37: Steal some stones

The Colonel's knife tip poked a hole in the map: "You have so many subordinates, why bother me with such a small matter?"

Kozlovsky showed a mysterious smile, "This is no small matter; it concerns a huge business deal."

"Interesting." The Colonel licked the knife tip, "But you also have plenty of people who can do dirty work, don't you?"

"The location is Ke Er National Forest Park, not 'far' from the border," Kozlovsky said, pulling out a bottle of vodka. "You just need to go there, find three caves, and bring back some ore from inside."

Trotsky suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter like rusty hinges: "Ha! So you want my soldiers to be your miners?" He stood up, his military boots crunching on the carpet, "Go play this game with someone else, merchant."

"Ten million eagle dollars," Kozlovsky said softly, "plus a villa in the suburbs of Five Ports City."

The Colonel's body stiffened abruptly. He slowly turned, a greedy glint in his single eye: "Say that again?"

"Ten million eagle dollars, plus a villa in the suburbs of Five Ports City."

"Alright, I'm in." Trotsky sat back at the table, staring at Kozlovsky's face, "But I need to know why? A few broken rocks can't be worth that much."

Kozlovsky poured himself a glass of vodka: "Three days ago, my mother had a sudden heart attack in Emerald Principality. The specialists at Five Ports City Central Hospital, Professor Sergei, whom you know, said during her last check-up that if she had another heart attack, I could basically prepare for her funeral." He swirled his glass, "And now? She's still sketching in Mandala Palace in Emerald Principality, not even needing a wheelchair."

"As for the reason, you must have guessed it," Kozlovsky said, pushing a cooler in front of Trotsky.

Trotsky's single eye stared intently at the golden test tube, the knife scar on his cheek twisting into a grotesque shape. "You think I'd believe such a fairy tale?" He slammed his hand on the table, the solid wood dining table groaning under the strain.

Kozlovsky calmly took two test tubes from the box: "Then let's do an experiment." He pushed one of them towards Trotsky, "One for you, one for me. If it's poison, we die together. If it's real, you lose nothing."

The room fell silent. Outside the window, morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled shadows on the carpet. Trotsky's Adam's apple bobbed, his finger hovering above the test tube.

"What, is the 'Butcher' afraid?" Kozlovsky mockingly twisted open the seal on his own test tube. "To find the secret that can completely cure a seriously ill person, it's worth the gamble."

The golden liquid swirled in the glass tube, emitting a faint jasmine scent. Trotsky suddenly grabbed the test tube and drank it down. The moment the liquid slid down his throat, he widened his eyes. This wasn't the taste of a chemical agent, but his mother's honey cake from his childhood memories.

"Tastes good, doesn't it?" Kozlovsky also drank the agent, licking his lips, "Doesn't it taste like—"

A tingling sensation spread across his scalp, and his voice abruptly stopped. The roots of his white hair suddenly turned black, like ink spreading on rice paper. Even more astonishingly, his loose facial skin was visibly tightening at a rapid pace.

Trotsky felt an intense pain in his left eye, and he cried out, clutching his eye. Through his fingers, his eyeball, which had been numb for over a decade, was burning hot, and the necrotic optic nerve stung as if being gnawed by countless ants.

"Ah ah ah! Sukablyad!"

The pain suddenly turned into an intense itch, and he frantically scratched his cheek, scabs flaking off. When his fingers touched his left eyelid, he trembled—it was no longer an empty socket, but a full, pulsating eyeball.

Kozlovsky raised his phone camera: "See for yourself."

The man on the screen was a stranger to Trotsky: his left eye was perfectly restored, his scars had vanished without a trace, and even the rosacea caused by years of heavy drinking had returned to normal. He tremblingly touched his temples; his originally grayish hair had become dark and thick.

"This... this is impossible..." His voice sounded at least ten years younger.

Kozlovsky stroked his smooth chin in the mirror: "Believe me now?" He suddenly coughed violently, and blue filamentous matter appeared in the phlegm he coughed up.

Only then did Trotsky notice blue mucus seeping from under his fingernails, and a faint spiderweb of blue lines flickering beneath his skin. He fearfully rolled up his sleeve; the veins in his forearm had turned an eerie blue-green.

"Don't worry," Kozlovsky said, wiping the blue threads from the corner of his mouth. "Titan's doctors said this is a normal metabolic phenomenon and will disappear on its own after 24 hours."

"Now, shall we talk about the Ke Er Forest again?"

Only the crackling of firewood in the fireplace remained in the room. Trotsky grabbed the wine glass and drained it, his Adam's apple bobbing violently: "How many samples do you need?"

"Fifty kilograms of ore, and any relevant research materials," Kozlovsky said with a triumphant smile. "In return, I'll reserve a dose for your mother—she must be eighty-two this year, right? I heard her arthritis is quite severe..."

"Shut up!" Trotsky slammed his fist on the table, then took a deep breath, "I know some good hands from Wagner, they'll depart tomorrow. Also, I want double the samples, half for the military laboratory."

"Deal."

At a private airport on the outskirts of Five Ports City, Trotsky stood in the shadow of the hangar, his fingers constantly tapping on a brand-new titanium alloy briefcase. Inside the case were two million US dollars in cash, freshly taken from the black market—enough money to make anyone do his bidding, even Wagner's elite.

"Colonel, sorry to keep you waiting."

A low voice came from behind. Trotsky turned to see five fully armed men standing in the light of the taxiway. The bald man leading them, Colonel Sergei "Hammer" Ivanov, was Wagner's most renowned tactical Commander in Central Continent; the scar over his left eye was a souvenir from the Beacon Corridor battlefield.

"Did you bring the money?" Hammer asked bluntly.

Trotsky kicked the case at his feet: "Two million, half paid upfront as agreed." He pulled out a satellite map and spread it on an oil drum. "The target is in Ke Er National Forest Park, within Blackland Kelan, east of Slack City."

The mercenaries gathered around. The sniper "Crow" looked at the three locations circled in red pen: "These three caves?"

"Yes, the focus is on Cave No. 3," Trotsky said, his fingernail indenting the map. "Bring back as many ore samples from inside as you can."

The demolition expert "Firecracker" chewed gum and asked, "What kind of ore?"

"They say..." Trotsky paused, "the surface looks like leather and glows blue. Use these to store it." He took several lead-lined storage boxes from a shelf.

Hammer inspected the containers: "Radioactive material?"

"Just a precaution," the Colonel said with an impatient expression, "Are you in or out?"

The mercenary leader weighed the money-filled backpack and grinned: "Delivery in seventy-two hours."

The pre-dawn forest was shrouded in thick fog. Five figures moved silently along a dry riverbed, each wearing ordinary hiking clothes, with backpacks containing mineral collection tools, some weapons, and large storage boxes on the backs of three of them.

Meanwhile, at the edge of Ke Er National Forest Park.

Maxim crouched in a treetop, Carson's murmur coming through his earpiece: "Captain, what are we waiting for, feeding mosquitoes out here? We've been camping for three days already."

"Ensuring our 'friends' get what they're supposed to get," Irene's voice interjected. "My micro-drone just reported a heat signature approaching from two kilometers north, five people, carrying weapons."

Maxim and Carson simultaneously activated the displays inside their helmets. On the screen, a team of figures wearing civilian hiking clothes but moving with standard tactical steps was passing through the forest. The bald man leading them wore a black eye patch over his left eye, and his movements clearly indicated professional tactical training.

At noon, they reached the first marked point. Cave No. 1 was unremarkable, its entrance covered in vines. Crow pushed aside the vegetation with his dagger; his tactical flashlight only reached ten meters before hitting the back of the cave.

"Empty." He picked up a piece of ordinary limestone. "Unless they want this kind of broken rock."

Hammer checked the cave wall: "Someone's been here recently, but I don't know their purpose."

The situation in Cave No. 2 was similar, except for a few empty metal cans found deep inside, with blue crystals remaining at the bottom. The communications expert "Antenna" mumbled while taking a sample: "Smells like... jasmine?"

As the setting sun stretched the tree shadows, they finally found Cave No. 3. This cave was much deeper than the previous two, with clear tire tracks at the entrance. Hammer gave a tactical hand signal, and Crow and the medic "Bandage" stayed at the entrance as lookouts, while the others cautiously went deeper.

"Oh my God..." Firecracker gasped as his flashlight hit the cave wall.

The rock surface was covered in a leather-like substance, glowing with an eerie blue-gray sheen under the light. Hammer chipped off a piece with a ceramic dagger; the cross-section looked like a slice of black ham.

"Pack it up." He stuffed the sample into a lead box. "Smash off some more."

As they were collecting samples, 'Bandage's' warning came through their earpieces: "Attention! Something's happening outside the cave!"

The three quickly retreated, finding the lookout team staring at the nearby bushes. The grass there was shaking abnormally, and faint gnawing sounds could be heard.

"Just a wild rabbit." Crow relaxed his rifle, but the creature that appeared froze everyone in place.

It was indeed a rabbit, but it was as big as a Shiba Inu, with sleek, oily fur and eyes that glowed with an eerie blue light in the dusk. More astonishingly, there were five or six other rabbits of similar size nearby, gnawing on plants.

"Damn," Firecracker whispered, "do the animals here grow up on hormones?"

Hammer gestured for silence. They noticed an unusually large number of animals around the cave: plump field mice crowded in the bushes, abnormally large bats perched in the treetops, and even an unusually strong wild boar in the distance.

"Bring a few back," the Commander ordered. "Pick the largest ones."

Crow shot two rabbits and a bat hanging upside down at the cave entrance with tranquilizer darts, and these animals were then placed in special cages.

The return journey was smoother than the trip there. They arrived near the border, avoided the patrol, and boarded the waiting helicopter at the designated coordinates. The Commander tallied the spoils: three storage boxes of ore samples and three live animals.

"Mission accomplished." He said into the satellite phone, "Delivery in one hour, with some local specialties as a bonus."

"Well done." Trotsky was very satisfied with their efficiency. "Take the goods to the agreed-upon location, and you will receive the final payment."

At this time, in the central building of Titan Industrial City.

"The 'Glutton' squad reports that our unsuspecting friends will soon have what they want." Topaz transmitted the newly received message to the holographic projection in front of Emerald.

"Very good." Emerald glanced at the report, then waved her hand to turn off the projection. She walked over to the sofa, sat down, and poured herself a cup of tea. "The seed has been planted; now, we just wait for it to sprout and grow."