Strongest Soldier King

Lan Xue's kidnapping made the team leader terribly furious, and given Lan Xue's and Luo Zheng's relationship with the Song family, he could vaguely guess something, his expression so overcast it seemed water might drip from it. If this speculation were true, it would be horrifying. The team leader decided to notify Mr. Li as quickly as possible, unable to meddle in the high-level central game, but also unwilling to be left behind. He looked at Luo Zheng seriously and said, "We must rescue Lan Xue, not only for you but also for the honor of National Blade."

"Please rest assured, Captain, even if it costs my life, I will bring back Lan Xue," Luo Zheng swore solemnly, staking a man's dignity and pride.

"Good, I believe in you. You go ahead, keep yourself safe, buy some time, I will arrange for someone to follow quietly and assist. The honor and dignity of National Blade absolutely cannot be trampled on by anyone. This is our mission, and our responsibility. Even if it means sacrificing our lives, remember, you are a part of National Blade now, the nation's razor-sharp edge, fighting for the country, unsheathing for its people. We never kneel; we only fall in battle." Captain Wu said coldly.

"Yes, even in death, I will not tarnish the national emblem above my head," Luo Zheng responded with resolute determination.

"Go now. Change into ordinary clothes. You don't need to bring anything. A helicopter has been arranged to take you; someone will be waiting at the airport to facilitate your trip to Ba Country. Once there, there will be people to meet you. Be careful, and come back alive," the team leader saluted Luo Zheng solemnly, conveying his blessings and expectations in the military fashion.

"Await my news," Luo Zheng returned the salute formally, their eyes meeting in silent agreement, firm and decisive.

After leaving the team leader's office, Luo Zheng sprinted to the dormitory to change into plain clothes and boarded the helicopter that was already prepared. An hour later, the helicopter landed at a military base in Beijing. A car came quickly after confirming Luo Zheng's identity, immediately taking him to the International Airport.

At the airport gate, someone saw the military vehicle arriving and, glancing at Luo Zheng, handed over a passport, an air ticket, and a boarding pass without asking any questions. Luo Zheng looked -- the passport bore his name, the ticket was for Ba Country, and takeoff was in ten minutes. Acknowledging the other person with a glance, Luo Zheng got out of the car and walked briskly away.

Ten minutes later, Luo Zheng boarded the international flight soaring into the clouds. As he gazed at the leisurely white clouds outside the window, his heart was immensely heavy with worry; he was concerned about Lan Xue being subject to inhuman treatment or, worse, an accident. Anger flickered in his half-closed eyes, and his body emitted an icy aura naturally, causing nearby passengers to look for seats elsewhere in fright. There were plenty of empty seats, so finding another place to sit was not a concern.

"Stay calm; you must stay calm. Impulsiveness will only lead you to lose sound judgment, making things worse," Luo Zheng cautioned himself. Gradually, the anger in his eyes cleared significantly, his expression softened, and he began to ponder over the upcoming rescue plan.

Information was limited; he only knew that the kidnappers were armed militants of unknown identity. Ba Country had many armed groups appearing to the outside world as guerrillas or restoration organizations, but at their core, they were private militias seeking personal gain. For these people, money could motivate them to do anything. Kidnapping was child's play for them. If the Song family really had initiated this, Luo Zheng had to find a way to gather sufficient evidence this time. He could not afford to be passive any longer.

By the time the flight landed in Ba Country, it was the next morning. After passing through customs, a middle-aged Chinese man approached him proactively, speaking fluent Mandarin with warm greetings, "Are you Luo Zheng?" Luo Zheng was an alias, chosen for its phonetic likeness to his real name to help conceal his identity, and Luo Zheng thought it was a decent name.

"Who are you?" Luo Zheng appraised the man noncommittally. He had a square face, short hair, wore gold-rimmed glasses, his complexion somewhat rosy, and was dressed in a smart suit, giving off the air of a scholar—one who definitively was not a soldier but likely someone accustomed to doing clerical work in an office for a long time.

The middle-aged man was sizing up Luo Zheng too, noticing his casual shoes and sports outfit, his skin dark and shiny from constant sun exposure on the beach, making him not look typically like a member of the Yellow Race. If he wore sunglasses and a windbreaker with a hat, he would be mistaken for black from a distance. But the man didn't probe further; instead, he handed Luo Zheng a travel backpack, seriously stating, "Inside are things you will find useful; contact me if you need anything."

"Thank you." Seeing the other man did not introduce himself, Luo Zheng didn't bother to inquire further. Since the team leader arranged this, the man was either from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or a special agent, with sensitive identity issues unlikely to be disclosed. Grateful, Luo Zheng nodded and smiled at the man.

The middle-aged man looked around and left without a trace. Luo Zheng went outside to an inconspicuous spot, opened the backpack, and found a clean set of clothes, a SIG P220 pistol, an M9 bayonet, two spare empty magazines, a satellite phone, a packet of bullets, a map, and some cash, among other items.

Luo Zheng briefly examined the pistol, having tested this model, touted as the best handgun, during armed training with the team. The grip was made of aluminum alloy with a matte black anodized finish, featuring infrared aiming, with a firing speed of 345 meters, a 9-bullet capacity, and high precision. With this gun for self-protection and the M9 bayonet, Luo Zheng felt somewhat reassured.

After examining the map for a while, Luo Zheng quickly located Mogan Town, which was far from the airport; traveling there by car would take at least half a day. After deliberation, he packed up his belongings and, donning the hood of his casual sports outfit and putting on his sunglasses, he hailed a taxi from the roadside.

The taxi driver was chatty, asking Luo Zheng where he was from and what he was going to do in Mogan Town. Of course, Luo Zheng was not going to tell the truth, and lied, saying he was from Sam Country visiting relatives in Mogan Town. The driver's response grew even warmer, lavish in his praise of Sam Country's wealth and democracy, as opposed to Ba Country's authoritarian and poor state.

Knowingly versed in speaking with different folks, the taxi drivers in Ba Country had the skill of saying what their listeners wanted to hear. Luo Zheng obviously didn't take it seriously but feigned curiosity, asking, "Are there any fun places in Mogan Town?" He chuckled intentionally, in a way, that men would understand.

"Oh, there are plenty, but they're not as free as in some countries; they're still very tightly regulated. Everyone just does it sneakily. But don't worry, those places all have backing, so the government turns a blind eye to avoid trouble as long as things don't get out of hand. It's very safe," the driver explained cheerfully, with a knowing look.

"Safe? Hardly," Luo Zheng laughed mockingly.

"Why not? You sound like a newbie, unfamiliar with how things work here. Let me tell you this, Mogan Town has several nightclubs that are under the control of one armed group, and it's the same in several other towns as well. If there were any disturbances, the government wouldn't be able to settle it. And with the hefty taxes, they more or less ignore it," the driver chuckled.

"Oh?" Luo Zheng's eyes brightened, and he formulated a plan.