Chapter Forty-Six: The Blade Unleashed

The storm at sea came swiftly and left just as quickly. An hour later, the raging winds gradually died down, the rain dwindled to a gentle drizzle, and the towering waves, several stories high, finally began to calm. Yet, in that brief hour, every member of the Furious Dragon Unit’s Third Team—those who prided themselves on finding joy in struggling against the elements—had come to truly understand the might of heaven and earth.

It wasn’t just the thunder cracking incessantly in their ears or the overwhelming impact of waves over a dozen meters high crashing down on them. Even the dense, brooding clouds overhead, shot through by constant flashes of lightning, pressed on them with unrelenting weight. But most unbearable of all was the wind, howling and ruthless, flinging wave after wave and relentlessly tearing at their bodies, threatening to lift them into the air. The static ropes, with less than two percent stretch, seemed ready to snap at any moment, yet were wrapped so tightly that they squeaked and groaned, biting deeper into flesh with every gust. Had it not been for the rigorous training of the Chaos Technique, which forged body and mind into steel, Lei Dong would have wondered if he might be strangled to death by those slender cords alone.

Fortunately, the cursed hurricane had finally passed. The team members wasted no time unfastening the ropes that had nearly embedded in their flesh, eager to savor a breath of free air.

“Wahahaha—!” Wu Yun, always the clown, burst into laughter as he looked at his comrades who had lashed themselves to the rocks with such care. “Look at the lot of you! Forget special forces—you look more like you’re filming an adult movie!”

Lei Dong was exasperated, tempted to pry open Wu Yun’s skull to see just what bizarre thoughts filled his head. Did he have to crack a joke at a time like this?

Still, the image was, admittedly, not far off…

Quickly unfastening the static rope and stowing it in his pack, Huang Xiwen called out in a low, commanding voice, “Check your gear! Prepare for combat!”

At once, the banter faded. On the small reef, the only sounds were the dying wind and rain, the soft rustling of gear checks, and the metallic click of bolts being drawn.

“One, combat suit intact, weapon intact, ammo intact, comms equipment intact, powered wing-suit intact! Drone One is damaged!” As Luo Haoran’s report rang out, everyone tensed slightly.

A damaged drone.

Drones, now essential for fast, covert reconnaissance in darkness, had become increasingly vital in modern special operations. The Furious Dragon Unit’s training meant they could manage without a drone, relying solely on manpower, but that would cost precious time, diminish their field of view, and, above all, compromise stealth.

And in this moment, time meant everything: the Republic’s most critical agreement, desperately needed intelligence, and the lives of 154 compatriots.

Thankfully, the subsequent reports eased their worries.

“Two, combat suit intact, weapon intact, ammo intact, comms equipment intact, powered wing-suit intact! Drone Two is fully operational!” Song Jingang’s report was brisk.

“Combat suit intact, weapon intact, ammo intact, comms equipment intact, powered wing-suit intact!”

“Combat suit intact, weapon intact…” one by one, Lang Tianyu, Bei Shiliang, Lei Dong, and Wu Yun reported in sequence, each confirming their gear was unharmed. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, and Huang Xiwen’s expression softened considerably.

Lei Dong gave a thumbs-up. “Nicely done!”

And Wu Yun, ever the showman, raised his fist and shouted, “Long live the great workers of the Republic!”

Beneath the humor, not a single one of them disagreed with the sentiment. The Furious Dragon Unit had its own munitions factory and a comprehensive military engineering training system; many weapons had to be hand-crafted by the team themselves. But there was no way, nor need, to produce the dozens—sometimes hundreds—of basic pieces of special operations equipment entirely on their own.

At times like these, the importance of defense contractors and countless military engineers shone through. Take this mission, for example: after parachuting through a storm and battling wind, rain, and towering waves for an hour, only a single reconnaissance drone was damaged by colliding with the rocks. The rest—waterproof, matte-black combat suits, weapons and ammo safely stowed, and the collapsible wing-suits—remained unscathed, providing the essential foundation for their upcoming assault.

Such performance was nothing short of miraculous.

And this miracle was the creation of millions of dedicated defense workers.

But this was no time for sentiment. Now, the team needed to seize every second.

Huang Xiwen activated the “Polaris” system, speaking in a near-whisper, “Comm check! Zero, one, two, three, three, two, one!”

“One, one, two, three, three, two, one!”

“Two, one, two, three, three, two, one!”

“Three, one, two, three…”

The comms check echoed clearly in their headsets. After Wu Yun, Number Six, finished his check, Huang Xiwen gave a sweeping gesture. “One, you’re up!”

There came a series of crisp clicks. Luo Haoran swiftly assembled his collapsible powered wing-suit. A faint whir of the motor followed, the fan filling the fabric with air, and Luo Haoran shot skyward.

The hurricane had passed. In the lingering drizzle and fitful winds, Luo Haoran maneuvered his wing-suit in a zigzag climb, circling the reef and gaining altitude.

Lei Dong knew Luo Haoran was gauging the wind. He held out his hand, feeling the rain and wind, a flicker of concern in his heart as he watched Luo Haoran disappear into the inky sky, soon lost to sight hundreds of meters above.

Minutes later, Luo Haoran’s voice came through the headset: “Winds at 500 meters exceed 20 meters per second. Recommend formation at 50 meters low altitude!”

“Understood!” Huang Xiwen barked. “Form up at 50 meters—move!”

The team responded in order.

According to their marching sequence, Lei Dong was the fifth to take off. Engine on, he sprinted a few steps to inflate the wing-suit, nudged the throttle, and the latest three-kilogram thrust engine roared to life, shooting Lei Dong upward at ten meters per second.

In five seconds, he reached the 50-meter formation altitude and began weaving a zigzag path.

“Luo Haoran, take point. Twenty-five meter spacing—V formation!” In less than a minute, all team members had taken to the air, quickly falling into formation under Huang Xiwen’s command.

“Third Team—move out!” Huang Xiwen’s low command came through their headsets. “The wrath of the Divine Dragon shakes the world!”

“Kill!”

The team growled in unison, gliding swiftly toward Bright Island of the Holy Emperor.

The latest powered wing-suit engines truly lived up to their reputation: less than three kilograms, yet astonishingly powerful. Even with sea winds still above force six, the team advanced in zigzags against the wind, maintaining speeds exceeding fifty kilometers per hour.

More importantly, the engines were nearly silent, producing only a faint buzzing, barely audible—especially flying into the wind.

“No wonder this is the ultimate tool for airborne assault and silent kills,” Lei Dong thought as he listened to the satisfying hum while steering his wing-suit.

In V formation, they sped fifty meters above the waves. Their matte-black suits and wing-suits blended seamlessly with the night.

Above them, the sky was pitch-black; below, the sea was equally dark, waves rising and falling with the wind. Lei Dong, guiding his powered wing-suit, heard the wind shrieking past his ears, watched the shadowy sea racing beneath him, and felt as if the vast world held no limits, that he could go anywhere, use anything, as if he were riding the wind in a dream of unfettered flight.

The only hazard was that, flying through such darkness, the sea and sky merged into one, making it dangerously easy to lose altitude without noticing. Lei Dong steadied himself, fixing his gaze on the glowing altimeter, focusing his formidable eyesight, and stayed tight on the formation’s tail.

The wind slackened further, the rain faded from a steady drizzle to a misty haze. With the engine’s powerful thrust, their speed only increased. The sixty-kilometer journey took less than two hours—even against the wind, which made zigzag flying much harder and lengthened the route. With a tailwind, the trip would have been even quicker.

In the distance, the faint outline of a low-lying island appeared. At its center, a hundred-meter-high structure flickered with light atop its summit: the statue of the Holy Emperor of Light, serving as the island’s beacon—Bright Island lay just ahead!

“Ascend five levels (climb to five hundred meters), kill comms (shut down wing-suit engines)!” At about seven kilometers from the island, Huang Xiwen’s order came through clearly.

Lei Dong throttled up, climbing rapidly with the formation. At five hundred meters, he cut the engine and began gliding toward the island.

“Two, prepare to release the bird!” Five kilometers from the island, Huang Xiwen’s voice sounded again.

“Roger!” Song Jingang, steering with one hand, detached the “Night Bird” from his control stick with the other. He pressed the activation switch and let it go. The tiny reconnaissance drone—just twenty centimeters long with a wingspan under fifty—dipped slightly, then shot up to fifteen hundred meters, fluttered its wings like a real seabird, and vanished silently into the endless night.