Ambush

The armed helicopter provided for Mike's use had simply had most of its weapon systems removed. Mike was a little surprised, but when he saw the Stark Group logo on the fuselage, he understood.

There were two reasons the military had been so accommodating.

First, Stark's kidnapping was inseparable from the troops stationed in Afghanistan.

Second, the Stark Group had donated plenty of good stuff.

The second point was especially important.

With money, you really could do whatever you wanted.

Sergeant Rayner was cheerful, talkative, and intensely curious. In other words—he did not seem like someone who could keep a secret.

He noticed that Mike's only weapons were the long blade on his back, a Glock 25 at his waist, and a Ka-Bar 1217 knife strapped to his thigh. He looked like he was going on a picnic.

This was Afghanistan, the graveyard of United States soldiers!

And what could one person accomplish alone?!

Sergeant Rayner even suspected that Mike was a reporter disguised as a mercenary, or some rich kid here to experience life on the battlefield.

But what could he say? He was just a grunt. He would do his job and pray that everything remained peaceful until the end.

Mike asked Sergeant Rayner why he had enlisted.

Rayner said, "It's a simple story." Then he "simply" told it for nearly fifteen minutes.

Rayner had been born in a Black neighborhood north of Central Park in Manhattan, a place as chaotic as Hell's Kitchen. His father had been a street thug who spent most of his time in prison and died in a prison gang fight. After his father died, Rayner's mother supported him through drug dealing and prostitution.

When Rayner was in high school, his mother disappeared. Maybe she had run away because she could no longer endure her miserable life, or maybe she had been buried somewhere underground. The police came, took a statement, and then stopped caring.

After graduation, Rayner naturally joined a gang, just like many other kids from the neighborhood.

"If your family is made up of criminals, and everyone around you is a criminal, then you'll probably become a criminal too."

"A bunch of kids who had just joined a gang were full of ambition, shouting about claiming territory of our own... My best friend Brook died right beside me. A bullet hit him in the temple, and white brain matter mixed with blood splashed across my face."

"I pissed myself. Not figuratively—I actually pissed myself. That was when I realized I wasn't as brave as I thought. I kept thinking that as long as I remained in the gang, I would die like Brook sooner or later."

"But gangs are like spiderwebs. Once you're tangled up in one, everyone sees you as a traitor if you try to leave. There's no place for you in the neighborhood anymore."

"Changing your fate isn't easy. I didn't have many choices, and joining the military was one of them."

Black, poorly educated, with a record of minor crimes... unless he earned exceptional military merit, sergeant would be Sergeant Rayner's ceiling.

The Stark Group would provide Rayner with a well-paying job after he retired from the military, on the condition that while Mike was at the base, Rayner had to satisfy Mike's requests as much as possible.

It was an enviable opportunity. His superiors had agreed, so naturally Rayner had no objections.

Thirty minutes later, the helicopter arrived at the designated search area. Mike told Rayner to slow down and fly low.

The request made Rayner hesitate.

Ultra-low-altitude flight was unsafe for an armed helicopter, especially in Afghanistan. No matter what slogans they used or how much they put on a show, every United States soldier, from top to bottom, understood—they were invaders. So it was perfectly reasonable for Afghan people to fire an RPG at a United States military helicopter on sight.

In response, Mike took out his phone and smiled faintly. "I have Miss Potts's number. If you're unwilling, I understand. I'm sure someone else would be willing."

Rayner: (⊙︿⊙) They had been getting along so well just moments ago, yet Mike changed his face faster than turning a page.

Those colleagues who were green with envy would surely be more than willing to replace him. Thinking of that, Rayner reluctantly agreed. "All right. Let's hope today is your lucky day and mine."

"Trust me, my luck has always been good," Mike said with a smile.

"My friend Jeremy said that too," Rayner said mournfully. "Then he stepped on a landmine and got three legs blown off. The most pitiful one is his wife—so young, so beautiful, that figure... hehehe~"

"..." Mike no longer wanted to talk.

Rayner kept muttering about finding a chance to comfort Jeremy's wife face-to-face.

This was why one had to be decent and choose friends carefully.

Considering the time spent flying back and forth and the helicopter's endurance, they had no more than three hours for the actual search.

For three consecutive days, there was no news of Stark.

Rayner was exhausted, mainly because flying at ultra-low altitude demanded even greater concentration.

In a room at the temporary camp.

Two mercenaries were talking.

"Boss, I checked it out. That guy belongs to the blonde mercenary chick. He's all fair and clean-looking—obviously just her pretty boy. We don't need to care about him!"

"We don't need to care about him?" The boss drew several circles on a map. "These are the areas that man has searched over the past three days."

The subordinate said, "???"

So what?

The boss knew his subordinate was not very bright, but he was loyal. Rather than getting angry, he thought this was the perfect chance to show off.

"Idiot, look carefully. These places are the areas we're responsible for, and they're the areas we haven't searched yet. That means..."

The subordinate finally understood his role and looked at the boss with a thirst for knowledge. "What does that mean?"

"It means that either he came to the same conclusion as us and believes Stark is being held there, or he suspects us."

"Oh!" The subordinate suddenly understood. "Then what should we do? Stop him?"

The boss's gaze turned cold. "Stop him? Why go through all that trouble? This is Afghanistan. Isn't it normal for accidents to happen? And if someone dies and the body can't be found, isn't that normal too?"

The fourth day.

Rayner said, "There hasn't been any progress at all. How are you not worried?"

Mike said, "There has been progress."

Several areas had been eliminated, narrowing the range once again. He had a feeling that perhaps he would not return empty-handed today.

"Progress? How come I don't know about it?!"

"Because I didn't tell you."

"Right. I'm just a 'driver.' What right do I have to know?" Rayner's tone was resentful.

Mike ignored Rayner. Rayner was worse at keeping secrets than a loudspeaker, yet he had no self-awareness whatsoever.

After entering the search area, the helicopter descended to an altitude of fifty meters. Mike activated Zoro's Possession Card and used Observation Haki to search the area below.

Suddenly—

"People? Did we find a hidden Ten Rings base?"

"No!"

"Only two of them. Judging by their posture, they seem to be lying in ambush. Their target... is me?"

Mike shouted, "Rayner, pull the helicopter up! Now!"

At the same time, he drew his katana.

Rayner jumped in fright.

He had no idea what was happening. Only after freezing for two or three seconds did he begin to pull the helicopter upward.

Mike was not a military officer, after all, so it was not strange that Rayner hesitated.

Rayner saw someone below wearing camouflage, crouching halfway down with a shoulder-fired missile launcher resting on his shoulder.

A Stark product, equipped with dual laser and thermal Lock-On tracking technology.

"At this distance... we're screwed."

Rayner's heart went ice-cold. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the helicopter's side door open. At some point, Mike had drawn the long blade from his back. He held it in his left hand, his left arm bent and slightly raised, while his right hand gripped the inside of his left forearm.

The instant the missile left its launcher, Mike swung his blade.

One Sword Style: 36 Pound Phoenix!

The spiraling slash wave collided with the missile in midair. The explosion erupted barely ten meters from the helicopter, and the resulting shockwave made the aircraft sway violently.

Rayner hurriedly steadied the helicopter and pulled it higher while the smoke from the explosion obscured their vision.

"He jumped..."

Rayner let out a breath of relief, only to catch sight of Mike's figure plummeting downward.

Before Rayner's incredulous eyes, Mike landed with his knees bent and rolled forward with the momentum. As he rolled, his body gradually stretched out again, smoothly transitioning into a run.

Like a swift cheetah.

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