Infiltration

Upon hearing the plan, Rose frowned skeptically. "Boss, even if we draw their fire, we can't possibly divert all their forces. The base must have heavy security. Huo Xuan alone won't stand a chance."

Fang Lingtian remained composed. "That depends on Huo Xuan's capabilities. My judgment of people has always been accurate—he's the type to turn the impossible into reality."

Praise from Fang Lingtian was rare, making his words all the more surprising. Thunderstorm grinned. "Huo Xuan, the boss never compliments anyone. You're the first."

"Not the first," Yuan Xin corrected with a sigh. "Three years ago, he spoke the same way about Hawkeye."

At the mention of that name, the group fell silent. Even Fang Lingtian's expression darkened.

Huo Xuan was puzzled. "Who's Hawkeye?"

Leafblade gave him a strange look. "Hawkeye was once B-team's pride—a born sniper king who never missed a kill. But three years ago, he defected to the U.S. for a woman."

Now Huo Xuan understood Fang Lingtian's reaction. The man had clearly placed great hopes in Hawkeye, only to be betrayed.

For the next hour, Fang Lingtian meticulously outlined the rescue plan, detailing every step and timing with precision. Huo Xuan listened intently.

By nightfall, the team split into six vehicles, advancing toward the enemy base. After four hours, they halted and divided into four units:

Thunderstorm and Yuan XinLeafblade and RoseAncient Rock and Zhu HongFang Lingtian and Huo Xuan

Each unit approached from a different direction, armed with heavy weaponry—mortars, rocket launchers, micro-missiles, and landmines. At Fang Lingtian's command, the base erupted in flames.

"ALERT! ALERT! ENEMY ATTACK!" Sirens blared as emergency response teams scrambled.

Fang Lingtian shouldered a rocket launcher, firing at the high-voltage perimeter fence. The explosion tore a gaping hole through the electrified barrier.

Fang Lingtian followed up with incendiary, explosive, and bunker-busting rounds, systematically clearing a path until a breach emerged.

"Be careful!" Huo Xuan said before darting through the opening.

Simultaneously, enemy troops charged, guns blazing. Fang Lingtian evaded with uncanny footwork, retreating to their vehicle.

Inside the tunnel, Huo Xuan immediately spotted four armed soldiers sprinting toward him—black helmets, submachine guns at the ready. The moment they saw him, bullets filled the corridor.

Huo Xuan inhaled sharply. The blood dragon within him surged, internal force erupting as he unleashed Dragon-Riding Step. His speed defied description—a phantom weaving through gunfire in serpentine arcs.

Bullets grazed his clothes, drawing blood. In under a second, he closed the gap.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

One punch to a soldier's abdomen folded the man like paper, foam bubbling from his mouth. The remaining three fumbled to adjust their aim—too late.

Huo Xuan moved like lightning:

Tai Chi Hammer crushed the second man's chest.Tai Chi Whip shattered the third's riot helmet, pulping his face.Tai Chi Axe severed the fourth's neck, leaving his head lolling.

After stripping a corpse's uniform (a passable fit), he grabbed a submachine gun and sprinted deeper.

The tunnel ended at a titanium alloy door with fingerprint recognition. Huo Xuan's university major—computer electronics—served him well.

X-ray vision revealed the mechanism. One minute later, he shot the control panel open, exposed the wiring, and crossed two circuits. The door hissed open.

Beyond lay a hive of activity: dozens at workstations monitoring satellite feeds, surveillance, radar, and signals. Guards patrolled the perimeter.

Two approached as he entered. "Status report! Why are you here?" one barked in American English.

Huo Xuan's accent was rough but passable. "Enemies targeting generators! We can't hold—requesting orders!"

Amid the chaos, the guards bought it. One wheeled around, yelling, "All units—secure the generators! Base integrity at stake!"

Eight more guards charged out, oblivious to the bullet-riddled door behind them.

Huo Xuan suppressed a smirk as he trailed the guards. Locating the generators meant he could plunge the base into darkness—where his Buddha Eye would grant him perfect vision.

The group passed through seven or eight security doors before reaching an underground chamber. But when they arrived, they froze—the generator room was empty.

Huo Xuan struck from behind. Crashing two heads together with bone-shattering force, he left two men dead before they hit the ground.

A third fell to his fist before the others reacted. Guns swung wildly in the confined space, their bullets finding only friendly flesh.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Like a spectral dragon, Huo Xuan wove through the chaos. Every strike was lethal. These men—merely physically fit, not even Ming Jin practitioners—were no match for his An Jin-enhanced brutality. His fists could pulverize stone, his grip mold steel—what chance did ordinary soldiers have?

When the last guard collapsed, Huo Xuan faced the roaring generator. After a quick assessment, he raised his submachine gun.

Rat-tat-tat!

Critical components exploded in showers of sparks. The concussive ​BOOM of short-circuiting machinery plunged the entire base into blackness.