Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 215 Uncle Sam

Chapter 215 Uncle Sam
It was nearing evening, the air was damp after the rain, and the soil was still not completely dry.

The hum of the diesel generator could be heard from afar.

Zhou Yi lifted the tent flap and walked in with his head down.

It was unbearably hot and stuffy inside, with almost no air circulation. The curtains hung low, and water droplets dripped down the seams.

The M23 officer who received him that day was sitting at a plastic table, his face gloomy and his expression indignant.

When Zhou Yi appeared, the man neither stood up nor extended a hand, but simply said coldly, "You've come."

Zhou Yi nodded, showing no response to his hostility: "The road conditions are terrible, and your soldiers haven't been of much help either."

The officer chuckled twice but didn't reply.

He leaned back, placed his hands on his legs, and tapped his knuckles lightly, as if ready to burst out at any moment.

The silence lasted for more than ten seconds.

Finally, the officer spoke, in broken French: "They told me what you did."

"What did I do?" Zhou Yi asked casually, then took out a cigarette from his shirt and lit it.

“You killed Americans, Frenchmen, and Europeans.”

The officer looked directly at him, slowed his pace, and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"This morning, an Antonov plane crashed in Nyankund."

"They have the documents."

"You, blow them up."

Zhou Yi didn't rush to answer. He raised his hand to wave away the smoke swirling in front of him, tilted his head slightly, as if carefully considering his words.

Then he shrugged.

"The operation was based on faulty intelligence."

"But the result was very valuable."

"For example, everyone is convinced that you did it."

"That's very intimidating, isn't it?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the officer's face twitched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger, shame, and fear.

He gritted his teeth, his cloudy eyes fixed on Zhou Yi, his fingers tightening into fists, then relaxing.

Zhou Yi remained seated, smoking slowly and deliberately, as if waiting for the man to explode—or simply admit defeat.

A few seconds passed, and the officer managed to calm himself down before questioning again: "Don't you know who was on that plane?"

“Of course I know,” Zhou Yi said.

He stared at the other man, his tone calm and almost sarcastic: “A group of diplomats shot down by anti-government forces.”

"No, to be precise, it was a diplomat who was shot down by terrorists."

The atmosphere suddenly solidified.

The next moment, the officer slammed his hand on the table and stood up, knocking over the chair behind him.

He reached out, abruptly drew the pistol from his waist, and slammed it onto the table with a snap.

"You think this is a joke?!"

"You think you can do whatever you want? Who do you think you are?!"

"They've come to this land! Our land! To treat us like dogs?!"

Zhou Yi didn't move, a cigarette dangling from his lips, not even lifting his eyelids.

"You want to shoot?" he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The officer's chest heaved violently, his nostrils flared, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

"You want to get revenge on me?" Zhou Yi continued slowly. "Then you'd better make sure your men don't run away right away."

At this point, he finally raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the smoke and landing on the man's face.

“You know who I am,” Zhou Yi said. “You know who I represent.”

"Most importantly, you know who you are and why they are willing to give you weapons, food, and friendship."

"So, you think that such a decision, or so-called 'minor oversight,' is an acceptable reason in the eyes of wealthy gentlemen?"

Immediately, the officer's momentum weakened.

"I... I don't understand what you're saying." He opened his mouth, trying to play dumb and fool the other person.

However, Zhou Yi did not intend to give him that opportunity.

"Very well, then let me be even more direct."

As he spoke, he straightened up, took a few steps closer, and his expression turned icy.

"You let CIA agents in without reporting it to us."

"You allowed that Belgian woman to live in the village, giving her communication equipment and cover for her identity." "You knew she was working for the US government, yet you still fantasized about using her to gain some recognition, some money, and a sense of security from the 'white world'."

"The results of it?"

Zhou Yi chuckled, took the photo out of his pocket, and tossed it lightly onto the table.

"You messed up."

"They are dead beyond dead."

"The heads were cut off and piled up like a small mountain."

The officer's lips moved as if he wanted to defend himself, but in the end he only let out a weak gasp.

Zhou Yi looked at him without a trace of pity.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked.

The officer remained silent.

It was quiet inside the tent; you could hear the raindrops falling on the ground, one drop at a time, evenly and slowly.

A few seconds later, he spoke, his posture very humble, and his French exceptionally fluent:
"You think I'm greedy."

"But I'm just doing this to survive."

"We don't have your planes, your intelligence, or your supplies."

"There were only soldiers on the mountain and children who didn't have enough to eat."

Zhou Yi was not fooled by the man's superb acting. She stubbed out the cigarette butt on the sole of her boot before saying something cryptic:
"You're a smart person, don't do anything stupid."

"At least, don't get caught by too many people."

The silence continued for a while.

The officer quietly tucked his pistol back into his waistband.

"So what do you want me to do here today?" His dark face was expressionless. "Leave? Commit suicide? Or sign some papers?"

Zhou Yi smiled slightly and shook his head.

"I'd like to invite you to a show tonight."

".?"

The officer didn't react immediately and looked up in confusion.

Zhou Yi's smile remained unchanged as he patiently repeated, "I'd like to invite you to a performance tonight."

The program is called "l'Oncle Sam N'a Jamaisté Un Bloc Monolithique".

The officer frowned, staring at him with a look of understanding but not quite.

"What do you mean?"

“What I mean is,” Zhou Yi put his hands in his pockets, “that the massive systems you’re worried about, like the US military, intelligence agencies, and the United Nations, aren’t some organic whole with a unified will.”

“There, some people hate you, and some people are willing to support you.”

"The reason you're still sitting here today, and people are still listening to you, is because you've temporarily chosen the right direction."

The officer's eyes flickered, as if he was only now truly realizing his predicament.

"What do you think we'll be performing tonight?" His voice held a hint of anxious anticipation.

“The answer,” Zhou Yi said, “the answer to all your questions.”

He took two steps to the right and tapped his finger on the map.

"Head northeast for 60 kilometers, arrive before 7:30 PM."

"If you wish, you can bring your soldiers to witness this together."

The officer stared at the location and nodded: "I'll go."

Don't be late.

Zhou Yi then turned and left the tent.

The curtain billowed in the wind, then fell back down.