84: Chapter 84 Termite Operation 1: Infiltration

"It seems three days is too long."

The broken piece of chalk was still caught between Yan Zheng's fingers, White dust staining the edge of his black gloves; he didn't look at the action schedule on the wall again, turned around, opened the safe, and took out the Operation Termite logbook.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ㅍ _ ㅍ )

"The plan is moved forward."

"Gentlemen, overtime."

On the south side of the Underground Room, three Reinforced Skeleton Soldiers—No. 4, No. 5, and No. 6—walked out from the niches; the metal fasteners between their joints clinked softly, a delicate sound that was clear up close but scattered into short echoes upon hitting the concrete walls.

Yan Zheng flipped to the last page, crossed out the original time, and rewrote it as 3:00 AM.

The tip of the pen pressed across the paper, and the ink, not yet dry, was smeared into a black streak by the edge of his glove.

"The high-activity samples in the target area are decaying."

"To put it in layman's terms, the goods are about to spoil."

"Materials at the level of X-23 spoiling in someone else's freezer counts as an industrial accident."

The phosphorus Fire of the No. 4 Skeleton Soldier flared up for a moment.

Yan Zheng raised his hand and tapped its frontal bone.

"Yes, Mr. No. 4, you will be the one to go in first tonight."

"Don't respond to me with this frequency of a death-in-line-of-duty application."

"You are just going to scout the path, not attend an urn product launch."

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ Ծ ‸ Ծ ˵ )

The Knight and the Brute remained in the storage area, their phosphorus fires not fully lit, maintaining only the lowest level of standby.

Yan Zheng wrote the disassembly instructions for the three Skeleton Soldiers into the Mental Link one by one, confirming the energy threshold for stealth mode.

The skeletons loosened as a whole.

Ribs, vertebrae, phalanges, and leg bones separated into small segments, still held together by Undead Energy.

Every piece of bone retained a faint perception, which was aggregated into Yan Zheng's mind.

This perspective was very uncomfortable.

It wasn't seeing a complete picture, but rather countless narrow fragments stacked together—pipe walls, Water stains, rust, crevices, wind direction, vibrations—every single bone was reporting its own position.

Yan Zheng pressed his temples.

"Very good."

"Multi-threaded control training, and stealing the base along the way."

"This trip won't be for nothing."

3:00 AM sharp.

Brooklyn Red Hook.

Two hundred meters east of the chemical plant, at the bottom of an abandoned loading platform.

Yan Zheng crouched in the shadows, wearing a waterproof cloak over his old jacket, the brim of his hat obscuring his gold-rimmed glasses, a black canvas bag placed at his feet.

The lights on the distant factory walls were shredded by the barbed wire; White light, Shadow, and the yellow light leaking from the corners of the walls piled up on the wet concrete, the colors shifting from gray to black, then gleaming coldly at the edges of the puddles.

The Water surface in the drainage ditch was dark, floating with oil films; the concrete edges were rough, the iron fence was mottled with rust, and the broken ends carried a damp, dark red.

Low-frequency mechanical sounds came from underground, thick and continuous, seeping out through the soil and pipes.

From the direction of the pier came the sound of a truck reversing, sharp and intermittent, becoming very thin after interlacing from far and near.

The wind carried the salty smell of seawater, the scent of diesel, the odor of disinfectant, and the medicinal smell of decaying protein.

Yan Zheng's knees pressed against the damp concrete, the cold seeping through the fabric; his gloved palms pressed against the ground, crushed sand grinding against the latex, the wall behind him giving him a bit of pressure, and the underground vibrations crawling up his leg bones along the soles of his shoes.

He bit into half an energy bar, which was hard upon entering his mouth; the cereal crumbs pressed against his tongue, and the syrup flavor took two seconds to disperse, leaving a bit of powdery residue in his throat.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ≖ ꈊ ≖ )

"Brooklyn midnight snack, two-star rating."

"No. 4, enter."

The No. 4 Skeleton Soldier disassembled by the edge of the drainage ditch.

White bone fragments moved along the ground, first the phalanges drilling into the loose part of the iron fence, then the ribs sliding in sideways one by one, and the leg bones dismantling into several sections to squeeze into the pipe along the narrow slit.

There was no complete body.

Only bones were walking.

The inside of the pipe was narrow and dark, Water flowing along the pipe walls, with chemical residues clinging to the bone surfaces, bringing a slight sensation of corrosion.

Yan Zheng felt the tactile sensation of every bone fragment through the Mental Link.

Wet.

Slippery.

The pipe wall was rough.

Rust stuck to the third rib.

"Shift left by two centimeters."

"Don't force it."

"Your current market value isn't high, but I also don't want to perform orthopedic surgery in a drainpipe."

No. 4 adjusted its direction, the ribs avoiding the rust and continuing to move forward along the edge of the Water flow.

Three minutes later, the pipe branched.

On the left, there was shallow Water with a heavy smell, like backflowing waste liquid.

To the right and downward, the sound of machinery operating was clearer—low-frequency, stable, and the space at the far end was larger.

Yan Zheng closed his eyes, suppressing all external sounds to the minimum, listening only to the echoes in the Mental Link.

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ ✧ ⌓ ✧ ˵ )

"Right side."

"There are machines deeper inside."

"A sample processing station can't possibly operate next to a sewer."

No. 4 slid down the right pipe.

The slope became steeper.

Several phalanges went first, scouting along the edge of the pipe wall, followed by the vertebral fragments in succession.

Water flow hit the bone surfaces, causing tiny vibrations.

Five minutes later, a vertical shaft appeared ahead.

At the top of the shaft was an exhaust vent, the metal mesh old and the corners loose.

There was wind on the other side of the pipe.

The wind was mixed with the metallic smell of refrigeration equipment, as well as the scent of cardboard boxes, machine oil, and cleaning agents.

Yan Zheng said in a low voice.

"Storage area."

"No. 4, remove the mesh."

A phalanx inserted itself into the edge of the metal mesh, gently prying open the latch.

The sound was very small, coming from the connection point of the objects; it was delicate and close, with most of the echo swallowed by the vertical shaft.

The metal mesh opened a crack.

White bone fragments slid down from the ceiling exhaust vent.

The first phalanx dropped onto the top of a shelf, the second rib fell into the gap of a cardboard box, and then more White bone fragments scattered silently.

Yan Zheng gained a new set of images.

The room was not big.

A warehouse.

Shelves on all four sides.

Metal boxes were stacked three layers high, each box numbered.

The surfaces of the boxes were matte, the corners worn, the latches freshly replaced, and temperature control labels were stuck on the sides.

The overhead lights were not on; only a strip of yellow light shone in from the crack in the door.

The light hugged the ground, illuminating dust and wheel marks.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ Ծ ᴗ Ծ )

"Numbered boxes, temperature control labels."

"Good place."

"Fury would probably count the tea money into the reimbursement form as well if he knew I found the storage room so quickly."

He raised his wrist to check his watch.

3:10 AM.

No. 4 had been in for ten minutes; there were no alarms, no communication changes, no energy interference, and no collapse of the undead structure.

E.S.S. had no anti-undead detection equipment.

At least not in the perimeter and storage area.

Yan Zheng reached out from under his cloak and snapped his fingers twice.

"No. 5, No. 6."

"Enter the pipe."

"Three-minute intervals."

"Whoever causes a traffic jam inside, I will turn into a sewer decoration."

No. 5 disassembled, its bone fragments drilling into the drain.

No. 6 waited by the side of the ditch, its phosphorus Fire suppressed to nothing but a dark green dot.

Yan Zheng split off three mental lines.

The first connected to No. 4.

The second connected to No. 5.

The third pre-connected to No. 6.

His mind now contained three sets of environments: the wet pipe, the warehouse, and the external street area.

Pressure began to mount, his temples tightened slightly, and the powdery taste of the energy bar in his stomach surged upward.

Yan Zheng raised his hand to press against the skin behind his ear, steadying his breathing rhythm.

"Mental Power 11, full-scale control."

"Operation Termite can still be sustained."

"Don't give me any trouble yet."

Inside the warehouse, No. 4 began searching for a reassembly point.

There was a blind spot behind the shelves.

There was a half-meter-wide gap between two rows of metal boxes; the camera's field of view was blocked by the boxes, and it couldn't be seen from the doorway.

After confirming the location, Yan Zheng gave the order.

"No. 4."

"Reassemble."

White bone fragments began to converge.

Ribs slid out from the gaps between the boxes, the spine pieced itself back together section by section along the midline, the leg bones connected to the pelvis, and the hand bones dropped from the top of the shelf, embedding back along the shoulder blades.

Reassembly countdown.

Thirty seconds.

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ ㅍ ꒳ ㅍ ˵ )

"You had better not drop the ball at the twenty-ninth second."

"I don't want to provide psychological counseling to a pile of bones."

Twenty seconds.

There were footsteps outside the door.

One step, two steps, stopping in front of the warehouse door.

The soles of boots stepped across the corridor floor, the sound dull, close, and the rhythm steady.

The keys hit the metal ring, the sound clear.

Yan Zheng's fingers paused on the clasp of the canvas bag.

Fourteen seconds left for reassembly.

The person outside picked up a walkie-talkie.

There was a crackle of static.

"Warehouse routine inspection."

"Received."

Yan Zheng didn't move.

No. 5 was still in the pipe.

No. 6 hadn't gone in yet.

No. 4 had only reassembled half its body, hiding behind the metal boxes, with the skull still missing two frontal bones.

The warehouse door lock turned.

Click.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ⌓ ꐦ )

"Gentlemen."

"The first appetizer of the night has arrived."