In the courtyard.
Thirty hulking men in black special operations uniforms stood in three neat ranks, like thirty silent iron towers.
Chen Lin stood before them.
He wore a plain white T-shirt and casual trousers, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets, looking like the boy next door.
And yet.
When those thirty battle-hardened elite soldiers looked at him, their eyes held undisguised, almost fanatical fervor and worship!
"Salute!"
The man at their head, nearly two meters tall with a vicious knife scar across his face, let out a thunderous roar.
Whoosh!
Thirty right hands in tactical gloves snapped upward at precisely the same angle and speed, coming sharply to rest beside their temples.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized, as though controlled by a precision machine.
There were no slogans, no words.
But those thirty gazes, so intense they seemed almost tangible, said more than a thousand words ever could.
It was a wolf pack's absolute obedience to its alpha.
A believer's supreme reverence for a god!
Standing beside the car, Song Guoan and Ye Qingqing were utterly dumbstruck.
They had seen grand occasions. Business summits, state banquets, even military parades at the highest level.
But the scene before them was completely beyond their comprehension.
One look told them these soldiers were true elites who had clawed their way out of piles of corpses.
The murderous aura they exuded sent chills through the heart even from dozens of meters away.
Yet this group of living weapons was now offering a twenty-four-year-old man the highest military salute, their eyes brimming with fervor.
What kind of power was this?
No, "power" could no longer begin to describe it.
Just as the couple's entire worldview was being shattered, a clear gasp with a childish lilt rang out behind them.
"Wow!"
At some point,