Textbook-Perfect Coordination

The footsteps drew closer.

"Tap, tap, tap..."

Heavy and rhythmic, they were the distinctive echoes of German military boots striking concrete. In this underground corridor, silent except for dripping pipes and the distant hum of machinery, the sound was magnified several times over, like Death's pendulum, striking precisely against Chu Hang's heart again and again.

He crouched like a cat preparing to hunt, keeping himself tightly concealed behind a pile of miscellaneous items covered with a heavy tarp. Every muscle in his body tensed unconsciously, like a string drawn to its limit. He could even hear his accelerated heartbeat pounding like a drum through his Super-Soldier Serum-enhanced hearing.

Honestly, was he afraid?

A few minutes ago, when he had just crawled out of that stinking sewer, he had definitely been terrified. But now, that fear had been replaced by something far hotter.

It was a strange feeling mixed with tension, excitement, and a trace of bloodlust.

Give him a break! What kind of lineup did he have now?

He glanced to his left. Steve Rogers—Captain America—the pinnacle of human physical ability, a tactical master who could turn hand-to-hand combat into an art form, a living legend. He was crouched in the shadows, seemingly blended into the darkness itself. Only those bright blue eyes remained visible in the dim light, calmly watching the direction from which the sound came. It was absolute focus, the confidence of someone with complete control over the battlefield.

Then he looked to his right. Logan—Wolverine—a monster who had lived for decades, perhaps centuries, a mutant with beastly instincts and an immortal body. His posture was far less refined. He was practically lying on the ground, his body rising and falling slightly as a faint growl, like that of a beast before feeding, rumbled from his throat. The ever-present cigar between his teeth was nearly bitten through, and his brown eyes glinted with undisguised primal killing intent.

Then there was himself. Chu Hang took a deep breath and felt the new power surging endlessly through every limb and bone. The Super-Soldier Serum had brought him more than strength and speed; it had remade him from the ground up. He could clearly sense the flow of his blood, hear every beat of his heart, and smell the complicated mix of engine oil, rust, and food scraps drifting from afar. His brain was like an overclocked supercomputer, calmly and efficiently processing the flood of information delivered by his five senses.

And this lineup was going up against two Hydra patrolmen who, judging from their footsteps, were clearly distracted and probably still complaining about the food?

This was no longer using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. This was taking an aircraft carrier to bomb a fishpond.

So Chu Hang was not afraid. He was merely nervous, like an elementary school student performing onstage for the first time. He felt like a rookie tagging along with two legendary veterans to scope out territory, terrified that he would mess something up and embarrass them.

The voices of the two Hydra soldiers were now close enough to hear clearly. They were speaking German, and Chu Hang could not understand a single word, but that did not stop him from analyzing their state through their tone. One voice was lazy, weary, and impatient, while the other kept grumbling about something, speaking quickly and overflowing with negative emotion.

Chu Hang's mind raced: two targets, relaxed state, extremely low vigilance, threat level: zero.

Just as the shadows of those two unlucky men appeared around the corridor corner, Steve, who had remained motionless like a statue, moved.

His movements were light and slow, yet filled with a unique sense of rhythm.

He first raised one finger, utterly steady in the dim light. He pointed at himself, then toward the corridor, silently mouthing, "One."

Then his gaze shifted to Logan, his blue eyes holding nothing but a pure tactical command. He raised another finger and pointed in the other direction, mouthing, "Two."

Finally, his eyes settled on Chu Hang. In that instant, Chu Hang felt as though a sleeping lion had fixed its gaze upon him. An immense pressure washed over him, but there was even more unquestionable trust in that look. Steve did not gesture a number. Instead, he pointed toward both ends of the corridor, then tapped his ear.

The meaning could not have been clearer.

He, Steve Rogers, would deal with the first one.

Logan would deal with the second.

And Chu Hang's most important task was to use his unmatched supernatural hearing as the team's ears, watching the surroundings and ensuring that nothing unexpected happened during the few seconds they acted.

Chu Hang understood instantly. A wave of heat rose from his chest and spread through his body. He nodded heavily, his gaze resolute.

In that instant, the nervousness of his first real mission vanished without a trace, replaced by indescribable excitement and a powerful sense of belonging.

So he was not just here to make up the numbers.

So even in a team made up of legends, he was an indispensable part!

The two unlucky Hydra soldiers had no idea of the disaster about to descend upon them. One appeared to be bragging about stealing a sausage from the kitchen the night before, while the other cursed him enviously. Neither noticed that, less than three meters away in the shadows, three apex predators had already bared their fangs.

The instant the two men walked side by side past the pile of junk, completely exposing their defenseless backs.

Steve and Logan moved!

Those were not movements a human should have been capable of.

They were like two prehistoric cheetahs pouncing from the darkness, silent yet fast as lightning!

Even Chu Hang's eyes could barely keep up, despite his dynamic vision having been enhanced by the serum to an unbelievable degree.

In his vision, Steve's figure became an elongated blue afterimage. In a flash, he was behind the soldier on the left. One large, corded hand clamped over the man's mouth and nose like a precise iron vise before he could make a sound. The soldier's cry had only just reached his throat before it was forcibly choked back.

At the same time, Steve's other arm coiled around the man's neck like a steel python, carrying a cold rush of force. He lifted his body in one smooth motion and violently twisted his arm backward and to the side!

Crack!

An incredibly soft yet unmistakably clear snap of breaking bone suddenly rang out in the dim corridor. To his enhanced hearing, it sounded like a dry branch being snapped beside his ear.

The Hydra soldier's body stiffened violently, then collapsed limply like a rag doll with its bones removed. Steve pulled him smoothly into the deeper shadows without a sound.

The entire process flowed like water, filled with a brutal kind of beauty, so clean and efficient that it chilled Chu Hang to the bone.

Logan, meanwhile, had an entirely different style.

If Steve was a textbook-perfect precise assassination, then Logan was pure, unadorned savage violence.

He pounced almost at the same time as Steve. He did not even consider covering the man's mouth, choosing a more direct and brutal method instead.

The instant he charged, his body dropped sharply, his shoulder driving forward as he slammed into the complaining soldier's back like an enraged bull.

Bang!

With a dull impact that made teeth ache, the poor man flew forward like a kite with its string cut. The air was instantly crushed out of his lungs, and his eyeballs nearly bulged from their sockets.

But it was not over.

Before he hit the ground, Logan followed like a shadow. One hand seized the back of the man's neck like an eagle's claw, while the elbow of his other arm tore through the air as it smashed viciously upward into the back of his head.

Thud!

Another dull blow rang out. The soldier could not even manage a muffled groan before his head lolled weakly to one side and he passed out on the spot.

Like he was dragging a dead dog, Logan lifted him with one hand and casually tossed him behind the pile of junk.

From the moment the two men struck to the end of the fight and the cleanup, Chu Hang counted silently: four seconds.

No more, no less. Exactly four seconds.

Chu Hang watched from behind, dumbfounded, his heart skipping a beat.

Holy crap!

This... this was what professionalism looked like!

He had watched countless spy assassination scenes in movies in his previous life, but after witnessing this art-like two-man hunt firsthand, he realized that compared to these two, those movies were nothing more than children playing house!

Steve's calm and precision. Logan's savagery and efficiency.

One was a scalpel; the other was a battle axe. Two completely different styles, yet they achieved the same flawless result.

Chu Hang swallowed unconsciously, quickly shaking off the jumble of thoughts in his head and forcing himself to fulfill his duty. He closed his eyes again and pushed his hearing to the limit, carefully scanning every corner of the corridor like radar, not even sparing the ventilation ducts in the ceiling.

Good. No new footsteps, no alarm, nothing.

That brief but lethal clash was like a pebble tossed into a still lake. It had not alerted anyone.

He gave Steve and Logan, who had finished dealing with the "trash" and turned back toward him, a light shake of his head, using a universally understood gesture to indicate that the area was clear.

Steve gave him an approving look, with a faint, almost imperceptible smile in his eyes, as if to say: Good job, kid.

Logan merely snorted disdainfully through his nose, but Chu Hang noticed that his constantly tense shoulders seemed to loosen slightly. He casually began roughing through the two unlucky men's belongings, quickly finding several spare magazines and two German stick grenades, which he stuffed into his pockets without ceremony.

Following his example, Chu Hang went over to search them as well. When his hand touched one of the corpses that still retained some warmth, his heart jolted, but he quickly suppressed the discomfort. He removed a fully loaded magazine from the man's ammunition belt and hung another grenade from his own waist.

Even a mosquito had meat on its bones. In a place like this, any supply could save a life at a critical moment. This was war, not a dinner party.

After a brief rest, Steve did not say another word. He merely pointed toward a rusty metal staircase leading to the upper level and gestured for them to keep moving.

The three of them once again became ghosts blending into the darkness, moving silently along the cold wall toward the stairs.

After that textbook-perfect cooperation, Chu Hang's confidence rose by more than a little, and his steps became steadier and more assured. As he walked, he listened intently to every sound around them, willingly serving as a human mobile radar for the two veterans.

Soon, they reached the bottom of the staircase.

It was an old-fashioned open-frame iron staircase, its steps covered in metal plates with anti-slip grooves. One could easily imagine that stepping on it would make a tremendous clanging noise.

Steve stopped and looked back at Chu Hang, his eyes full of inquiry.

Chu Hang immediately understood. He closed his eyes again, focusing all his attention on his ears as he carefully listened to the sounds above.

Unlike the nearly abandoned maintenance passage below, the upper level was clearly much more "lively."

He could hear a constant low hum, the distinctive sound of countless powerful currents passing through large transformers. He could also hear the regular clacking of massive mechanical gears meshing and turning.

There were footsteps as well. Not two sets, but at least four distinct sets moving back and forth in different locations, forming a crisscrossing patrol network.

"The power distribution room is above us," Chu Hang said in a breathy whisper so quiet that only he could hear it. "I can hear strong electrical currents and transformers operating. But there are a lot more guards too—at least four patrolmen. Two are conducting regular patrols along the outer walkway. One is mostly staying in one place, probably in front of some control console. The fourth... his footsteps are erratic, with no pattern. He might be supervising, or he might just be wandering around."

Steve nodded, his face showing no surprise. The power distribution room was the energy heart of the entire factory; strict defenses were only natural.

He looked up at the stairway entrance above. It was tightly covered by a huge square iron plate, leaving only a narrow slit through which light could pass.

"Looks like we'll have to give them a big surprise." A cold, confident curve formed at the corner of Steve's mouth.