79: Chapter 79 The Tracker's Debut

Clark's call came in at two in the morning.

When Chen Feng picked up, there were no pleasantries from the other side.

"Chen, there's been an accident."

Chen Feng was leaning back in his office chair scrolling through the system panel; his movements paused slightly upon hearing the news.

"The Vanguard Bureau's chief virologist, Karl Heisenberg." Clark spoke rapidly. "When my people took over the Vanguard Bureau's underground experimental zone, they found that the cold storage on level B3 had been tampered with. Three vials of original virus samples from 'Project Black Sun' are missing, along with some undisclosed research data that old fox Stone didn't have time to destroy."

"When did this happen?"

"About six hours before we entered the scene. This guy is well-informed; the news of Stone being handcuffed hadn't even leaked yet, and he'd already slipped away with the goods."

Chen Feng leaned back against his chair. "Where did he run to?"

"East Country." Clark spat out the two words, pausing for a second. "The Pentagon intercepted an encrypted communication; Heisenberg has made contact with the East Country's military intelligence. The exchange location is a port city on the East Country's west coast—New Kobe. The buyer's identity is unknown, but the communication mentioned 'technology transfer' and 'exclusive development rights'."

Chen Feng narrowed his eyes.

East Country. A nominal ally of the U Federation and one of the most important pawns in the Asia-Pacific region. But this 'little brother' had indeed been restless lately. System intelligence had already flagged several instances of them making secret moves in the field of biotechnology.

"Your people can't catch him?"

Clark was silent for two seconds, his tone carrying a rare impatience. "He's using underground channels, traveling via civilian freighter routes. If I send people onto East Country territory to grab someone, the world's newspaper headlines will explode tomorrow."

Chen Feng understood.

It wasn't that Clark couldn't catch him, but that he couldn't pursue him. Conducting military operations on an ally's territory—even secret ones—carried an absurdly high political price. Moreover, the crowd in Congress was currently watching the military like hawks, and the mess at the Vanguard Bureau hadn't been fully cleaned up yet.

"It seems you need help." Chen Feng finished the thought for him.

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the line.

"Yes," Clark said decisively. "And it needs to be fast. My intel shows the trade window is within forty-eight hours. Once the samples fall into the hands of the East Country, they have the capability to replicate a low-end version of 'Ghost Protocol' within three months. By then, the trouble will be enormous."

Chen Feng didn't speak, his gaze falling on the system panel.

The status bar for B-05-01 'Nemesis' was glowing green.

[B-05-01 Status: On Standby]

[Combat Adaptability Assessment: Basic calibration complete, live-combat testing recommended]

Live-combat testing.

The corners of Chen Feng's mouth curled slightly.

"I happen to have someone suitable on hand," he said. "But I want everything Heisenberg took. The samples, the data—every single piece."

"Deal." Clark didn't hesitate for a second. "I'll handle the target's real-time positioning and the extraction route. Your... product, can it be airdropped?"

"It'll be fine even if it falls from the tenth floor. What do you think?"

Clark didn't ask any more questions and hung up.

Chen Feng pressed the internal comms button on his desk. "Marcus, go bring B-05-01 up. Fully armed."

Marcus's deep voice came through the communicator. "...Boss, which one?"

"The biggest one."

"Copy that."

Marcus didn't ask what they were doing, nor why it was two in the morning. He only needed to know that the boss had given an order.

Twenty minutes later, in the Umbrella Corporation's underground garage.

A specially modified heavy transport vehicle sat on the gray concrete floor with its rear doors wide open. Marcus stood by the vehicle, a large black crate behind him.

When Chen Feng stepped out of the elevator, the first thing he saw wasn't Marcus, but the massive, dark silhouette behind him.

B-05-01 stood beside the transport truck.

It wore a custom-made black trench coat—one Samantha had worked through the night to finish, woven from high-strength bulletproof fibers with several large slits on the sides for mobility. Beneath the coat, a metal pumping device was fixed to its chest, protecting the exposed, rhythmically pulsing external heart.

"The weapons are in the crate." Marcus patted the box. "Six thousand rounds of ammunition. Also, as per your instructions, boss, I added two shoulder-mounted micro-missiles. It took quite a bit of effort to get them."

Chen Feng walked up to the Nemesis and looked up at it.

At a height of 2.7 meters, Chen Feng could only look up at it. But B-05-01 showed no condescending arrogance—it lowered its head slightly, its grayish-yellow right eye quietly watching Chen Feng, lacking the emptiness of a Tyrant and the frenzy of a beast.

"Listen carefully." Chen Feng spoke at a measured pace. "The target is a human male, fifty-seven years old, medium build, missing the pinky finger on his left hand. He is carrying three virus samples and an encrypted hard drive. You need to bring these items back intact."

He paused for a moment.

"The target himself does not need to be brought back."

B-05-01 blinked its right eye.

A very low, short muffled sound came from deep within its throat. It wasn't a roar, but more like a primitive acknowledgment.

Marcus looked at the Nemesis, then at Chen Feng, and said nothing. But his hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel—this thing was more sinister than any weapon he had ever seen.

A new prompt popped up on the system panel.

[Mission Triggered: Death Delivery]

[Objective: Intercept the original 'Project Black Sun' samples and research data carried by the defecting scientist Karl Heisenberg]

[Reward: 20,000 R&D Points, Unlock 'Plaga Parasite' Basic Blueprint]

---

Twelve hours later. East Country, New Kobe.

High in the sky, forty kilometers from the coastline, an unmarked C-17 transport plane was flying at nine hundred kilometers per hour. There were no national markings on the fuselage; the registration information pointed to a shell logistics company registered in the Cayman Islands three months ago.

There was only one piece of cargo in the hold.

B-05-01 sat crouched on a mounting rack, the hem of its black coat trailing on the floor. A six-barreled Gatling gun lay across its knees, with the ammo box already attached. Two shoulder-mounted micro-missiles were secured to its back mount.

There were only two crew members. They were retired Air Force personnel arranged by Clark, signed to non-disclosure agreements and high pay. But from takeoff until now, neither had looked back once. It wasn't that they weren't curious; they didn't dare.

"Three minutes to drop point." The pilot's voice came from the cockpit, trembling slightly.

The cargo bay door slowly opened, and the high-altitude wind rushed in, causing the temperature to plummet.

B-05-01 stood up.

It walked to the edge of the bay door, looking down at the city lights below. At an altitude of seven thousand meters, an ordinary person would hesitate for a long time even with a parachute.

But it did not hesitate.

Its black coat billowed violently in the airflow as the massive 2.7-meter frame fell straight from the rear of the transport plane, disappearing into the night.

There was no parachute.

The freefall lasted for nearly a minute. When it was less than two hundred meters from the ground, the Nemesis completed its posture adjustment in mid-air—knees bent, upper body leaning forward—and smashed into the ground in an inconceivable stance.

Boom!

The concrete floor of an abandoned parking lot in the suburbs of New Kobe was smashed into a half-meter deep crater. Gravel flew everywhere, kicking up a cloud of dust.

As the dust settled, B-05-01 stood up straight from the crater.

It rolled its neck, its bones making a series of cracking sounds. The skin at the landing points on its legs had split open, revealing the dark red muscle fibers beneath—but the cracks were healing at a rate visible to the naked eye, returning to normal in less than ten seconds.

It raised its head, its grayish-yellow right eye glowing faintly in the darkness.

Visual systems activated.

Target biosignal—Locked.

Direction: Northeast, linear distance 2.7 kilometers.

The Nemesis began to move, not running, but gliding quickly through the shadows of buildings, its footsteps suppressed to almost nothing. Its 2.7-meter frame moved through the narrow alleys, the silhouette of its black coat blending into the night, leaving only a fleeting shadow in the blind spots where the streetlights couldn't reach.