Invasion of the United States

Xiao Jinlang, under the guise of "procurement," cautiously avoided drawing attention from everyone in the shelter, and drove away in a nondescript SUV from the shelter converted from an abandoned playground.

He raced north along Virginia's Route 95 towards Washington D.C., not far away.

Along the way, he carefully selected three widely separated gas stations to purchase some ordinary living supplies.

Only after repeatedly ensuring there were no suspicious vehicles or individuals tailing him did he drive off the highway and park beneath the shadow of a remote overpass.

There was already a dark, old Ford sedan parked under the bridge.

When Xiao Jinlang approached cautiously, the Ford's driver's side window slowly rolled down, revealing an entirely unfamiliar white face.

His steps abruptly halted, and a chill raced from his spine to the top of his head, as if he had fallen into a meticulously arranged trap—could he have been lured into capture?

"Don't be nervous, Old Xiao, it's me, Zhou Qingfeng." A slightly hoarse male voice came from inside the car, speaking clear and standard Chinese.

The man wore a playful smile and waved at him, "Get in, let's talk slowly."

Xiao Jinlang didn't immediately approach; he squinted and examined the person inside the car closely again.

The middle-aged white man's eyebrows and facial contours vaguely captured traces of Zhou Qingfeng's features, but his skin color and hair color had completely changed, as if he belonged to a different race.

Noticing Xiao Jinlang's doubts, the person inside the car helplessly sighed and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the skin below the neck.

The pale skin was distinctly different in color from that of the face and neck, clearly indicating this was not his natural skin tone.

Covering the head, face, and hands was a thin, elastic latex mask, and beneath the clothes was the original yellow skin that belonged to Zhou Qingfeng.

Only then did Xiao Jinlang slightly lower his guard and sat in the front passenger seat, asking in surprise, "Xiaozhou, you didn't mention on the phone that you've changed into this look. What happened?"

"Old Xiao, don't you watch the news?" Zhou Qingfeng pulled out his phone and clicked on a few news items about the "White House" press conference, displaying a prominently featured photo.

Xiao Jinlang had been busy with shelter management recently and indeed hadn't paid much attention to outside events. As he took the phone, he read the news and his pupils suddenly enlarged.

"What does this mean? The person mentioned in the news is you?! You are Oliver Harden? How did you manage to infiltrate?"

"It's a long story."

Zhou Qingfeng sighed deeply, buttoned up his shirt again, and slowly recounted his bizarre experiences at the United States aviation and space museum, and how he stumbled into the underground hospital.

It's said that one should not be afraid of villains scheming but rather of fools having a sudden burst of brilliance.

Professor Hart, in charge of the underground hospital, was initially a meticulous scholar, yet even a wise person can make mistakes.

To free up more beds and save more patients, the desperate professor whimsically arranged for Zhou Qingfeng to take over as 'Oliver Harden.'

"As a result... nobody expected that I apparently did a good job, as 'White House' even called and asked me to serve as the Minister of the Ministry of Government Efficiency."

Zhou Qingfeng felt this matter was absurd and helpless.

Xiao Jinlang listened in amazement, as if hearing a bizarre and fantastical story, his mind blank. He couldn't believe it and asked, "Is Oliver Harden dead?"

"Yes, the body has been cremated," Zhou Qingfeng confirmed.

"What about his family? Friends? He couldn't just be an isolated symbol." Xiao Jinlang pressed on relentlessly.

"His parents have already passed away. He has an ex-wife who remarried with two sons under ten years old. I have his phone, his fingerprints, and iris information all recorded in my devices.

Harden indeed had some friends, but they all lived in Tennessee. These days, some called to inquire, but Shanni turned them away."

"That Professor Hart and Shanni... are they reliable?" Xiao Jinlang frowned deeply, his tone grave.

"It's hard to say, Old Xiao. I've known them for just over half a month, each with their own needs. At present, relations seem amicable," Zhou Qingfeng answered honestly.

Xiao Jinlang fired off a string of questions like rapid-fire, even reaching out to touch the thin latex mask on Zhou Qingfeng's face, finally heaving a long sigh:

"Oh my, we've worked in external affairs for so many years, yet never have I seen someone like you... effortlessly infiltrating the enemy's heart—no, you've practically drilled into the enemy's brain!"

Old Xiao's heart raced fiercely, and the man in his fifties now sat fidgeting like a freshly graduated young lad. "Xiaozhou, what are your plans now?" No!te+:# C$h*e#c.k M_#VLEM@P$Y_-R for any corre#ctio&ns.

Zhou Qingfeng in the driver's seat raised his head, his gaze unfocused, "I don't know what I should do, but I strongly want to do something."

He paused and spoke with bold, violent intent, "A few days ago, I was inside the 'White House,' surrounded by top United States cabinet officials.

I watched the back of their heads and necks, confident I could instantly take down a dozen or twenty of them."

While speaking, Zhou Qingfeng suddenly punched the air from the steering wheel with both hands, delivering a dozen punches in quick succession, breaking the air with a swooshing sound.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, Xiao Jinlang, despite being half a meter away, could clearly feel the fierce aura stirred by those punches.