American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

“Strange, I clearly heard a sound coming from here just now,” one of the guards said, slowly surveying the laboratory. He was a tall, muscular man with a scar on his face.

“Those damn experimental subjects are probably moving again,” another responded, thinner but more alert, his eyes constantly scanning every corner of the lab. “One of them almost escaped last week, it scared me to death. That thing doesn’t look human anymore.”

“The boss said those are future warriors, but to be honest, I’d rather use regular soldiers. Those things… are wrong,” the first guard said, his voice laced with obvious disgust.

The two continued to search every corner of the laboratory, slowly approaching the location where Lynn and Mark were hiding. Lynn quietly took out a small device that looked like a flashbang. His eyes remained calm and focused; years of combat experience allowed him to remain composed even in such a critical moment.

“Prepare to move,” he mouthed to Mark, his eyes conveying confidence. “I’ll count to three, then throw the flashbangs. We rush to the emergency exits and evacuate according to the backup plan.”

Mark nodded, gripping his weapon tighter, but his expression suggested he preferred to avoid direct conflict. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, but his eyes remained resolute.

"One, two, three!" Lynn counted softly, then threw the flashbang toward the guard.

The device erupted in mid-air with a blinding flash of white light and a deafening roar, temporarily blinding and deafening the two guards. They clutched their eyes and ears in agony, staggering backward. Lynn and Mark seized the opportunity, rushing towards the emergency exit on the other side of the laboratory. Lynn's movements were swift and precise, demonstrating the results of years of training, while Mark, though slightly less skilled, still kept pace.

"Alarm! Intruder in the lab!" A guard, regaining his senses, immediately pressed the alarm button. A sharp siren began to echo throughout the facility, and flashing red alarm lights illuminated the previously dimly lit corridors.

Lynn and Mark rushed into the emergency exit, a narrow concrete corridor leading to the ground floor. The walls were rough, the lighting dim, and it smelled damp and musty. They could hear footsteps and shouts behind them; clearly, more guards were on their way.

“We need to speed things up,” Lynn said as he ran, his voice steady but urgent. “According to the blueprints, this passage should lead to a maintenance exit on the east side. From there, we can reach the coastline.”

They ran swiftly along the passageway, encountering new forks and doors at each turn. The gray concrete walls appeared even more oppressive under the red warning lights. Lynn, with his remarkable memory and sense of direction, accurately chose his route. Mark followed closely behind, occasionally glancing back to see if anyone was chasing them.

“They’re behind us!” Mark shouted, seeing several guards appear around the corner in the distance.

Several gunshots rang out, bullets striking the wall beside them and sending cement debris flying. Lynn pulled Mark through a side door into a space that looked like a storage room. The room was filled with various experimental equipment, chemical reagents, and cleaning supplies, and the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant.

“Here,” Lynn said, quickly glancing around before pointing to a vent on the side of the room, his voice low and urgent, “this should lead outside.”

Mark quickly helped him open the vent cover, and the two climbed inside. This passage was wider than the previous one, allowing them to move forward in a half-crouch. As the alarm faded into the distance, they knew they had temporarily shaken off their pursuers.

“The data we obtained,” Mark said, panting as he crawled, “was those experiments really conducted on humans? I’ve never seen such extensive genetic modification.”

Lynn's expression was unusually serious in the dimly lit ventilation duct. "Black Hawk International has crossed the line of ethics and law. According to the documents you found, they are developing biological weapons capable of attacking specific genetic sequences. If this technology falls into the hands of terrorist organizations, the consequences would be unimaginable."

The ventilation duct eventually led to a hidden exit on the east side of the island, covered by dense vegetation. Lynn carefully pushed open the cover, and after confirming there was no danger outside, signaled Mark to follow. They quickly crawled out of the tunnel and found themselves in a dense tropical forest, about 500 meters from the shoreline.

The rain continued, now pouring down, and lightning ripped through the night sky, illuminating the entire island. In the distance, sirens and shouts could be heard, and beams of flashlights swept back and forth through the jungle. The entire island seemed to be on high alert.

Lynn crouched down, took a waterproof map from his backpack, and quickly confirmed their location by the flashes of lightning. "According to the plan, our evacuation point is on the east coast, but it seems that route is blocked now." He pointed to a point on the map. "We need to change plans, move south, cross this jungle, and then descend the cliff to the south shore."

Mark nodded, rain streaming down his hair and wetting his face. "Is the defense there weak?"

“Not necessarily,” Lynn said cautiously, “but they will prioritize sealing off the main evacuation points to the east. We need to create a time difference.” He adjusted his communications equipment, trying to contact the evacuation team, but only received static. “Communications are being jammed. They may have activated their signal jamming system.”

Just then, the sound of dogs barking came from the nearby jungle, followed by the beams of several flashlights.

“Hounds,” Lynn said in a low voice, his brow furrowed. “Their highly trained tracking dogs can maintain their keen sense of smell even in the rain. We must move immediately.”

The two began moving south, avoiding open areas and potential patrol routes. The rain intensified, and lightning flashed intermittently in the clouds overhead, illuminating their path. The ground had become slippery and muddy, making progress increasingly difficult. Mark nearly slipped several times, but Lynn always managed to catch him in time.

“Watch your step,” Lynn whispered a reminder. “The wet ground will leave obvious tracks. Try to step on rocks or tree roots.”

They continued forward, through a dense thicket of bushes, raindrops sliding off the leaves and soaking their clothes and equipment. Despite wearing waterproof tactical gear, the prolonged exposure to the rain had allowed moisture to seep in, making them feel slightly chilly.

Lynn stopped, took two small devices from his backpack, and handed one to Mark. "Scent masking spray. Spray it on your shoes and trouser legs. This will temporarily confuse the tracking dog's sense of smell."

Mark took the device and used it according to the instructions. "How long will this last?"

“About twenty minutes,” Lynn replied, glancing warily around, “enough time for us to shake them off and reach the south bank.”

After completing this maneuver, they continued forward, this time walking faster, with Lynn seemingly consciously quickening his pace. Rain mixed with sweat streamed down their faces, but both remained alert, ready to deal with any potential threats.

Suddenly, Lynn raised his hand to signal a stop, his body tensing instantly. About thirty meters ahead, a patrol was moving through the jungle, their flashlight beams sweeping across the trees and bushes.

"Don't move," Lynn whispered, and the two immediately held their breath and pressed themselves as close to the ground as possible.

The patrol consisted of four fully armed guards who moved cautiously, stopping periodically to check their surroundings. One guard, holding a communications device, appeared to be maintaining contact with command center. "No intruders found in Area Four," the guard said, his voice muffled by the rain. "Continue searching southeast."

"Received," came the response from the communication device. "Stay on high alert; they are likely still on the island. All exits are blocked, and the coastline is under surveillance."

The patrol continued on, eventually disappearing into the depths of the jungle. Lynn and Mark waited about a minute to make sure they were far enough away before carefully standing up.

“They say all the exits are blocked,” Mark said, his voice filled with worry. “Can we still leave?”

A determined look flashed across Lynn's face. "Headquarters won't abandon us. According to standard procedure, if the primary evacuation plan fails, the support team will activate the backup plan after the scheduled time. We must reach the designated coordinates on the south bank before 5:00 AM." He glanced at his watch. "It's 3:20 AM now. We still have time."

They continued south, this time more cautiously, stopping every few steps to listen to their surroundings. The rain masked most of the ambient sounds, but occasionally they could catch distant shouts and barking. Lynn's experience and training allowed him to accurately judge the direction and distance of those sounds, thus avoiding the pursuers' search routes.

As they approached the south bank, the terrain became increasingly rugged. Ahead lay a steep cliff, about thirty meters high, with raging waves crashing against the rocks below. Rainwater cascaded down the cliff edge, forming several makeshift waterfalls—a sight both spectacular and perilous.

“We need to go down from here,” Lynn pointed to a relatively less steep slope, “Use the ropes to descend, watch your step, the rocks are very slippery.”

They took out ropes and other climbing equipment and began preparing to descend. Lynn professionally checked every joint and lock to ensure they would still function properly in slippery conditions.

“I’ll go down first,” Lynn said, securing the rope to a large rock. “You follow behind me, keep the rope taut, and avoid swaying.”

Lynn began his descent, his movements steady and skillful, maintaining excellent control even in the rain and strong winds. Mark followed closely behind, his movements not as fluid as Lynn's, but he also demonstrated the results of his training.

As they descended to about half their height, several beams of flashlight light suddenly appeared above the cliff. The pursuers had found their trail.

“Damn it,” Lynn cursed, “speed up, but don’t take any risks.”

Just then, a gunshot pierced the night sky, and the bullet struck the rock wall next to them, sending up a cloud of stone chips.

"They've found us!" Mark shouted, his voice tense. "We're exposed in open terrain!"

Lynn calmly assessed the situation. "Continue descending, using the rocks for cover. Their firing accuracy is limited in the rain and darkness."

Several more shots rang out, bullets ricocheting off the rock walls around them, but fortunately, no one was hit. Lynn and Mark quickened their descent, using the protruding rocks for cover as much as possible.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the cliff, immediately released the ropes, and crouched behind a boulder. The pursuers on the cliff continued to fire downwards, but most of the bullets missed or were blocked by the rocks.

“We need to find cover,” Lynn said, looking around and pointing to a cave not far away. “That should provide temporary shelter.”

They crouched low and quickly moved to the cave, finding it to be a shallow sea cave, but enough to provide them with temporary shelter. Lynn immediately retrieved his communication device and attempted to contact the support team.

“Storm 01, this is Ghost Squad,” he whispered into the communicator. “Location: South Bank, coordinates 23-45. Requesting emergency evacuation. Encountering enemy fire. Repeat, requesting emergency evacuation.”

A brief burst of static came through the communication equipment, followed by a clear voice: "Ghost Squad, this is Storm 01. Your request has been received. Approaching your location. Estimated arrival time: 10 minutes. Maintain position and prepare for evacuation."

Lynn breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Mark, "Reinforcements are on their way; we need to hold out for 10 minutes."

Mark nodded, then looked up at the cave entrance. "They might search every nook and cranny of this area. We need to be prepared."

Lynn took out the last few defensive devices from his backpack: flashbangs, smoke grenades, and a small EMP generator. "These might come in handy if they find us. But the best-case scenario is that they won't find us until reinforcements arrive."

They crouched in the cave, listening to the sounds outside. The rain was still heavy, but they could hear shouts from the cliff and static from walkie-talkies. It looked like the search team was moving down the cliff, looking for their trail.

“They’ll find the rope,” Mark whispered, “and then they’ll climb down it.”

Lynn nodded. "Yes, but that takes time. We have about a five-minute window."

He cautiously peeked out, observing the situation outside. The rain was still falling, and the waves were crashing violently against the rocks on the shore, but he couldn't see anyone. However, the beams of flashlights on the cliff indicated that pursuers were approaching.

“We need to get out of this cave,” Lynn decided. “Move south along the coastline for about two hundred meters; there’s a small beach there that’s suitable for a speedboat to approach.”

They carefully left the cave, moving quickly and crouching low, using the large rocks on the shore as cover. The sound of rain and waves masked their footsteps, but they stopped every few steps to make sure they weren't being watched.

Just as they approached their designated location, two guards suddenly appeared ahead, patrolling the coastline. Lynn immediately signaled Mark to stop, and the two hid behind a large rock.

“They’re blocking our escape route,” Lynn whispered, observing the two guards’ movements. “We need to either get around them or subdue them.” (End of Chapter)