Extreme germ phobia

Chapter 343 New Plan
A few days ago, somewhere in North America.

A waning moon hangs obliquely in the sky, with a few stars dotting the surroundings.

Under the faint moonlight, a Gothic manor stood alone deep in the mountains, surrounded by walls and barbed wire.

Outside the wall, three layers of barbed wire were interlocked. Every so often, infected people would hang on the barbed wire, the sharp iron spikes digging deep into their flesh, but they didn't care at all. They used their hands and feet to move desperately toward the manor.

The more they struggled, the tighter the barbed wire became, until they were completely entangled and unable to move.

Some infected individuals have lingered for so long that they have become human-shaped culture media covered in mycelium, yet no one has removed the mycelium.

The surveillance cameras mounted on the wall had long since stopped working due to the power outage. Only the guards, carrying guns, patrolled back and forth, their eyes sweeping over the infected people outside the wall, but their eyes showed no emotion whatsoever.

They were already used to all of this and took it for granted.

In the center of the manor, the large main building is hidden in the darkness, with only a few windows letting out flickering candlelight. At first glance, it looks like a ghost castle from a Western horror story has come to life.

The brightest row of windows is on the third floor, where the main building's restaurant, which also serves as a conference hall, is a place only senior members of the organization are qualified to enter.

The guards around always subconsciously looked over, trying to guess what the leaders of the organization were discussing.

On the edge of the second floor, a large, ornately carved window quietly opened, and a figure dressed entirely in black nimbly darted out.

He clung to the wall like a gecko, using his hands and feet to carefully move sideways before climbing upwards.

Slow footsteps came from around the corner. The person immediately stopped, hanging motionless on the wall like a ghost, blending into the dark environment.

The guard didn't even notice the problem on his head and swayed as he passed by.

Only after the guards had gone far away did the shadowy figure continue its actions, eventually climbing to the third floor, hooking one hand onto the windowsill and hanging outside the restaurant window, while the other hand took out a small pinhole camera from its waist and quietly placed it on the windowsill.

Inside the window, a group of white-haired old men sat in a row on either side of a long Western-style dining table filled with candlesticks. They were all dressed in red wine, shaved ice, and suits. Only the old man with a white beard at the head of the table was wearing a priest's robe and seemed to be a clergyman.

"Our plan in South America has failed," a burly, menacing-looking man from the US spoke first. "We haven't heard from the South America branch all day... Mike, do you have any news from South America?"

Perhaps to accentuate his physique, the striped suit he was wearing was noticeably a size too small.

The lean Mike, cigar in his mouth, shrugged: "I've already asked, but there's no detailed information. They only said that the South American branch was bombed by a swarm of drones from the University of Tokyo and is completely wiped out."

"Is anyone still alive?" the muscleman asked again.

"Probably not," Mike said casually.

"Impossible. How could there be no survivors in such a large place as the University of Tokyo? Did the University of Tokyo drop a mushroom bomb?"

Mike glanced at the pastor and explained coldly, "There were indeed people outside when it happened, but Dongda used swarm drones. You know what a swarm is, right? It's like those flying bombs in science fiction movies that swarm like locusts. Everyone was killed by the swarm."

"Mole said that Dongda's bombing was extremely precise. It's certain that they had accurate intelligence on the South American branch before launching the attack!" Mike flicked his cigarette ash and slammed his fingertips on the table. "I've already warned you, angering Dongda is extremely unwise!"

The muscular man's fat twitched: "Is this what you mean?"

“That’s what the mole meant too,” Mike said. All eyes turned to Mike; clearly, the mole’s identity was extraordinary, and his words carried considerable weight.

"What's the point of bringing this up now that it's already happened?" The muscular man wisely changed the subject. "Didn't the mole say what the Pentagon's plans are?"

"Plans? Plans what?" Mike gave him a look that said, "Are you kidding me?" "Are you going to turn against Dongda University?"

"Are we just going to let it go like this?" the muscleman said indignantly.

The US has always regarded South America as its own backyard and does not allow anyone to interfere. Although it was a drone strike on the South American branch and the scale was not large, it still looked like it was hitting the US's sore spot. How could the US Palace and the Pentagon remain indifferent?

Mike gave a disdainful sneer, but he hid it well: "There are indeed some discontents, but attacking transport ships and cutting off the supply lines for the US harms the interests of the entire United States. Do you think anyone would stand up for us terrorists?"

He simply couldn't understand what was in the heads of these idiots, pig shit or something?
He had explicitly opposed the attack when it was first planned, unable to comprehend what kind of idiot would come up with such a ridiculous plan. The muscle-bound guy had promised to consider it carefully, but who knew that this fool would turn around and sink a transport ship.

These people have been blinded by religious fanaticism, their minds filled with the idea of ​​purifying the world, and they are deaf to any correct advice.

And what happened? In just a few days, the South American branch was completely wiped out by Dongda University.

Is it weird?

Not at all.

Before the outbreak of the pandemic, the United States had already experienced stagnation or even recession. On many issues, the once-powerful U.S. House of Representatives had to consult with the University of Tokyo.

The United States is now being bleed by the ongoing pandemic, and its military and economic strength have been greatly diminished, making it no longer as glorious as it once was.

But no matter where you are, there's always a small group of fools who hold the idea that the world is number one and the earth is number two, and the United States is number three, believing that the United States can still dominate the world.

How did this person manage to infiltrate the upper echelons of the Apostles?
Mike really wanted to beat the muscleman up badly and make him wake up.

The pastor, who had been silent until now, suddenly pressed his palm down to stop the conflict between the two sides: "Alright, the South American branch is destroyed, but the followers are still here. It will only take a little time to rebuild. The question now is what to do with our plan!"

Mike wanted to argue, but he suddenly noticed that everyone sitting around the long table was looking at the pastor with fanatical eyes.

forget it!
Mike sighed, giving up the idea of ​​continuing the argument, and began to think about how to prepare a way out for himself.

Once the idea popped into my head, it grew wildly like weeds that had been fertilized, and I could no longer control it.

But Mike knew all too well how extreme the Apostles' ways were, and he repeatedly warned himself that he must not show the slightest sign of anything unusual, or he would surely lose his life.

The muscular man shouted, "Don't worry, we'll prepare more balloons and more spores, and we have a new plan. Trust me, it won't be long before the epidemic spreads beyond America and cleanses this filthy world!"

At this point, he broke into a bright smile: "I'm really looking forward to that day!"

Mike gave a mocking smile: "What a coincidence, I also have a new plan!"

(End of this chapter)