's convinced the Resource Faction is behind this. Bowman's side has been thrown into disarray. The transport plan will be delayed by at least a week."

Lin Xiao nodded. "What about S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Nightingale just sent word," Fletcher said. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s listening station on Crete has forwarded the anonymous intelligence. Their Greece branch has dispatched a reconnaissance team, and it's heading for the Bulgaria-Turkey border region. They're expected to reach the vicinity of the preset coordinates before noon tomorrow."

"Good," Lin Xiao said.

They returned to the office. Su Ying was already waiting inside, standing before the simulated window and watching the gloomy sky outside. Hearing the door open, she turned around with a questioning look on her face.

Lin Xiao walked to her side and looked out the window as well.

"The fire's already lit," he said softly, his voice carrying a complicated emotion—calm from a successful scheme, an assessment of the shifting situation, and a prediction of the chaos to come. "Now we'll see how much deadwood it burns."

Outside, the virtual storm clouds churned.

And in some corner of the real world, a storm born of him was gathering.