Another training session.
Rapid Environmental Intelligence Gathering.
Tracker was sent into a simulated "unknown room."
Mission:
Memorize positions.Lock onto scent signatures.Return. Report.
He executed it flawlessly.
Came back—
Eyes bright.
Tail wagging.
Then—
He started…
Rolling.
Spinning.
Pawing the ground.
Pointing in random directions.
A full-body interpretive performance.
His own creation:
"Tracker Dance."
Silas Moore stared.
Silent.
Serious.
Unblinking.
Blue eyes filled with something rare—
Confusion.
He slowly raised a paw.
Pointed left.
Tracker went wild.
YES. YES. THAT WAY.
Silas tried another direction.
More excited nodding.
In the end—
Through sheer deduction…
Pattern mapping…
And understanding of Tracker's personality—
He got most of it right.
Old Wu scribbled in his notebook:
"Communication method requires simplification."
"Currently overly dependent on intuition…"
"…and abstract performance art."
The Most Embarrassing Incident
Happened during—
Non-lethal restraint training.
Old Wu put on full protective gear.
Played the "enemy."
Weapon: capture net.
Objective:
Disrupt.
Disable.
Disarm.
Formation:
Ironfang → frontal pressureBoulder → control and pullLightning → rear harassmentSilas → command
Everything went smoothly.
Ironfang charged—
BOOM.
Hit hard.
Old Wu staggered.
Boulder seized the net—
Pulled.
Lightning circled—
Distracting.
Victory was seconds away—
Then—
Disaster.
Old Wu stepped wrong.
His foot caught—
On the tunnel.
Yes.
That tunnel.
The one Ironfang got stuck in earlier.
Balance lost.
He fell—
Backwards.
Directly into—
The corner obstacle.
The one no one was paying attention to.
The one filled with—
Colorful plastic balls.
SPLASH.
Old Wu—
Fully armored—
Dropped straight into the ball pit.
Plastic balls exploded upward—
Swallowed him to the chest.
He tried to get up—
Failed.
Slipped.
Rolled.
Got stuck.
Like an overturned turtle.
Silence.
Ironfang.Lightning.Boulder.
All froze.
Then slowly walked over.
Stared.
Heads tilted.
Tails moving in confusion.
"New enemy tactic?"
"Buried himself?"
Tracker?
Different reaction.
He barked excitedly—
Jumped into the edge—
Started pushing balls with his nose.
Best day ever.
Silas Moore stood at the edge.
Looking down.
At Old Wu—
Struggling.
Sliding.
Dignity collapsing.
His blue eyes flickered.
First—
Surprise.
Then—
His facial muscles twitched.
Once.
Twice.
He turned his head slightly.
He was holding it in.
He was absolutely holding it in.
Lin Wan lost it.
Collapsed against the wall laughing.
Shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
Chen Lin walked over.
Face blank.
Reached in—
Dragged Old Wu out.
Old Wu—
Covered in colorful balls.
Suit damp.
Hair messy.
Soul… gone.
He radiated one thing:
"I no longer wish to exist."
Silas walked up.
Gently nudged his leg.
A low rumble.
Soft.
Almost…
Apologetic.
Or maybe:
"Try not to die like that next time."
Old Wu took off his helmet.
Two plastic balls still stuck in his hair.
He stared at Silas.
Then at the dogs.
Then—
He broke.
"Pfft—"
He laughed.
Shook his head.
"Damn it… I'm getting old…"
"Training's over! Everyone disperse!"
"And forget what just happened!"
Too late.
The legend spread instantly:
"Instructor got taken out by his own training setup."
It became:
Camp legendDaily joke materialPermanent black history
Old Wu could never escape it again.
Training Continues
Sweat.
Laughter.
Failure.
Growth.
The team sharpened.
Silas and the squad—
More synchronized every day.
Faster.
Cleaner.
Deadlier.
They began simulating:
Target tracking in chaotic environmentsClose-quarters combatRapid engagement shifts
This wasn't training anymore.
This was preparation.
For war.
Meanwhile… Intelligence
Chen Lin's side made progress.
Encrypted codes.
Coordinates.
Decoded.
Multiple overseas locations identified.
One stood out.
Pandora Life Sciences.
An offshore company.
Private island.
Heavy security.
Independent military force.
Bio-containment systems.
Research direction—
Matched the Disguise Agent.
Too perfectly.
Chen Lin pointed at the map.
"This is likely one of Entropy's core facilities."
"Production. Research. Everything."
He paused.
"Defense is tight."
"Direct assault? Impossible."
"Infiltration?"
He exhaled.
"Extremely difficult."
Silas Moore stared at the map.
Eyes narrowing.
He lifted his paw.
Drew a slow circle—
Around the island.
Then—
Tapped the center.
Once.
Target locked.
He looked at Chen Lin.
Then Old Wu.
Then—
Lin Wan.
His gaze didn't waver.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
He was going.
Not just to turn back.
But to end this.
To rip out Entropy—
At the root.
Lin Wan stopped brushing his fur.
Met his eyes.
Understood immediately.
She smiled.
Light.
Firm.
"Got it."
"You go—I go."
She patted his back.
"I've already survived this far with you."
"What's one more insane mission?"
Silas turned.
Pressed his nose gently into her palm.
No bargaining.
No conditions.
No canned food negotiations.
Just—
A silent promise.
And shared resolve.
Outside—
A storm was gathering.
Inside the underground base—
The pack sharpened their fangs.
Morale burning.
High.
Private armies?
Genetic monsters?
Secret island?
Doesn't matter.
Flip the island.
Then talk.