Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

Over the past 48 hours, the CIA has mobilized almost all available resources to track down the account that posted the YouTube video.

They tracked down the other person's movements and even found out that he was an Indian thoracic surgeon who had come to illegally immigrate to the United States.

Even more bizarrely, the smugglers told us that the Indian doctor was dead and his body had been disposed of.

However, after searching, there were no clues whatsoever about the body.

That's so weird.

We can only conclude that the Indian is dead, but who posted his account?

This has become another unsolved mystery.

Every seemingly promising clue ultimately ends up mysteriously gone.

The other party vanished without a trace, like a ghost that had never existed.

A profound sense of powerlessness is particularly tormenting for CIA elites who are accustomed to controlling everything and uncovering all secrets.

"Who the hell is it?" Anna unlocked the security door with her fingerprint.

The continuous high-intensity mental work and stress caused her temples to throb.

She pushed open the door and casually tossed her briefcase onto the cabinet by the entrance.

Suddenly, Anna felt a slight numbness in the back of her right shoulder, as if she had been gently pricked by the tip of a very fine needle.

Immediately afterwards, it swept over the entire arm, then half of the body, and finally spread to the whole body.

A chill ran through her as her professional training made her immediately realize something was wrong—someone was attacking.

Was a strong anesthetic injected?

However, in the next instant, she found herself to be perfectly conscious.

You can see yourself in the mirror.

However, my body completely wouldn't obey my commands.

She tried to turn around, but her neck wouldn't budge. She tried to reach for the miniature pistol hidden under her skirt on the inside of her thigh, but her fingers couldn't even bend.

They tried to use the mirror to search for traces of the attacker.

Just then, a figure appeared silently in front of her.

A young Asian man.

His figure was as upright as a pine tree, and the white T-shirt could not hide his well-proportioned and powerful lines.

Upon closer inspection, his appearance was surprisingly handsome, with a nonchalant yet sharp air about him.

When the face came into clear view and instantly overlapped with the outline of the photo in the file in her memory, Anna's pupils contracted sharply.

It felt like his heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and then it started pounding wildly.

Lin Feng, the Chinese target she secretly dispatched agents to investigate, is someone who mysteriously appeared in Tijuana, Mexico, and is highly connected to the disappearance of ICE and FBI agents.

He actually showed up in Washington, D.C., at her home!

How did he find this place?

Lin Feng seemed to appreciate the undisguised shock and fear in her eyes.

They took a small step forward, so close they could almost feel each other's breath.

Then, under Anna's almost fiery gaze, he reached out and slipped his hand directly under her tight business suit.

Warm fingers, through the smooth stockings, gently brushed against the skin on the outside of her thigh, bringing a shivering sensation.

Anna was filled with shame and indignation, but she couldn't even move a finger.

They could only watch helplessly as Lin Feng acted recklessly.

Lin Feng quickly found the Glock 43 micro pistol she had hidden in the holster on her inner thigh.

Lin Feng weighed the small yet deadly weapon in his hand. "Hmm, not bad, still warm."

After doing all this, Lin Feng's gaze returned to Anna's face, which was flushed with anger.

A playful smile curved his lips as he spoke in fluent American English:

"Tsk, Ms. Michael Anna, a senior intelligence analyst at the CIA, nice to meet you." Her tone was flippant. "I didn't expect you to be even more beautiful in person than those Hollywood actresses."

"These legs..." His gaze swept meaningfully over her still stiff legs, "They're quite smooth too."

Anna's eyes were practically spitting fire; if she could move, she would have pounced on him and torn that hateful face to shreds.

She wanted to question him sharply, to scream and call the police, but her throat felt like it was sealed with cement.

Lin Feng seemed to see through her intentions, and with lightning speed, he extended his index finger and pressed a pressure point on her chest.

Anna felt a tightness in her chest, followed by a rapid receding of the strange, tingling sensation that had gripped her entire body.

Blood began to flow again, and the nerves regained control of the muscles.

She staggered at first, then grabbed the wall next to her to steady herself.

However, the moment she regained her freedom, Anna hesitated almost without hesitation, using the strength she gained from leaning against the wall to steady herself.

His right leg, like a spring brimming with power, suddenly lashed upwards.

The foot, clad in sharp high heels, kicked fiercely between Lin Feng's legs—a classic deadly groin strike.

If that kick lands, it would be enough to incapacitate any man on the spot.

"That's ruthless," Lin Feng said with interest, giving a thumbs up.

Seemingly expecting this, and without even dodging, he simply brought his legs together casually, his knees slightly turned inward, clamping Anna's ankles firmly like iron clamps.

Anna felt her feet being squeezed by a tremendous force.

She felt a pressure on her ankles and shinbones, as if her bones were about to be crushed.

She groaned in pain, cold sweat instantly beading on her forehead. She tried to pull her leg back, but it was like an ant trying to shake a tree—she couldn't budge it.

Only now did she truly realize the despairing gap in strength between the two sides.

The reason the other party dared to easily release her restraints was not because they were arrogant, but because they had the confidence and strength to absolutely control the situation.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Anna forced herself to calm down, enduring the excruciating pain in her ankle and the turmoil in her heart. She tried to cover up her panic with a professional, cold tone, and even pretended to be puzzled as if it were their first meeting.

This was her trained instinct: when she was outmatched, she would try to gather information, stall for time, and find weaknesses.

Lin Feng looked at her with a half-smile, his eyes seemingly able to see through all pretense: "She is quite good-looking, and appears honest on the surface, but unfortunately, she is full of bad intentions."

"I'll give you one more chance. You really don't recognize me?"

His tone was playful, like a cat playing with a mouse.

Anna took a deep breath, knowing that pretending was pointless now.

The fact that the other party was able to find this place so accurately, and point out her name and position, clearly shows that they know her situation very well.

"Okay, Lin Feng." She gave up on the pointless probing and even addressed him by his first name in Chinese.

Her voice was hoarse from pain and tension. "What do you want from me?"

Her mind raced as she tried to analyze Lin Feng's motives.

Retaliation? Negotiation? Or something else entirely?

"That's a novel question," Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "If you hadn't sent someone to Mexico to invite me 'for tea,' why would I have traveled all the way to Washington to 'visit' you?"

Anna was utterly shocked by Lin Feng's sudden appearance and his incredible infiltration abilities and bizarre skills.

This was completely beyond her usual assessment of suspicious targets.

"The fact that you knew my home address and came in so quietly suggests that the two men I sent to Mexico must have met with some misfortune."

Are they... still alive?