212: Chapter 212 Customizing Two Seeds

But this time, he didn't want an army pressing down on the borders.

He clicked on the rarely used [Advanced Death Soldier Customization Service]. This was a feature far more expensive than directly summoning Junior or Intermediate Death Soldiers, but it was also much more refined. Not only could he set the age, appearance, physique, and expertise of the Death Soldiers, but the system could also perform deep, almost causal-level "background implantation," ensuring they had a reasonable "past and present life" in the target region that could withstand investigation.

“System, customize two Advanced Death Soldiers,” Zhang Cheng muttered in his heart.

[Please set the parameters, Sovereign.] The system's cold, mechanical voice responded.

“First one: Male, age set around 40. Appearance: Typical local features of Gaza, dark skin, a face weathered by the elements with resolute lines, eyes sharp and hidden with grief and indignation. Lean and powerful physique, skilled in urban guerrilla warfare, demolition, intelligence network construction, and grassroots mobilization. Background implantation—” Zhang Cheng paused for a moment, combining the information from the news just now. “He secretly went to a military academy in a third country overseas (the specific country to be randomized and rationalized by the system). Because his hometown was attacked and his family perished, he returned home in anger. For many years, he has been secretly organizing resistance activities underground and has a certain reputation among survivors, but has not been listed as a top priority target by the Squid Nation's intelligence system. His name... will be ‘Sinwar’ (symbolizing ‘Hard Stone’).”

[Parameters recorded. Background implantation generating... Generation complete. Death Soldier ‘Sinwar’ now possesses a complete life trajectory memory and corresponding skills, conforming to a logical closed loop. Customization cost: 5,000 points.]

“Second one: Male, age around 35. Appearance: Mixed-blood characteristics of southern Yemen tribes, agile build, face slightly softer than the Gaza people but with a firm gaze. Skilled in mountain guerrilla warfare, ambushes, anti-armor operations, and tribal relationship coordination. Background implantation: He was born into an influential tribal family in southern Yemen and studied abroad (also rationalized by the system), receiving some formal military training. Some family members died in recent conflicts. He is full of hatred for Squid Nation and the forces behind it, active in the border tribal areas as an ‘overseas returnee officer,’ secretly gathering strength and waiting for the right moment. His name... ‘Houssa’ (symbolizing ‘Wind of Vengeance’).”

[Parameters recorded. Background implantation generating... Generation complete. Death Soldier ‘Houssa’ now possesses a complete life trajectory memory and corresponding skills, conforming to a logical closed loop. Customization cost: 5,000 points.]

[Tip: To ensure the customized Advanced Death Soldiers can quickly launch operations and integrate into the environment, each advanced customization service will automatically include 100 ‘Junior Death Soldiers’ of matching nationality and appearance, equipped with basic combat and infiltration skills (disguised as followers, villagers, refugees, etc.), to assist in establishing an initial team. This part of the gift does not consume extra points.]

Zhang Cheng felt reassured. The system had thought of everything. Sinwar and Houssa were the “seeds,” the soul figures, while the 200 gifted Junior Death Soldiers were the soil and nutrients necessary for them to take root and sprout quickly.

“Confirm exchange.”

[Points deducted: 10,000. Advanced Death Soldiers ‘Sinwar’ and ‘Houssa’, along with their affiliated Junior Death Soldier groups, are generating... Generation complete. Reasoned appearance locations and initial identities have been arranged according to the background implantation. Summoning commands can be issued at any time.]

His consciousness returned, and Zhang Cheng opened his eyes. The television had already switched to the next news item about the European economy. But those blood-colored images seemed to remain on his retinas.

Li Lanzhi asked softly, “Have you decided?”

“Mhm.” Zhang Cheng picked up his fork again, his tone returning to a flat calm, as if he had just decided on an ordinary administrative matter. “Send two ‘seeds’ to that land. What they can grow into depends on themselves, and also... on the will of heaven.”

He cut a piece of fried egg, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. Breakfast continued, but the atmosphere in the dining room had changed. The distant cries and explosions seemed to coexist eerily with the aroma of coffee here through the screen.

Deep underground in the Presidential Palace, in an absolutely soundproof secret room without any electronic monitoring equipment. This place was less a room and more a “cocoon” wrapped in a special alloy. The light source was soft cold-light strips embedded in the four walls, illuminating the central area brightly without producing any shadows.

Zhang Cheng sat on a simple metal chair. Old K, like the most loyal guard, stood silently half a step behind him to his side, his sharp eyes scanning the empty entrance. Li Lanzhi did not attend; Zhang Cheng intentionally kept her at a distance from this kind of meeting involving the deployment of “dark side” forces. Sometimes, the less one knows, the safer they are.

The air fluctuated slightly—not an airflow, but a sign of some spatial disturbance. Immediately after, two figures appeared without warning within the circle of light in the center of the secret room, as if they had always been standing there and had only just been illuminated.

The one on the left was the “Sinwar” Zhang Cheng had set. He indeed looked around forty years old, his skin a deep brown from years of exposure to the sun and wind. His face was thin with prominent cheekbones and deep lines at the corners of his eyes—marks carved by long-term tension, worry, and hatred. He wore a half-new jacket and cargo pants, with dust-covered boots on his feet, dressed like an ordinary, long-suffering middle-aged laborer. But his eyes were like a lone wolf lurking in the desert—calm, sharp, with a near-substantial grief and determination burning in their depths. Just standing there, it was as if one could smell the scent of gunpowder and blood. He nodded slightly toward Zhang Cheng, his posture respectful but carrying a composure forged through many hardships.

On the right was “Houssa.” He was a few years younger than Sinwar, his facial lines not as craggy, with a faint hint of mixed-blood characteristics from the tribes of the southern Arabian Peninsula. He had a high nose bridge and tightly pursed lips. He wore a set of multi-colored clothing similar to that of local tribal militants, with a bulletproof vest (without markings) casually thrown over it. An old, modified AK-series rifle hung at his waist, its stock worn to a shine. His stance was more agile, like a mountain leopard ready to pounce at any moment, and the hatred in his eyes was more outward, like a volcano about to erupt. When he looked at Zhang Cheng, besides absolute loyalty, there was a fiery intensity of having found a “wise lord” and being ready to do great things.

Behind them, at the edge of the light circle, there seemed to be more blurred silhouettes—projections of part of the affiliated Junior Death Soldier groups arranged by the system, symbolizing that they were not alone.