Jack strolled around the base, nodding in satisfaction. The place looked pretty damn good.
He soon entered the Combat Lab and happened to catch a drone bombing run in progress.
Finding it boring as hell, Jack casually took over the controls and piloted the drone himself.
When he finally left, the entire squad watched him with admiration.
The drone, meanwhile, probably wished it had just rusted to death back in the factory.
Next, Jack entered a room that had been specially converted into an orphan training facility. Inside, dozens of children were drilling.
Those who failed the test weren't killed on the spot—but they still got a taste of the whip.
After that, Jack headed to the War Monitoring Room to review the latest battlefield footage.
"Is that Dadong over there?" he asked.
On the screen were several dozen soldiers in police uniforms standing guard. Their bearing and movements made it obvious they were locals.
"Yes, sir."
Jack frowned. "Why are they on the border? I told them not to cross it."
"Marshal, our men are blocking the gate to stop hostile forces from setting up camps along the frontier. If they dig in, fighting will get messy."
"Smart move," Jack said. "But stay sharp. Those bastards are insane—they won't hesitate to strike right on the border."
"Understood, Marshal. We've deployed personnel within a three-kilometer radius. Beyond that, drones maintain a ten-kilometer sweep—no blind spots."
Jack patted the soldier's shoulder. "Good work."
"Any live combat footage?"
"Yes, sir. One moment."
The feed switched.
On-screen, multiple squads of armed militants launched a coordinated assault on an outpost, firing from all directions.
After suffering heavy casualties, they finally took the position thirty minutes later. The surviving defenders were squatting with their hands on their heads when a helicopter flew over and dropped a supply crate.
The attackers organized a team to retrieve the new armor, while the captives were forced to wear the old vests.
Ten minutes later, over a dozen helicopters hovered above them.
"Everyone grab the ladder."
Veterans climbed onto the ropes first, securing their safety locks. The rookies followed suit, copying their movements.
"All units depart. Target coordinates uploaded."
"Roger."
The helicopters lifted off, each rope dangling more than twenty men. Nearly three hundred militants were being transported to the next outpost.
In the sweltering Southeast Asian heat, the wind rushing past their bodies felt like mercy.
"Rat-tat-tat—!"
Gunfire erupted as some idiots opened fire upward, shooting toward the helicopters.
They were silenced almost instantly.
"Two, that was your ladder. His rounds hit my windshield."
Pilot Two replied calmly, "Request confirmation."
Another voice came over the comms. "Confirmed. You're clear to release."
"Roger."
The captain and co-pilot of Helicopter Two exchanged a glance and pressed the button marked with a lightning symbol.
Instantly, everyone on that ladder lost their grip—except for one man still clinging on.
"Two, you've got one left," someone laughed. "Let's bet how long he lasts. I say three shocks."
"Next zap," another pilot said confidently.
Bets flew around.
Finally, the co-pilot hit the button again.
"Pathetic. Couldn't even hold on."
"Haha—pay up when we get back."
No one mourned. It was only a hundred bucks.
They were laughing.
The guy who fell? Not their problem.
Jack silently took out a hundred U.S. dollars and handed it to the duty controller.
"Thanks, Marshal."
"Work hard," Jack said coldly, "and I'll make sure you get yourself plenty of wives."
"Much appreciated, Marshal," the man grinned. "I like them young."
Jack snorted. "Relax. Legal young—not cut-cock-go-to-hell young."
…
Jack was assigned a bunk. When he opened his eyes again, dusk had arrived.
He stepped outside, watching the soldiers move with efficiency and discipline. Satisfied, he decided to interrogate the Four Great Families locked in the cells.
An hour later, Jack walked out of the interrogation room, flicking blood off his trousers.
"Damn it. Got blood all over myself again," he muttered. "Next time, don't kill them in anger. Squeeze every last drop of value out of them first."
"Yes, sir. We'll remember the Marshal's teachings."
"Send the minors for re-education, then into training," Jack said.
Pointing to the other side, he added, "The rest go to the mines. Can't kill everyone—someone has to work."
That evening, Crossbones finally returned.
Jack greeted him with immediate hostility.
"You're a commander. Why the hell were you on the front line? You think you're Captain America with a vibranium shield?"
Crossbones answered stubbornly, "Marshal, I don't want to sit behind a desk. I want to fight."
Jack stared at him, speechless. This idiot wanted to throw his life away.
"Fine," Jack said finally. "I'll appoint a new commander. You'll be his deputy."
"Thank you, Marshal." Crossbones snapped a crisp salute.
Jack rested for two more days, recycled another batch of demons, and prepared to leave.
[Thousand Gullies: 163/1000]
[Check-in successful — Skill acquired: Plant Evolution]
[Plant Evolution: Allows plants to evolve in any chosen direction, depending on stamina consumption.]
On his last day at the HYDRA base, Jack finally got a decent skill.
On the plane, he stared at a decorative plant, unscrewed the pot, and activated Plant Evolution.
The jasmine immediately began to swell. What had once been palm-sized grew until it was as large as Jack's head.
He tried activating the skill again.
Nothing happened.
After studying it, he figured it out—the soil had completely run out of nutrients.
The once-dark soil had turned pale and dead.
No nutrients, no evolution.
With no spare soil on the plane, he could only give up for now.
An hour later, Jack landed in Yinxi and took a deep breath.
"That smell," he muttered. "Damp and rotten."
He hurried into the Yinxi Base. The humidity was unbearable.
Inside, a stranger stepped forward to greet him.
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