Chapter Fifty: Astonishing Upheaval

The Boeing 777 was the world’s first large airliner to use fly-by-wire technology. The ar1n629 data bus connected all electronic devices with just two twisted wires, reducing the wiring harness from the Boeing 767’s six hundred wires to four hundred, and the wire junctions from 4,860 to 1,580.

Yet even so, the dense web of circuits displayed on the monitors made Lei Dong, observing from fifteen hundred meters away, feel his scalp tingle—someone with trypophobia could never fly this plane! Aside from Bei Shiliang and Song Jingang, who both had a keen interest and talent for calculations, the rest of the team always kept their distance from such technical matters.

Song Jingang, however, was utterly absorbed, tapping lightly and continuously on his notebook, meticulously checking the aircraft’s primary circuits.

The military-grade laptop’s keyboard was specially designed from a new material, offering excellent tactile feedback—comfortable to the touch, yet silent, producing no sound.

Naturally, Song Jingang wasn’t checking every circuit on the plane; that would take a full day and was the job of an engineer, not a special forces operative. He focused only on the most critical lines: power supply, lighting, and video surveillance.

Song Jingang’s inspection didn’t take long, but every team member’s heart hovered in suspense. No one knew what was happening inside the cabin, nor what might unfold next in the darkness.

Though only ten minutes passed, it felt like a century to the waiting team, until Song Jingang’s carefully suppressed voice came through their headsets.

“Main power circuit malfunction. Backup power circuit normal. Lighting circuits normal. Video surveillance circuits normal. Now, I’m switching the video feed to the cabin.”

“Three, two, one!” Song Jingang’s countdown ended, and he let out a long breath, as if expelling all the tension in his chest. Instantly, the cabin’s interior appeared on each team member’s “Polaris” device.

All overhead lights in the cabin were off, with only the emergency lamps flickering dimly. Clearly, the East U terrorist group didn’t want the cabin completely dark—unable to monitor the hostages’ movements—nor too bright, which might attract unwanted attention. All window shades were open, ensuring no light leaked outside, and making it impossible for anyone outside to discern what was happening within.

But they never imagined that an elite special operations squad was closing in, their vanguard already infiltrating the terrorists’ core, observing their every move right under their noses.

Nearly two hundred passengers sat in economy class, faces weary and silent, the vast cabin eerily quiet. Only three terrorists armed with submachine guns patrolled the front, middle, and rear sections.

Sukunar! Jabak! Hoshan!

“Clear!” Huang Xiwen whispered excitedly.

The surveillance camera paused briefly at the economy cabin door, drawing the team’s attention to a medium-built man.

He wasn’t tall, wore a round, flat white cap, sported a thick beard, deep-set eyes, and a somber expression. He sat motionless by the door to the galley and crew rest area, but his grim look, intermittent twitching at his mouth, and unconscious clenching and releasing of his hands revealed his intense anxiety.

Maimajiang Tiehe! A fanatic member of the East U organization, notorious terrorist, and main executor of this hijacking!

Huang Xiwen gestured, and Luo Haoran and Lang Tianyu, weapons ready, advanced through the grass. Bei Shiliang, carrying the thermal imager, moved at the center, while Huang Xiwen brought up the rear, keeping watch and monitoring the feed from Polaris.

The squad moved fluidly, swiftly and silently closing the distance to the aircraft.

Meanwhile, Song Jingang in the cockpit continually switched cabin surveillance feeds, systematically searching for their targets.

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Neither Maimajiang, lost in his own thoughts, nor the patrolling trio, nor the hostages in the cabin noticed the twelve surveillance cameras distributed throughout the aircraft, each working in turn, transmitting their locations, expressions, and movements to the team hundreds of meters away.

“Target One spotted!” As the squad successfully reached the belly of the aircraft, hiding in its shadow and splitting into two groups, ready to enter via the passage Song Jingang and Wuyun had opened, Song Jingang’s voice came through their headsets.

On the Polaris screens, the image was clear.

In row fifteen, by the second aisle, sat an elderly man with broad features and graying hair—the primary target of this rescue operation: Cao Jingren!

What surprised the team was that, in previous images, all they saw were faces marked by terror and fatigue. After enduring more than twenty hours of horror and torment, some hostages stared blankly, some bit their lips and wept silently, others buried their heads deep in their chests, motionless.

But this elderly man, well into his seventies, refined and dignified, exuded calm authority without anger. With eyes gently closed, he rested comfortably against his headrest—sleeping!

“A true veteran of storms. That composure, that psychological fortitude…” Lei Dong couldn’t help but praise.

In one corner of the screen, beside Cao Jingren sat a middle-aged man in a suit, pressed against the window with its shade down, eyes darting furtively—Chen Weizhe, the separatist from the island!

Only now did the team’s hearts settle, at least in part.

“Control circuit one, lights. Four, with me, front cabin door. Two, three, five, rear cabin door. Six, cover!” Huang Xiwen issued a string of orders.

“One, acknowledged!”

“Two, acknowledged!”

“Three, acknowledged!”

…

A series of quiet reports followed, and the team slipped into the aircraft like a school of fish.

In the rear cargo bay, Song Jingang had already activated the emergency lights from the cockpit, illuminating the gangway to the cabin. Wuyun, weapon ready, signaled, and Luo Haoran and Lang Tianyu, using the dim light, swiftly moved to the gangway.

Lang Tianyu crouched at the gangway, replacing Wuyun, gun raised and aiming at the circular hatch above, gesturing to cover Wuyun and Luo Haoran’s ascent.

For these two, the three-meter gangway was nothing. Wuyun, holding his weapon, used his left hand to lightly push off the edge, his body floating upward like a leaf, his feet landing silently beneath the hatch.

Song Jingang, monitoring every team member through the military laptop, immediately switched the feed to the galley at the tail and sent it to Wuyun’s Polaris.

Wuyun checked the Polaris feed, listened intently for half a minute, confirmed there were no sounds above and no movement within fifteen meters, then slowly and silently unlocked the hatch, lightly pushed off the gangway, and sprang out of the cargo bay into the galley—where the cabin’s line of sight couldn’t reach.

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Within seconds, Luo Haoran and Lang Tianyu followed, hiding in the shadows, weapons ready.

Luo Haoran pressed his throat mic in a pattern—two long, one short—signaling their positions. Moments later, Huang Xiwen’s “stand by” instruction came through the headset.

By now, Huang Xiwen and Bei Shiliang had successfully passed through first and business class, concealed behind the cabin door. As soon as Song Jingang in the cockpit confirmed the targets, they could strike with lightning speed.

“Zero, something’s up!” The voice in the headset made Huang Xiwen tense. Indeed, Song Jingang sounded both surprised and anxious: “Cabin sweep complete. Target Two…” Song Jingang hesitated. “Not in the cabin. James Sam is missing!”

A collective numbness swept through the team.

At the decisive moment, poised for the final strike and the dawn of victory, such news was as shocking as a thunderclap. Was this a joke? After all the hardship, just when the mission seemed complete, they were told their target… didn’t exist?!

If Shui Yaoxian couldn’t be found, even if every terrorist aboard was killed and Cao Jingren and nearly two hundred passengers rescued, the operation—and for the Republic’s elite Angry Dragon Squad—would be a failure. No team member could accept such an outcome.

“Confirm again!” Huang Xiwen’s voice was pressed to its lowest pitch, almost a breathless whisper, yet those four words struck the team like a drum.

As the team’s hearts pounded, Song Jingang, abandoning his usual calm, rapidly swept his hands across the keyboard.

Ten seconds, fifteen, thirty, a minute… Time stretched agonizingly. Two minutes later, Song Jingang’s voice, tinged with frustration, came again: “Confirmed. Target not present!”

Damn it! Huang Xiwen pinched himself hard to suppress the urge to curse, gestured to Bei Shiliang, who stared unwaveringly at the thermal imager. After a while, he shook his head slowly.

Sweat broke out on Huang Xiwen’s brow. He rasped, “Five!”

He sought confirmation from Lei Dong, relying on Lei Dong’s “human radar” abilities to locate Shui Yaoxian—his last hope.

But that hope was swiftly dashed.

Barely three seconds passed before Lei Dong reported.

“No trace within ten kilometers…”