Wei Zhao could not help worrying a little at such a carefree, slapdash manner—but Brother Dafeng was the sort of rough man with a fine grain hidden in him, and his experience of the world was vast. With a bit of caution, protecting himself ought to be no trouble at all. There was no need for Wei Zhao to fret unduly.

While there was still time before the central headquarters' private craft arrived, Wei Zhao briefed Brother Dafeng on a few more matters concerning the Primordial Alliance. It was easy to foresee that the people at central headquarters would be sure to ask about such things. If Brother Dafeng appeared utterly ignorant, it would mean he had lost his value—and then not only would it be hard to probe any deeper into the core secrets, but, more crucially, even his own safety would become impossible to guarantee. A worthless piece of refuse, after all, has no human rights to speak of.

Of course, Wei Zhao could not tell him too much either. Otherwise, one careless slip of the tongue would make him seem unnatural, and flaws would show all too easily. What he could know and what he could not—that gatekeeping was something only Wei Zhao could do for him.

When all was in readiness, two hours later a helicopter appeared above the cruise ship. Brother Dafeng exchanged a glance with Wei Zhao, who was hidden in the shadows, drew a deep breath, and climbed the rope ladder. The helicopter did not linger; soon it had dwindled to a tiny black speck.

"A helicopter? Can the central headquarters really be so close to this place?" Wei Zhao was secretly rather surprised, though he overturned the thought at once. A helicopter's flight radius was indeed very limited, but no one had said this helicopter would carry Brother Dafeng straight to central headquarters. Perhaps it was only the first leg.

And indeed, Wei Zhao's guess proved entirely correct: the helicopter was only the first leg. After Brother Dafeng was dropped straight down onto a clearing in a remote stretch of old-growth mountain forest, a small transport plane soon appeared overhead—and a military transport at that, equipped with vertical takeoff and landing capability. The hardware left Brother Dafeng gaping, though on second thought, a central headquarters so unfathomable would regard even this as a trifle.

When the transport landed, the hatch opened automatically to reveal a fully sealed cabin. There were some entertainment facilities inside, a television and the like, but not so much as a single window through which one might glance outside.

Brother Dafeng deliberately lingered outside, waiting a long while. He had meant to get friendly with the pilot and, with a bit of luck, perhaps wring out some useful intelligence in advance—the precise location of central headquarters, say. But instead of a pilot, what came was an electronic voice urging him over and over to board.

Brother Dafeng stood dumbstruck for a moment, then stealthily circled round to a rise ahead and took a look. Only then did it dawn on him that the damned thing was unmanned—no wonder no one had come down all this time to greet him.

With no other choice, Brother Dafeng boarded rather glumly. Sure enough, the moment he stepped into the cabin his phone signal dropped to zero, and even satellite navigation was useless. He had meant to use that means to record the flight path and the location of central headquarters—plainly he had been thinking far too much of himself.

The flight lasted a full half day. Brother Dafeng dozed off in a muddle, and when he woke the plane had already landed. Stepping out of the hatch for a look, he was struck dumb all over again. Still no phone signal. Still no use for satellite navigation. And before his eyes there was no terrain or landmark of any kind to help judge his position—because this was an underground airfield.

"So you're Dafeng? Come with me. Dr. Spectacles is waiting for you," said a man in a white assistant's uniform, coming over to greet him.

"Oh. Right." Brother Dafeng hurried after him. He did not know who Dr. Spectacles was, but he could more or less guess—most likely this was his own superior.

He followed the man through the airfield into a high-speed elevator. A moment later the doors opened. Brother Dafeng rubbed his eyes at the bustling scene before him and asked instinctively, "This is central headquarters?"

"That's right. This is central headquarters," the man said with a nod.

Over the years, Brother Dafeng had imagined central headquarters countless times. In his mind, an organization as unfathomable and tightly run as the Center would surely have a headquarters bristling with guards, a gathering place of titans, where any passerby would be some infamous fiend. Yet the scene before him was nothing of the sort.

A vast hall, with all manner of people coming and going—men and women, old and young, of every description. Their only common trait was that nearly all wore white lab coats, and each seemed desperately busy, discussing problems even as they walked, in tones that sounded highly academic and profoundly abstruse.

Above the various exits around the hall were marked the names of the sections: Human Body, Biochemistry, Intelligence, Weapons... Evidently these were the research directions of each section.

Brother Dafeng could not help swallowing hard. This was no central headquarters out of anyone's imagination—it was nothing short of a cutting-edge scientific research base!

"Let's go. Dr. Spectacles has limited patience," the man said, urging him on from ahead.

"Oh, right, right—so is it just researchers here?" Brother Dafeng probed casually.

"This floor is in charge of research. As for what other departments and people there are, I don't know either, but they must be on other floors. Unless there are special circumstances, one may not go to other floors at will. And of course, you can't wander freely through the various lab zones on this floor either. I imagine Dr. Spectacles will give you an access card in a bit—where you can go and where you can't, just swipe the card and you'll know," the man explained.

"All right." Brother Dafeng was rather disappointed. It seemed that even having reached central headquarters, digging out truly valuable core intelligence would not be so easy.

The man led Brother Dafeng to the door of a research office. After swiping in, Brother Dafeng was met face to face by a middle-aged man wearing enormous black-framed glasses—dark and gaunt, with a gaze exceedingly sinister and sharp.

"All right, go see to your work. Sample Seven's condition is a bit unstable—go and change his bottle of sedative," Dr. Spectacles instructed. Then he turned to Brother Dafeng. "Dafeng, first time at central headquarters. What are your impressions?"

Hearing that familiar hoarse voice, Brother Dafeng only now felt certain the man was indeed his superior. He hastened to answer with proper respect and a solemn face, "Reporting to my superior: it feels rather different from what I expected. It looks like a research base."

"Precisely. This is a research base. Do you know why I had you transferred here?" Dr. Spectacles said with a smile.

"Uh, no." Brother Dafeng shook his head.

"Because we're about to establish a Primordial Research Team here. This project is very important, and I named you to join it—consider it a chance for you to rise to glory. So long as you do well here, being the head of the Red Conch branch will be so much passing cloud. Only here is the golden road closest to the pinnacle of power," Dr. Spectacles said, his voice dripping with enticement. (To be continued.)