Chapter 26

When Charles opened his eyes, the plane had landed smoothly. The journey was uneventful—no threats, no turbulence. Just a quiet, uneventful arrival.

He unfastened his seatbelt and stood, stepping off the plane alongside Cassandra and several other Hydra operatives.

Waiting for them on the tarmac was another group of Hydra members—ones Charles had already subtly brainwashed to ensure their loyalty. Their faces showed nothing but eager compliance, exactly how Charles intended.

Together, they made their way toward the Hydra headquarters. As they approached, Charles felt his power stir.

With every step he took toward the heart of the compound, his telepathic reach expanded like an invisible web spreading outward, touching every mind within the vicinity.

By the time they reached the building, his consciousness blanketed the entire headquarters, effortlessly slipping into the thoughts of every person inside.

It didn't take much for Charles to seize control. One by one, the minds of all the personnel—leaders included—bent under his influence. There were no struggles, only silent surrender.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the mental exertion. "That's quite the workout," Charles muttered to himself. But a shadow of guilt flickered across his mind. "They're still people, though… I feel bad for them. Maybe I can set them for free."

He turned to Cassandra, his right-hand operative, and gave her an approving nod. "Thanks for gathering the leaders for me."

"No problem, sir," Cassandra replied, her voice steady and professional.

Charles' gaze hardened slightly. "Send a message to the leaders. Once the war is over, they're to make it appear as though Hydra is dead. Go underground. Hide. But continue developing the army. Keep pushing technological advancements."

Cassandra nodded, jotting down his instructions.

"And one more thing," Charles added, his voice cold and decisive. "Remove anyone who was brainwashed by Hydra's methods. I only want those who are truly loyal. Release the rest—send them back to their homes. I'll take care of wiping their memories."

Without waiting for a response, Charles closed his eyes. A ripple of mental energy spread outward, and in the span of a few seconds, every brainwashed individual in the compound was freed—memories of their time in Hydra erased, their minds returned to what they once were.

Cassandra glanced at him. "I'll relay your orders to the leaders."

"Good." Charles gave her a small, approving smile. "See you soon."

With that, he left the headquarters, heading straight back to the airport. His steps were steady, his mind already focused on his next move. Once aboard the plane, he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, deep in thought.

'Going back home feels... pointless,' Charles thought. 'I need something more. I'll find it in Chi. I need to push my body to its limit.'

His decision solidified. He leaned forward slightly, calling out to the driver.

"Change of plans. Take me to Tibet."

The driver glanced back and gave a quick nod. "Yes, sir."

Charles sat back, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips as the plane ascended into the sky, heading east toward Tibet.

Meanwhile, Charles had completely lost track of time—and with it, forgotten about his mother, Sharon.

It had been two years since he left to work for the government, and during that time, not once had he reached out to her.

Two years was more than enough for any mother to be consumed with worry, and Sharon was no exception.

She sat in the dimly lit sitting room, wringing her hands, her usually composed demeanor unraveling.

Her deep brown eyes, framed by faint wrinkles, were filled with a restless sorrow.

She had once been a graceful woman, always calm and in control, but these days, anxiety weighed heavily on her.

Her auburn hair, usually kept in an elegant twist, was now loose and slightly disheveled, a sign of the sleepless nights spent waiting, wondering, and hoping for news of her son.

"Why did he have to follow in *his* footsteps?" Sharon whispered, pacing the room in agitation. Her voice trembled with both anger and grief. "This is all your fault, Brian..." She choked on her words, addressing her late husband even though he wasn't there to hear it. Tears welled in her eyes, and she clutched her silk robe tighter around her, as if that would hold her together.

She sank into the armchair, her legs finally giving out. The room felt both too big and too empty. She pressed her hand to her forehead, her breath shallow and quick.

Her heart was heavy with all the fears she tried to suppress: 'Is Charles safe? Has something happened to him?' Every unanswered question gnawed at her.

Some might say Charles had forgotten her, that as a good son he should have come home by now to let her know he was okay.

But he hadn't. Sharon knew why—he wasn't worried about her. Not with Edward around to take care of everything.

"Edward," she called softly, her voice cracking as it echoed through the quiet room.

A moment later, Edward appeared in the doorway. He was a man of precision, always neat and composed.

His graying hair was combed back smoothly, and he wore a crisp black suit that seemed immune to the wrinkles of time.

His calm expression rarely wavered, but the hint of concern in his eyes showed that he knew how much Sharon had been struggling.

"Is there something you need, Madam Sharon?" Edward asked, stepping closer with his usual grace and decorum.

"I want my son..." Sharon whispered, her voice trembling. "Can you bring him back? Please, Edward."

The butler's expression softened, but he gave a small shake of his head. "I wish I could, Madam. But who would assist you here with the work?"

Sharon lowered her gaze, defeated by the truth in his words. She knew she depended on Edward for almost everything now, and if he left to find Charles, the household would fall apart. But still, the longing in her heart for her son would not be silenced.

She sighed deeply, pressing her fingertips to her temples. "Then... can't you find someone else to look for him? I'm willing to pay—whatever it takes."

Edward folded his hands behind his back and gave a thoughtful hum. "I believe I might know someone," he said after a moment.

Sharon looked up, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time in days.

"Please, Edward... If there's anyone who can bring him back, find them," she whispered.

Edward gave her a small, reassuring nod. "Leave it to me, Madam Sharon. I will make the arrangements."

With that, he turned and quietly left the room, his measured steps echoing softly down the hall.

Sharon stayed where she was, sinking deeper into the armchair. The room fell silent again, but her heart stirred with fragile hope—hope that, soon, her son would walk through the door and everything would be right again.