Variables Outside the Script

The SUV sped along the bumpy mountain road, its headlights slicing through the heavy night.

Lin Xiao sat in the passenger seat, the glow of the tactical tablet reflecting off his face. Data streamed continuously across the screen—Nightingale was pulling footage from nearby surveillance cameras. From the back seat came Anna's steady voice. "Blood pressure stable, breathing normal, wound treatment complete. Hairline fractures in the sixth and seventh ribs on the left side, a three-centimeter-deep flesh wound, blood loss held below three hundred milliliters, no internal organ damage."

Su Ying lay in the back seat with her eyes half-open. The anesthetic was wearing off, and pain began spreading from her left ribs, as though red-hot wire were threading through the gaps in her bones. She could smell the pungent disinfectant mingling with blood and the leather scent inside the car. Anna's hands were steady as she wrapped the wound in sterile gauze, the sound of tape tearing especially clear in the quiet cabin.

"That man," Su Ying said hoarsely, looking at the back of Lin Xiao's head. "He recorded a video."

"I know." Lin Xiao did not turn around, his fingers sliding swiftly across the tablet. "Nightingale is tracking his vehicle."

The convoy left the mountains and entered an abandoned county road. Pine forests stretched along both sides, moonlight filtering through the branches and scattering mottled shadows across the ground. Lin Xiao pulled up a satellite map of the area around the logging yard and marked the possible escape routes of that SUV—three forks in the road: one leading to the Slovakian border checkpoint, one toward Poland, and the last winding deep into the Carpathian Mountains.

Wolf's voice came through the communicator. "Boss, that vehicle didn't take the main road. It turned onto a dirt track through the woods three kilometers southeast of the logging yard. We lost it."

"What's at the end of that track?"

"The map shows an abandoned mine that was shut down in the seventies. But satellite images show signs of recent vehicle activity there."

Lin Xiao zoomed in on the area. An abandoned mine, complicated terrain, underground tunnels crisscrossing everywhere—it was an ideal hiding place. If that man knew the terrain, he could easily shake his pursuers there before leaving by another route.

"Recall the outer teams," Lin Xiao said. "Don't go in deep. Nightingale, pull every road camera within five kilometers of the mine, from three this afternoon until now."

"Understood."

The convoy continued onward. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Continental Hotel's No. 3 backup safehouse—an abandoned sanatorium hidden deep in the forest. The main building had a Soviet-style design from the 1960s, its gray-white concrete walls covered in vines. Most windows were shattered, and only two rooms on the third floor of the main building glowed faintly.

The vehicles drove into the courtyard and stopped in the garage behind the main building. The garage door slowly lowered, sealing out the outside light and sound.

Lin Xiao pushed open the door, and frigid air hit his face. The sanatorium reeked of damp mold and dust, while their footsteps echoed through the corridor. Anna and another team member helped Su Ying toward the medical room, with Lin Xiao following behind, his eyes sweeping the surroundings—the propaganda posters still remaining on both corridor walls depicted people wearing bright smiles, creating an eerie contrast with the current tension.

The medical room was at the end of the third floor. It was large and had once been the sanatorium's physiotherapy room. Now, it was filled with medical equipment: an operating table, monitors, medicine cabinets, sterilization equipment. The walls had been repainted, the floor covered in non-slip rubber, and the air smelled strongly of disinfectant.

Anna had Su Ying lie on the operating table and began connecting the monitoring equipment. Lines pulsed steadily across the electrocardiogram screen, while the blood pressure cuff made a faint inflating sound. Lin Xiao stood at the door, watching Anna skillfully cut open the left side of Su Ying's combat suit to reveal the wound beneath.

The wound looked far more serious than it really was.

Special makeup materials had simulated the appearance of torn skin. Dark-red stains left by burst blood capsules stretched from her shoulder to her waist. When the gauze was peeled away, a three-centimeter incision lay beneath—it was one Anna had made in the car to create a convincing wound. The edges were neat, and it was just deep enough to reach the surface of the rib without damaging the periosteum. The rib fractures were real; Su Ying had caused them when she deliberately struck the protruding stone beneath her with the left side of her body as she fell.

"Does it need stitches?" Su Ying asked calmly.

"A few," Anna said, pulling on sterile gloves and opening the suture kit. "But you won't need anesthetic. Bear with it."

The instant the needle pierced her skin, Su Ying's breathing stopped for a second. She could feel the thread tugging through flesh, like tiny hooks moving beneath her skin. The pain was sharp, but bearable. She turned her head toward Lin Xiao at the doorway.

Lin Xiao was looking at her too.

Their gazes met in the air. Su Ying saw no worry in Lin Xiao's eyes—he knew this was part of the plan—but there was something deeper there, a taut vigilance, like a bow drawn to its limit. He was thinking, calculating, assessing the variable brought by that anomalous figure.

"That man," Su Ying said, breaking the silence. "He was wearing a S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical vest."

"A model issued last year," Lin Xiao said. "But there was no S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia on it, nor any unit markings."

"Maybe he removed them deliberately."

"Or the vest was a trophy, or something he bought on the black market."

Anna finished the final stitch, cut the thread, and applied a sterile dressing. She stepped back and removed her gloves. "Wound treatment complete. The rib fractures require three to four weeks of rest. No strenuous activity or lifting during that period. I'll prescribe painkillers and anti-inflammatory medication."

Su Ying sat up slowly and carefully. Pain in her left ribs intensified with the movement, as though a blunt object were repeatedly striking her bones. She drew a deep breath, frowning at the pain.

Lin Xiao entered the medical room, took a bottle of water from the medicine cabinet, unscrewed it, and handed it to Su Ying. His fingers brushed hers, cold to the touch.

"Thanks." Su Ying took the water and drank a small sip.

"The plan worked," Lin Xiao said. "Fletcher has already received word and is preparing to submit the report to headquarters. Your 'injury' will be recorded as 'heroically wounded while carrying out a mission to protect the commander.' Headquarters will temporarily shelve its review of your identity because of that."

"But that man recorded a video."

"Yes."

Lin Xiao walked to the window and pulled open the heavy curtains. Beyond it lay a pitch-black forest, with scattered lights in the distance—the village at the foot of the mountain. Moonlight fell over the treetops, coating the entire forest in a silvery-gray glow. His fingers tapped lightly on the windowsill in a slow rhythm, as though calculating something.

"There are only three possible reasons he recorded that video," Lin Xiao said. "First, he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. pursuer, recording evidence of your injury to report back. But if that were the case, he should have joined the fight or called for backup instead of leaving alone. Second, he was an 'inspector' from Hydra headquarters, ordered to verify whether this operation was genuine. But Fletcher said headquarters had shown no special interest in this 'external attack,' so it was unlikely they'd send an inspector. Third..."

He paused.

"Third, he belongs to a third-party force, and he recorded the video for some other purpose."

"What purpose?"

"I don't know." Lin Xiao turned around, his back to the window, his face hidden in shadow. "Maybe to confirm your identity. Maybe to collect data on Continental Hotel's operational methods. Or maybe for something else. But one thing is certain—he knew this operation was staged."

Su Ying's heart suddenly skipped a beat.

"He knew?"

"The timing was too precise," Lin Xiao said. "At the height of the fight, he didn't participate. Instead, he hid to one side and waited specifically until the moment you were 'injured' and fell before raising his camera. That means he knew in advance that you would be injured, or at the very least, he knew this fight had a 'script.'"

The medical room fell silent. The monitor beeped steadily, while wind rustled through the treetops outside. Anna packed up the medical supplies, left the room, and gently closed the door behind her.

Only Lin Xiao and Su Ying remained in the room.

"If he knows it was staged," Su Ying said softly, "then our plan..."

"The plan is still effective," Lin Xiao cut in. "Because headquarters doesn't know he knows. As long as the video doesn't spread, and headquarters believes your injury is real, your identity crisis can be resolved. The issue is who that man is, why he recorded the video, and what he intends to do with it."

He walked to the operating table, picked up the medical record Anna had left behind, and flipped through it. The handwriting was neat, the data detailed, fully matching the format of a legitimate hospital record. Fletcher would scan and upload those records to headquarters' medical system, where they would combine with the battle report to form a complete chain of evidence.

But that man's video was like a ticking bomb.

Lin Xiao set down the medical record, pulled an encrypted communicator from his pocket, and switched to Nightingale's channel.

"How's the analysis going?"

"Still tracking," Nightingale's voice came through the communicator, keyboard clacking in the background. "The SUV disappeared for twenty minutes after entering the mine area, then exited from another route and took the highway toward Hungary. I pulled footage from three gas stations along the way and got a clear shot of the driver's face."

"Send it over."

A photo popped up on the tablet screen.

It had been taken by a surveillance camera outside a gas station convenience store. The quality was mediocre, but the face was visible. He was a white man in his thirties, with short dark-brown hair, a square face, stubble on his chin, small eyes, and a cold gaze. He wore an ordinary black jacket over a dark-gray tactical vest—the very one from the logging yard.

Lin Xiao enlarged the photo and studied it closely.

There was a scar on the man's neck, extending from behind his ear to his collarbone, likely from a knife wound. Part of a tattoo was visible on the back of his left hand, though his sleeve obscured most of it, leaving only several black lines exposed. His stance looked relaxed, but the muscle lines in his shoulders were taut—the mark of long-term training.

"Any results from facial recognition?" Lin Xiao asked.

"No matches in the databases," Nightingale said. "I checked S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, Interpol, and wanted lists from intelligence agencies around the world. Nothing. Either he's new, or he's using a false identity."

"What about the vehicle?"

"The license plate was fake, and the VIN had been ground off. But based on the model and modifications, I found a black-market transaction record from Budapest three months ago. The buyer was a Russian named Mikhail Petrov, but that identity is fake too."

Lin Xiao stared at the man in the photo.

A stranger. A false identity. S.H.I.E.L.D. equipment. Perfectly timed observation. He recorded the video and left alone.

Everything pointed to one conclusion: this man had not acted on a whim. He had come prepared. He knew there would be a fight at the logging yard, knew Su Ying would be injured, so he had set up an ambush in advance, recorded the crucial evidence, and slipped away.

What was his goal?

Blackmail? Coercion? Or...

A new alert sounded through the communicator. It was Fletcher.

Lin Xiao switched to another channel.

"Lin," Fletcher said, sounding weary. "Headquarters just received your preliminary battle report. They're satisfied, especially with the part about Su Ying being 'heroically wounded while protecting the commander.' Has the medical report been uploaded?"

"Anna is compiling it. It'll be uploaded within the hour."

"Good. Headquarters has lowered Su Ying's alert level from 'highly suspicious' to 'observation period.' As long as nothing abnormal happens afterward, her identity issue is considered resolved. You did well."

"Thank you."

"But," Fletcher paused, "headquarters also asked a question. During the engagement, was there any third party present? They detected a brief encrypted satellite communication signal in the logging yard area. The frequency is highly unusual and doesn't belong to any known armed group."

Lin Xiao's heart tightened.

"Encrypted satellite communication?"

"Yes. The signal lasted only seventeen seconds. We couldn't decrypt the contents, but the transmission point was southeast of the logging yard, less than five hundred meters from your combat zone. Headquarters suspects another force may have been observing the fight."

"I understand," Lin Xiao said. "I'll investigate."

The communication ended.

Lin Xiao lowered the communicator and pressed his fingers to his temple. A headache was spreading, like fine needles piercing the inside of his skull. He walked to the sink in the corner of the medical room, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water over his face. The icy water stung his skin and cleared his head slightly.

His reflection stared back from the mirror—bloodshot eyes, stubble on his chin, exhaustion and tension written across his face.

That man had used encrypted satellite communications.

That meant there was an organization behind him, one capable of satellite communication. S.H.I.E.L.D. had that capability, and so did Hydra, but if he were one of their people, there was no need to use an encrypted frequency—unless it was a private operation and he didn't want his superiors monitoring him.

Or it was a third-party force.

Lin Xiao dried his face and returned to the operating table. Su Ying had already sat up and was slowly moving her left arm. Her movements were cautious; every shift tugged at the wound near her ribs, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead from the pain.

"What did Fletcher say?" she asked.

"Headquarters detected an encrypted satellite signal," Lin Xiao said. "It was near the logging yard, right after the fight began."

Su Ying's breathing halted for a second.

"That man called for support?"

"Or he was transmitting intelligence." Lin Xiao sat in the chair beside the operating table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Nightingale, pull the full data on that encrypted signal. Analyze the transmitter model, output, and possible user range."

"I'm already analyzing it," Nightingale replied. "The signal characteristics indicate that the transmitter was a Thor's Hammer-series portable satellite terminal. Military-grade equipment. It costs more than two hundred thousand dollars on the black market. The user base is narrow—usually national intelligence agencies, major private military companies, or... private security teams belonging to certain super-rich individuals."

"Private security teams?"

"Yes. Some wealthy people build their own intelligence networks and equip them with top-tier gear. Thor's Hammer terminals are one of their commonly used communication tools."

Several names flashed through Lin Xiao's mind.

Tony Stark? No, he wouldn't do things this way. Obadiah Stane? He was already dead. Justin Hammer? Possible, but Hammer Industries mainly dealt in weapons. There was no reason for him to specifically record Su Ying's injury.

Were there other possibilities?

"Keep analyzing," Lin Xiao said. "I want the location of whoever received that signal."

"It'll take time, Boss. Encrypted signals are hard to trace. I can only try to find clues in data streams from surrounding relay stations."

"Make it fast."

The communication ended again.

The medical room fell quiet once more. The moonlight outside had shifted and now spilled across the center of the room, forming a patch of silver-white light on the floor. Su Ying looked at it and said softly, "If that man belongs to a third-party force, maybe I'm not his real target."

Lin Xiao raised his head.

"What do you mean?"

"He recorded a video of me getting injured," Su Ying said. "But what if you're his target? Recording the moment your most capable partner is wounded—maybe he wants to assess your response, evaluate Continental Hotel's operational capability, or... use that video to threaten you at some future point."

Lin Xiao's pupils contracted slightly.

Su Ying was right.

The timing of the video was too precise. He could have left before the fight started or recorded some other scene. Yet he had chosen the exact moment Su Ying was injured—the most critical link in Lin Xiao's plan, and the moment Lin Xiao's emotions were most likely to waver.

If Lin Xiao truly was the target, then that video was a blade hanging over his head.

"What could he threaten me with?" Lin Xiao asked calmly.

"Force you to cooperate, make you hand over something, or compel you to stop certain actions," Su Ying said. "You've been making big moves lately—clearing Hydra's outer safehouses, building the Continental Hotel network, contacting Stark Industries... someone may have noticed you and wants to learn what you're really capable of."

Lin Xiao was silent for several seconds.

Then he rose and walked to the window, looking out at the forest again. The night was dense, and the forest resembled a black ocean with no visible bottom. Wind swept through the treetops, sounding like waves.

He knew Su Ying had a point.

Since his rebirth, he had been using his information advantage to establish his plans quickly. His movements had indeed been considerable. Though he had tried to stay discreet, he could not completely avoid every watchful eye. S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, intelligence agencies across the world, forces from the underground world... someone would notice this suddenly rising "Lin Xiao."

That man might be the eyes of one such force.

But which one?

"Nightingale," Lin Xiao said, pressing the communicator for the third time. "Pull all records of my public and semi-public activities over the last three months. Analyze which operations may have drawn outside attention. At the same time, investigate private intelligence agencies and security companies worldwide that have been active in the Balkans recently."

"Understood."

"Also, contact our informant inside S.H.I.E.L.D. Ask whether there have been any secret investigations targeting me recently. Be careful. Don't expose yourself."

"Yes."

The communication ended.

Lin Xiao turned around and leaned against the window. Moonlight shone in from behind him, casting a long shadow before him. He looked at Su Ying, and Su Ying looked back at him. Their gazes met again in the dim medical room.

"Whoever he is," Su Ying said, "all we can do now is wait. Wait for Nightingale's analysis, wait for headquarters' next response, wait for that man's next move."

"Waiting is the most passive choice," Lin Xiao said. "I'm going to find him."

"How?"

"He recorded the video, so he'll definitely use it. Either to threaten me, trade it, or report to his superior. As long as he uses it, he'll leave traces. Nightingale is already monitoring every possible information channel—the dark web trading platforms, encrypted communication networks, underground intelligence markets. Once the video appears, we can trace it back to the source."

Su Ying nodded, then slowly lay back on the operating table. The pain in her ribs made her frown. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to relax her body.

Lin Xiao pulled over a chair and sat beside the operating table. He said nothing, simply watching Su Ying in silence. The monitor's beeping echoed steadily through the room like some sort of timer. Outside, the wind continued blowing, the rustling of treetops rising and falling.

Time passed, second by second.

After an unknown amount of time, the communicator rang again. It was Nightingale.

"Boss, I found something."

Lin Xiao answered immediately. "Talk."

"I analyzed the residual data from that encrypted signal and found that the receiver was located in... Geneva, Switzerland."

"Geneva?"

"The precise coordinates point to a private villa on the north shore of Lake Geneva. The owner is a German businessman named Albert von Hohenheim. Publicly, he deals in medical equipment. In reality, he finances multiple underground intelligence organizations. That villa is his private residence and one of the command centers of his intelligence network."

Lin Xiao rapidly searched his memories for the name.

Albert von Hohenheim.

He remembered it.

In memories from his previous life, the name had appeared several times in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top-secret archives. Von Hohenheim, descendant of German nobility, billionaire, international intelligence broker, specializing in providing intelligence services to governments, large corporations, and private organizations. He belonged to no faction and recognized only money. His client list included S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, A.I.M., and even Thanos's Black Order, which had once bought intelligence on Earth through him.

He was an intermediary.

Then the video that man had recorded was likely a piece of "merchandise" ordered by one of von Hohenheim's clients.

"Who's the client?" Lin Xiao asked.

"Still investigating," Nightingale said. "Von Hohenheim's security classification is extremely high. His transaction records are stored on physical media and kept offline. I need time to infiltrate his security systems."

"Hurry."

"Also," Nightingale's tone turned grave, "I intercepted a new encrypted communication from the direction of the logging yard, sent ten minutes after we withdrew. It was very short, only one sentence: 'The goods have been secured. Confirm the authenticity of the target.'"

The goods.

It referred to that video.

The authenticity of the target.

It referred to whether Su Ying's injury was real.

Lin Xiao's fingers tightened, and the casing of the communicator let out a faint creak.

"Sender and recipient?"

"The sender was that man's terminal. The recipient... was still that villa in Geneva."

So the video had already reached von Hohenheim.

Next came waiting for the client to collect it.

Lin Xiao ended the call and looked up. Su Ying had already opened her eyes and was watching him.

"Von Hohenheim," she said. "I've heard that name. There was an internal S.H.I.E.L.D. briefing on him. They called him 'the ghost of the intelligence world'—no allegiance, only deals."

"Who could his client be?" Lin Xiao asked softly, as if asking Su Ying, or perhaps himself.

Su Ying shook her head. "It could be anyone. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to confirm whether I truly defected, Hydra wants to confirm whether you're loyal, and other forces want to learn the Continental Hotel's true capabilities... Any of them could be involved."

"But one thing is certain," Lin Xiao said. "That client is very cautious. Rather than showing up personally, they used an intermediary like von Hohenheim, hired an unfamiliar face to carry out the mission, and used encrypted satellite communications to transmit intelligence. That means they don't want to expose their identity or leave behind any direct evidence."

"What are they afraid of?"

"Or what are they planning?"

Lin Xiao stood and walked to the medical room door, pulling it open. The hallway was dark, lit only by the faint green glow of an emergency lamp at the far end. He looked toward the stairs, where footsteps approached—Anna, carrying a tray with water and pills on it.

"Let her get some proper rest," Lin Xiao told Anna. "I need to deal with a few things."

Anna nodded and entered the medical room.

Lin Xiao turned toward the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. His mind raced, analyzing every possibility and calculating every response.

That man's appearance had disrupted his rhythm.

But that was fine.

The script could be rewritten, the plan adjusted, and the enemy dealt with.

He reached the technical analysis room on the third floor and pushed open the door. The room was filled with electronic equipment, data streams scrolling across the screens. Nightingale sat before the main console, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Boss," Nightingale said without turning around, "Von Hohenheim's security system is more complicated than expected. I'll need at least twelve hours to break through the first firewall."

"Too long," Lin Xiao said. "The video may already have changed hands."

"Then what do we do?"

Lin Xiao walked to another terminal and pulled up von Hohenheim's file. The photograph showed a German man around sixty, his silver hair meticulously combed, dressed in a tailored suit, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's.

"If the client wants to collect it," Lin Xiao said, "they'll have to go to Geneva in person or send a messenger. Von Hohenheim never transmits important intelligence over the internet. That's his rule."

"So we monitor that villa?"

"Yes." Lin Xiao brought up a satellite map of Geneva and marked the villa's location. "Contact our people in Switzerland. Deploy surveillance around that villa immediately. Everyone going in or out, every vehicle, every signal—I want to know about all of it."

"Understood."

Nightingale began working while Lin Xiao walked to the window and looked outside once more.

The night was still deep, but a faint glow had appeared in the east. Dawn was close.

A new day, new variables.

But no matter how many variables there were, he had to keep control of the situation.

Because this was a game he could not afford to lose.