Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 270 Epic Braised Noodles

The second-floor corridor was empty, with no sign of guards.

It seemed like a golden opportunity.

Morrison stopped a short distance from the bathroom and stared down at the Desert Eagle.

After a while, he took a deep breath, gripped the slide, and pulled it backward with force.

The spring tension was greater than expected.

Finally, the bullet was pushed into the chamber.

The hammer is cocked and the safety has not been released.

Morrison adjusted his grip slightly, hooked his thumb around the safety lever, and pushed it down gently.

Click.

He pushed open the dark door.

The expected scene did not occur.

Kiyoshi Sawada collapsed onto the tiles, his face buried in a pool of blood that had not yet dried.

A chill ran down Morrison’s neck.

He instinctively raised his arm, but only managed to catch two blurry figures in the mirror.

The next moment, he was violently knocked down, his body slamming into the cold, slippery liquid.

A sharp pain shot through my shoulder, and the pistol was snatched away in an instant.

It was then that Morrison realized the large amount of blood did not come from the unconscious Japanese man.

Two corpses dressed in Guard uniforms lay in the cubicle.

His neck was cut open, his chest was caved in, and his flesh was rolled up, as if it were the work of a cold weapon.

"Desert Eagle?" someone said from behind. "Where did you get that?"

"Don't call it some bullshit CrossFire."

Before he could finish speaking, he was grabbed by the collar and flipped over, with the gun barrel shoved directly into his throat.

Morrison was so shocked that he froze on the spot.

The coldness of the metal and the burning sensation of the skin being scraped off followed in quick succession.

But he paid no attention to any of that, his eyes fixed on the Asians above him.

Zhou Yi wanted to say something, but the Desert Eagle in his hand disappeared instantly.

He was stunned for a moment, and then he heard the intruder speak.

"Listen, you and I are not enemies."

“EU-00093X.” Morrison’s voice trembled slightly.

"I have been searching for you for a long time, my spies whom I have never met."

Even now, Cattel still doesn't understand what's going on.

She opened her mouth, watching the two men in front of her talking rapidly in a language she couldn't understand.

There was no hostility in his expression.

There was no resentment, nor fear.

Katelyl blinked.

Immediately afterwards, Zhou Yi bent down, pulled the man up from the ground, and patted him on the shoulder.

"This is Mr. Morrison from the U.S. Embassy."

"It was just a small misunderstanding before, and he will be working with us from now on."

Cattel was caught off guard by the sudden turn of events.

However, before they could ask any questions, the Japanese man on the ground let out two groans.

He struggled to wake up from his coma, braced himself with his hands on the ground, and curled up in a survival instinct.

Seeing this, Zhou Yi took two steps closer, grabbed the person's hair, and pulled them up.

“There’s no time to lose,” he said, forcibly turning his blood-stained face toward Morrison.

"Ask him now what exactly the military is planning in Germania."

Morrison hadn't expected Zhou Yi to act so decisively, and it took him a few seconds to finally get into the rhythm.

“You can understand what I’m saying, right?” he asked in Japanese.

Kiyoshi Sawada did not answer.

His lower lip was split open, and blood dripped down his chin onto his shirt.

"What's your name?"

No response.

"What company do you work for?"

Still silent.

Zhou Yi sighed, maintaining his control, and tilted his head to signal Katelyl to come closer.

“Tie him up the way I told you before,” he said.

Katelyl did as instructed.

Seeing that the situation was about right, Zhou Yi let go and threw the person back to the ground, then squatted down himself.

Then, he pulled out half of a rough metal pillar from his pocket.

"Open your mouth," he said softly.

Kiyoshi Sawada gritted his teeth.

Zhou Yi, unwilling to waste words, simply punched him in the jaw. The bone cracked softly, and his mouth opened uncontrollably.

Taking advantage of the moment, Zhou Yi quickly stuffed the entire thing inside.

Kiyoshi Sawada tensed up and kicked his legs hard against the floor, but was held firmly down by Katelyl.

He tried to struggle and shout, but could only manage faint "uh uh" sounds.

His eyes rolled back, his breathing became disordered, and snot mixed with saliva was aspirated into his trachea.

Zhou Yi remained expressionless as she felt the man's heartbeat, silently counting the seconds in her mind.

Just as he was about to suffocate, he suddenly pulled the cylinder out, bringing with it a string of blood droplets.

Kiyoshi Sawada immediately began coughing violently.

As he gasped for breath, an unbearable pain shot through the cut.

"continue."

"What is your purpose in coming here?" Morrison asked.

Kiyoshi Sawada broke his silence.

“Execute the order,” he said hoarsely.

"Whose order?"

"Your Majesty the Emperor."

"I need more specific details."

Kiyoshi Sawada fell silent again, this time even closing his eyes tightly to show his determination.

Zhou Yi didn't waste any more words and simply repeated the previous steps.

After several attempts, the man immediately convulsed like a fish about to be nailed to its death, letting out an uncontrollable wail from deep in his throat.

Poznan, Gdynia, Ulm, Tübingen

Morrison ignored the horrific scene before him and continued to recite place names.

Do these places have any significance to you?

"Tell me, what exactly are you plotting?"

In response to his question, Zhou Yi increased the amplitude again.

The sticky, rubbing sound became increasingly clear.

For a moment, even Cattelley couldn't help but look away.

After an unknown amount of time, Kiyoshi Sawada began to cry and wail, then suddenly burst into laughter.

His lips trembled incessantly, as if he wanted to say something.

Morrison quickly pried the tube out.

"Say!"

"I understand. I understand," the man said weakly, but the madness in his eyes remained undiminished.

"You're all fucking monkeys—"

Snapped!
Morrison slapped him across the face with his other hand.

"Your plan is to transport supplies?"

The man didn't react to his guess at all; instead, he grinned.

"How many times do you think we'll repeat that?" He looked up, blood gushing from his body.

Thirty times? Sixty times? Or one hundred times?

"Answer me!" Morrison roared, "You—"

"I bet you'd rather see it with your own eyes," the man interrupted him with a loud laugh, "like it was a decade or so ago."

What mission are you on?

"************".

Morrison's hands were shaking.

Fuck you, fuck your mother.

"What exactly was the agreement you reached with Na*?"

"Not enough South China Sea? Not enough Yangtze River? Not enough of all the other rivers? Are all the other rivers so ****?"

Finally, Zhou Yi couldn't listen anymore.

He reached out and grabbed the man's neck.

The next second—

Click.

The room fell completely silent.

Morrison was still standing there, his chest heaving violently.

A warm sensation slid down my cheek.

He raised his hand to touch his face and was shocked to find that he was already in tears.

How many Japanese people are still downstairs?

Zhou Yi's voice rang out, very soft, calm, and without the slightest emotional fluctuation.

Thirty-six.

"very good."

"We have thirty-six more chances."

(End of this chapter)