Chapter Twenty-Eight: An Encounter

Lei Dong jogged along with a drink in his hand, a smile on his face, when suddenly a man in a hurry emerged from the crowd and, by sheer coincidence, blocked his path. Just as it seemed the two would collide, Lei Dong shifted his step lightly, twisted his waist, and, to the eyes of the bystanders, seemed to blur and slip past the man's shoulder with barely a brush.

"Sorry about that, brother!" Lei Dong, though he had dodged in time, imagined he must have startled the other man. Smiling apologetically, he offered a quick apology.

But the man merely gave a cold snort, shot Lei Dong a dissatisfied glare, and then cast a sharp, almost vicious look at An Jing before lowering his head and hurrying away without another word.

"That guy's odd," Lei Dong remarked with a laugh as he and An Jing sipped their drinks together, enjoying the sweet intimacy. It was early summer, and the temperature was high; nearly everyone in the park wore light clothing, even the frail elderly or those who prided themselves on their appearance had switched to shirts. Yet the man they’d just encountered, in the sweltering heat, still wore a thick coat. His face was gaunt, but his body appeared unusually bulky—wasn’t he afraid of the heat?

The memory of the man's appearance brought amused smiles to both.

Suddenly, their bottles froze at their lips, smiles vanishing in an instant. In unison, they exclaimed, "Wait, it’s him!"

Their eyes met, both filled with shock and disbelief.

Though the man had shaved off his beard and exchanged his traditional robes for ordinary clothes, his sharply defined features and, above all, those ruthless, predatory eyes left Lei Dong and An Jing in no doubt about his identity. Only hours ago, Lei Dong had reviewed this man's dossier and even sketched his likeness in chilling detail—Aiyimu Nawaar.

A most-wanted fugitive by the Ministry of Police, a notorious terrorist responsible for countless bloody attacks in the Republic, Deputy Head of Operations for the East Uguqat Liberation Assault Team, and Deputy Minister of Armed Forces for the Western Front of the Republic.

This terrorist, forced to live in exile by the Republic’s relentless pursuit, had somehow managed to enter the country. Was it with a forged identity, or by illicitly crossing the border? In recent years, the Republic had vastly strengthened border controls, but given its sprawling 20,000 kilometer land frontier and over 18,000 kilometers of coastline, finding a weak spot was far from impossible.

Yet it was not Nawaar’s method of entry that shocked Lei Dong most—it was his presence in Hanjing, in Changchun Garden. What was he planning?

Over the years, as the Republic’s strength grew and the state poured vast resources into developing the northwestern provinces, the local Uguqat residents had grown ever wealthier, prouder, and more loyal. Their contempt and hatred for the terrorists, religious extremists, and separatists who disrupted their stable, prosperous lives had only intensified. The soil that once nurtured violent ideology had nearly vanished. The Republic’s special forces had repeatedly raided terrorist bases, shrinking their space to survive. Forced into the harshest foreign wilderness, they clung to existence like cornered rats.

(Page 1/3)

Despite a few powerful nations—such as the Minia Federation and the Jepan Empire—that regarded the Republic as their chief adversary and sought to contain its growth, only a handful of their politicians dared occasionally voice support for the fugitives. Officially, however, such support was rare, for the terrorists’ infamy had rendered them pariahs everywhere.

What’s more, the Republic’s growing power and increasingly assertive diplomacy in recent years had given even its rivals pause. No one wished to provoke this ancient Eastern nation, whose civilization had endured for millennia. Outwardly, it called itself the “Nation of Moderation” and “Land of Rituals,” appearing gentle and harmless. Yet time and again, its cunning, alliances, and even occasional explosive actions had startled and awed the world, making it clear that it was not to be trifled with.

Under these circumstances, most East Uguqat terrorists in exile found their survival squeezed to the barest minimum, their funding drastically cut. Many were reduced to trafficking their own women and organizing prostitution, living wretched, rat-like lives, their only remaining acts being the occasional suicide bombing to remind the world of their existence. High-ranking figures like Aiyimu Nawaar, while free from want, could do little more than direct secretive operations from abroad.

Yet now, this man who had hidden overseas for years had audaciously appeared in the Republic’s capital. Whatever his purpose, there could be no doubt: it would be a bold and desperate action.

Lei Dong and An Jing exchanged worried glances.

This was the heart of the Republic. Any incident here would shake the nation and bring incalculable consequences.

"Wait here for me!" Lei Dong said hurriedly, turning to give chase, but An Jing called to him softly, "Lei Dong!"

He stopped and looked back at her, puzzled.

"I’ll notify the academy immediately and have them coordinate with the security services and police to investigate Nawaar’s whereabouts and intentions. You focus on tracking him—just be careful not to alarm the other visitors."

Seeing An Jing’s face change in an instant from gentle calm to decisive resolve, Lei Dong felt a surge of admiration. Confronted with a grave crisis, this gentle, scholarly girl showed no fear or confusion. Instead, she remained steady and composed, considering every aspect and making sound arrangements—qualities that would put most men to shame. In that moment, Lei Dong recalled a certain professor’s famous comment: “If Comrade An Jing had lived in wartime, she would surely have become one of the Republic’s brightest generals.”

Lei Dong looked at her deeply and nodded. “I understand.”

“Keep your line open. The academy will be in touch,” An Jing said, pulling out her special-issue comms device. As she entered the code, she fixed Lei Dong with a steady gaze. “Be careful.”

Seeing the trace of concern in her otherwise calm eyes, Lei Dong was filled with a sudden sense of daring. He stepped forward, gave her a gentle hug, and laughed, “Don’t worry!” before setting off in the direction Nawaar had gone.

The crowd in the park had grown denser in the minute or so they’d spoken, and by now Nawaar had vanished from sight.

(Page 2/3)

Lei Dong merely frowned slightly, betraying no particular anxiety. At his current level—on the verge of breaking through to the Nascent Soul stage—his spiritual senses were so refined and far-reaching that, within a five-kilometer radius, nothing could hide from him—not even a rat.

Spreading his consciousness ahead over a distance of about a kilometer, he reached for his special-issue communicator.

This device, identical to the one An Jing had just used, was part of the elite Angry Dragon Squad’s equipment. Outwardly it looked like an ordinary mobile phone, but its capabilities were extraordinary.

The communicator maintained a constant link with a dedicated communications satellite, independent of the “Arctic” positioning and command system. For overseas operations, it could also access the Arctic global platform. It featured fifty independent encrypted channels, allowing HQ to direct every Angry Dragon operative individually—a flexibility and immediacy far superior to the Arctic system’s squad-level command.

It was powered by a state-of-the-art domestic integrated circuit and equipped with two high-resolution optical cameras, enabling real-time sharing of battlefield video across all platforms. With ten command channels, it could link to external information and command networks, vastly expanding its command reach.

Perhaps most impressive was its tiny solar photovoltaic cell, providing round-the-clock power, 365 days a year. In case of battery failure, an integrated alcohol-fuel reserve could generate an astonishing 1,000 mAh per square centimeter with just 10 grams of alcohol, ensuring that communications would never be interrupted, no matter the circumstances.

Simply put, it was a marvel of modern military technology, combining communications, command, and information exchange into a single device.

Although Lei Dong’s wristwatch—also an Angry Dragon Squad-issue communicator—could serve in a pinch, the gravity of this moment demanded the full capabilities of his specialist device, which he never let out of his sight.

As he slipped on the discreet earpiece, Lei Dong located his “rat” through his spiritual sense.

Eight hundred meters ahead, near the North Palace Gate, a bulky, hunched figure darted past and paused, furtively glancing around—Aiyimu Nawaar himself.

“Let’s see where you think you can run to, you little rat.” Lei Dong’s lips curled into a cold smile. With his speed, he could close the distance within two minutes, blending with the crowd and drawing no undue attention. As soon as he got within twenty meters—even if Nawaar noticed him—Lei Dong knew with absolute certainty he could strike with lightning speed and subdue the criminal before he could make a single move.