EM Chapter 6. Base

It was deep into the night by the time Song Feng and his team arrived in the United States.

“Two fifty-two in the morning,” Song Feng said, hands in his pockets, eyes on the time display above the airport entrance. “The base has long shut down. If we go back now, we’ll have to climb a wall that’s several meters high and fight off a pack of mangy dogs.”

The other three didn’t say a word. They waited for him to decide.

Song Feng grinned. “Waking someone from a sweet dream would be way too rude. It’s just past noon in Beijing. None of you are tired, right?”

All three nodded.

Song Feng didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go find a bar.”

The group slung their arms around each other and headed out, ready to enjoy the night. They didn’t return to the company until noon the next day.

The company compound covered four square kilometers and had complete facilities. Near the residential area, a small artificial lake had been built, with several winding branches looping out and flowing back in to create a closed circuit.

They strolled through the front gate without hurry. In the open area before the main building, a crowd had already gathered.

Wei Xiaoyan raised an eyebrow. “More rookies, huh.”

Becoming a mercenary wasn’t hard. You just had to sign up and pass the screening. After that, there was a unified training program. If you made it through, you could start taking jobs. But most people couldn’t clear the bar. On average, only one out of ten made it through the training. The rest quit early, unable to handle the pain.

Song Feng had built a solid reputation over the past two years. His missions were high quality, and his standing in the company had gone up. He was now an instructor, in charge of training new recruits.

He glanced toward the crowd with a smile. “Wonder how many will stick this time. Too bad I’ve got a job to run. I won’t make it in time.”

They walked straight through the crowd, unconcerned. Around them were mostly tall, muscular white men. The moment Song Feng and his group appeared, heads turned and disbelief spread through the crowd.

“Asians? Are they new?”

The reaction was understandable. American PMCs usually recruited selectively, and their personnel were highly trained. Next to the others, Song Feng’s group looked ridiculously undersized. Like a bunch of teenagers who wandered into the wrong place.

On the third floor of the main building, two men stood behind a window. One of them wore a black suit, looking down from above.

“That’s them?”

“Yeah,” said the man in uniform standing beside him, also looking down. The longer he watched, the more out of place those few looked among the crowd below. Almost pitiful. He could not help adding, “But they’re supposed to be pretty good.”

“Oh?” the man in the suit replied. “I’ve got an idea.”

Down below, the crowd continued to stare openly at Song Feng’s group. One of them could not hold back anymore. He stepped forward and jeered.

“Hey, kids. You lost or something? This isn’t your playground.”

Song Feng’s expression didn’t change. He walked right past the man without even pausing. The other three followed, not bothering to turn their heads. It was as if the guy blocking their way was nothing more than trash on the ground.

The man stiffened. Laughter erupted around him.

“Totally ignored. Damn, Hobbit.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. Maybe they don’t even speak English. Right, Hobbit?”

“Hahahaha!”

“Fuck!” the man roared and charged forward, stepping in front of Song Feng again, clearly trying to save face.

“You little punks. I’m talking to you.”

Song Feng finally lifted his eyes. His tone stayed calm.

“I’ll count to three. You’d better get out of the way.”

Hobbit sneered. “Or what?”

Song Feng did not even acknowledge him.

“One… two…”

“Fuck!” Feeling humiliated, the man swung at him with full force, his punch slicing through the air toward Song Feng’s face.

“Three.”

The moment the word left his mouth, Song Feng caught his wrist.

His hand was pale and clean. By Western standards, it could almost be called delicate. But that hand caught the punch like it was nothing. From the side, the motion looked effortless. Some even thought maybe the punch was weak.

Then everything blurred.

There was a sharp thud.

In the next instant, the man, weighing over ninety kilos, flew backward from a single front kick to the chest. He slammed into the ground four meters away and landed in front of the main building doors, twitching uncontrollably.

The crowd collectively sucked in a breath.

Hands in his pockets, Song Feng stepped forward. Hobbit’s face had gone pale. He coughed a few times, struggling to swallow back the blood rising in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Song Feng approaching. He instinctively shrank back, then gritted his teeth and used the doorframe to haul himself upright.

“Well, still moving. Not bad, rookie. Guess you’re lucky. I haven’t had breakfast yet today,” Song Feng said with a smile, glancing around the silent crowd.

“Here’s a piece of advice, rookies. Wipe your damn eyes clean next time. Not every instructor here has a temper as good as mine. Got that?”

The moment the words left his mouth, it was like a grenade had gone off. The crowd erupted.

Song Feng ignored them and turned to keep walking. Hobbit looked like he had seen a ghost. He kept backing away until he had unknowingly stumbled into the lobby of the main building.

Just then, he suddenly froze.

A second later, his whole body was sent flying forward.

Song Feng and the others stepped aside.

Hobbit flew right past them and hit the concrete floor with a loud slap, arms and legs splayed out. He twitched twice and stopped moving.

The crowd gasped again and all looked up.

Standing inside the lobby was a man in camouflage. He was the one who had just kicked Hobbit across the room.

Song Feng looked over and grinned.

“Hey, Rick. Any chance lunch is early today? I’m starving.”

“You should ask the cafeteria,” Rick replied with a smile.

He held a clipboard in his hand and walked to the entrance. Reading off a list, he raised his voice.

“The following names, step forward.”

The crowd instinctively cleared a space. Someone dragged Hobbit out of the way. Twenty men stepped forward and lined up neatly.

Song Feng raised an eyebrow.

“Military backgrounds?”

Rick nodded. “All branches.”

He threw an arm around Song Feng’s neck and pulled him into the open area. Then he waved the other three over.

Wei Xiaoyan and the others were confused but followed.

Song Feng smiled. “What’s this about?”

Rick gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry, Song. You’ll have to move around a bit before lunch.”

“Oh?”

Rick turned and faced the twenty men.

“You’ve got ten minutes. Figure out a way to take down these four. If you can’t, you’re out. No more training. Pack up and leave.”

He checked his watch.

“Now. Begin.”

The four were stunned.

And a moment later, they were swearing loudly as the soldiers swarmed them.

Song Feng dodged the incoming punch, twisted at the waist to avoid a kick from another man, then drove his knee hard into the attacker’s gut. At the same time, he swung an elbow into the man’s neck. He tossed him aside and moved on to the next one, cursing as he fought.

“Rick, you better give me a damn good explanation for this.”

“Song, this wasn’t my idea.” Rick lit a cigarette and watched with interest. “Your next employer is making their pick. If you want the money, just do the job. God willing, you might even survive.”

Song Feng kept swearing under his breath but had no choice but to accept it.

In a real fight, a few seconds could decide life or death. Here, they were holding back. No one was supposed to die. Still, the soldiers were wary of them from the start, which made taking them down a pain in the ass. And Song Feng could tell that at least five of them had special forces backgrounds.

No food, blazing heat, ten full minutes of brutal fighting. Song Feng was ready to throw a grenade at this unseen employer and blow them straight to hell.

“Time’s up,” Rick said, stepping over the fallen soldiers with a smile. He clapped his hands.

Song Feng was drenched in sweat. He caught his breath and looked up at Rick with a smile. But the light in his eyes was still sharp, almost eerie. Rick felt a chill run down his spine and wisely changed the subject.

“Your employer is waiting in the office. Head up.”

Song Feng gave a lazy hum. “Tell the cafeteria to prep lunch.”

“Got it,” Rick replied immediately.

Song Feng nodded and led Wei Xiaoyan and the others toward the main building. The crowd stared at them in a mix of awe and dread.

Behind them, Rick’s voice carried across the lot.

“The ones who can still stand, stay. The rest of you, pack your shit and get out.”

They climbed to the third floor and pushed open the office door.

Their boss was sitting behind a leather-topped desk. He smiled.

“Not bad.”

Song Feng gave a slight smile. His gaze shifted toward another man in the room.

The man looked around twenty-four or twenty-five. He had sharp, well-defined features and a handsome face. His expression was calm, revealing nothing. Even just sitting there, he gave off a composed, heavy presence.

It was clear he was not ordinary.

“Let me introduce you. This is Mr. Shao.”

Song Feng nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

The man looked over. The others who had fought earlier were all carrying some injuries, more or less. Only this man in front of him had come through unscathed.

He gave a small nod.

“Nice to meet you.”

Song Feng paused for a moment, clearly not expecting a reply from the man. But the man turned away, looking to the one behind the desk.

“He’s the one.”

Song Feng raised an eyebrow and looked to the boss. So it all came down to picking one? The boss glanced at him and gave a small nod. Then he paid him no more attention, smiling as he signed the contract.

Song Feng stood there in silence.

The man quickly put down the pen, then turned to Song Feng.

“I’ll brief you later. Let’s go.”

“Go?”

The man raised an eyebrow slightly and looked at him calmly.

Song Feng spoke slowly and lazily. “I need a shower, a meal, a full night’s sleep, and a beauty to give me a shoulder rub.”

The man remained calm. “The first two are fine. You can sleep on the helicopter. As for the last one, I’ll get you one after we arrive.”

Satisfied, Song Feng bounced over and gave him a hug.

“Damn, lucky me. Got myself a boss with a good temper.”

The man behind the desk turned his head away with a twisted expression. The other one remained still.

“You’re hugging me just to smear your sweat on me and get back at me for that little ‘test,’ aren’t you?”

Song Feng gave a dry cough and finally let go.

“What are you talking about? I’m not that petty. Seriously.” He waved his hand and took his three underlings off for a shower. After a hearty meal, he was promptly dragged onto the helicopter by the new boss.

“Where are we headed?”

“Malaysia.”

Song Feng raised an eyebrow. He vaguely remembered that someone’s infamous lover was Malaysian. Maybe they would run into them.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

The man gave a brief hum and pulled out a stack of documents.

“Take a look.”

Song Feng began reading through the basic information, memorized everything carefully, then closed his eyes and went to sleep. After a long journey and a final leg by helicopter, Song Feng woke just as they touched down on the helipad at the Shao family estate in Malaysia. Dressed in a suit, he followed silently behind the boss, playing the part of an assistant.

The Shao family had significant influence in Malaysia. Their estate was grand and extravagant. Song Feng looked around with interest, and as they passed through the garden, he suddenly pointed at someone in the distance.

“Wow, Boss, is that your sister? What a beauty. Damn. A celestial goddess, eyes like autumn water, the perfect bloom of girlhood—”

The man cut him off calmly. “She is my fiancée.”

Song Feng’s voice died in his throat.

The man turned to him, looking exceptionally patient.

“It’s a political marriage. Her surname is Liu, from a major family. If you think you can dismantle the Liu family’s entire influence and wipe out her relatives, I’ll hand her over to give you a shoulder rub.”

Song Feng clutched his fragile heart. “No, no, absolutely not. A gentleman does not steal another man’s love.”

“You don’t have to worry. There are no feelings between us.”

“Still no. Thanks for the offer, though.”

The man made a quiet sound of acknowledgment and continued walking. Song Feng patted his little heart and trailed along behind him, step for step.