If you had to choose an identity to go undercover, you'd choose a gynecologist.

"Sizzle!"

The sharp blade sliced ​​open the belly, revealing the internal organs inside.

"Ah!" Wang Shen let out a heart-wrenching scream that sent chills down everyone's spine.

His body writhed violently, veins bulging, but his hands and feet were held down tightly, leaving him no choice but to let the blade slice open his stomach.

The agents held his limbs down tightly, their faces expressionless; this was something they were used to.

The scalpel in Chen Qing's hand was stained red with blood, making it slippery and difficult to hold.

He suppressed the churning in his stomach, trembling as he reached into his ripped belly, found his stomach, and made a slit in it.

The sticky sensation made him want to vomit, but the gun barrel on his head remained cold, so he had no choice but to grit his teeth and continue searching.

After an unknown amount of time, my fingertips finally touched a slippery, hard object in my stomach.

He pulled his hand out, and in his palm was the bloody wax pill.

Wang Shen lay on the bed with his head tilted to one side, his eyes wide open. Pain contorted his face, but his eyes had lost their luster.

Blood was everywhere, spreading down the foot of the bed to Chen Qing's feet. The warm touch sent a shiver down his spine.

He abruptly threw down the scalpel, slumped to the ground, his limbs weak, all his strength drained away, and sat there panting heavily.

He still clutched the blood-stained wax ball in his hand; the smell of blood and wax mingled together, a scent he would never forget for the rest of his life.

It turns out that espionage is never the thrilling, exciting, and vengeful kind described in books, but rather a naked cruelty and a bloody despair.

Seeing this, Captain Wan immediately stepped forward, snatched the wax pill from Chen Qing's hand, and tossed it to the agent beside him: "Hurry up and wash it!"

The agent hurriedly used the clinic's clean water to wash away the bloodstains on the wax pellet, but the layer of wax remained intact.

Captain Wan looked at Lawan, threw his head back, and burst into laughter, his voice rough and triumphant: "It's done! This time, the credit is in order!"

Meanwhile, several agents were already ransacking the clinic, leaving things scattered all over the place and the clinic in a complete mess.

One of the agents searched for a long time but found nothing of value. He sullenly whispered in Captain Wan's ear, "Captain, this kid is a penniless pauper, he's got no money in him."

Captain Wan waved his hand impatiently: "Useless! Send someone to take the body away, and we're back!"

Chen Qing was thoroughly searched again, and only after confirming that he had no money or anything else on him did the agents release him in disappointment.

Soon, several cars from Unit 76 arrived and took away the bodies of Wang Shen and the fallen agent, leaving behind a mess in the room.

It took Chen Qing a long time to recover before he remembered why Wang Shen had made him swallow the wax pill. The information in his own stomach should be the real intelligence, while the information Wang Shen swallowed in front of the spies must have been fake.

Wang Shen has already sacrificed himself, dying by his own hand, but he cannot let him die in vain.

Although Chen Qing was uneducated and incompetent, the tragic scene of Wang Shen's death lingered in his mind. Since his hands were stained with Wang Shen's blood, he felt obligated to help him pass on the intelligence.

The thing inside his stomach was the real intelligence the spies were looking for. If he digested it or if the spies found out, his fate would be no better than Wang Shen's!

He struggled to his feet and staggered toward the cramped toilet in the corner of the clinic.

After locking the toilet door, he braced himself against the wall, bent over, and began to gag into the toilet bowl.

His fingernails dug deep into his throat, and a violent wave of nausea shot through his head.

He was hunched over, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably. First, the coarse rice from his dinner mixed with vegetable scraps gushed out, followed by bitter bile. The yellowish-green liquid dripped down the corners of his mouth, burning the skin of his throat and chin.

"Well--!"

He coughed so hard it was excruciating, tears and snot streaming down his face, his stomach churning with pain as if his internal organs were about to be vomited up.

I don't know how long I kept picking at my throat, but then my throat felt blocked, and something slippery rolled out with my vomit and fell into the toilet with a "plop".

It's that wax ball!

Chen Qing's eyes lit up, and ignoring his disgust, he reached into the murky sewage and fished the wax ball out.

The wax pellets were covered in dirt, yet they still retained their intact wax layer.

He breathed a sigh of relief, rinsed the wax balls clean, and put them into his pocket.

Slowly, he washed away all the filth in the toilet and washed his hands with soap again and again. Finally, Chen Qing walked out of the toilet, his legs feeling unsteady.

Old Pan was standing outside the toilet at some point, looking at him with a sympathetic expression.

"It must feel terrible to kill your own people," Old Pan sighed.

Chen Qing hugged Lao Pan tightly and almost burst into tears.

"Old Pan, I killed my own compatriots, I'm not clean anymore. Those beasts pointed a gun at my head and made me cut open that person's stomach... without anesthesia, they did it raw."

"Don't cry, it's not your fault. Even if you hadn't done it, they would have done it themselves. Those guys from 76th Division are inhuman."

Old Pan patted his shoulder somewhat sadly: "Let me tidy up this place for you. Did that person leave you anything before he died?"

"There was a wax pill in my stomach, which was taken away by Captain Wan."

A hint of disappointment flashed in Lao Pan's eyes, but he didn't say anything more.

The two of them worked together to clean the place, rinsing the floor with water several times, but they still couldn't get rid of the lingering smell of blood.

After seeing Lao Pan off, Chen Qing looked at the bookstore across the street, frowned, then locked the door, turned off the lights, walked to the medicine cabinet, and pushed it open forcefully, revealing the floor underneath.

Lifting the floorboards revealed a dark hole. Chen Qing carefully climbed up the ladder and went inside, then covered the floorboards again.

The basement was pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Chen Qing groped his way forward a few steps, his fingertips touching a wooden table, where a box of matches was indeed placed.

He struck a match, and the orange flame instantly illuminated the basement. He quickly lit the half-burnt candle on the corner of the table.

Warm, dim light filled the narrow basement.

The basement has a complete set of film processing equipment, where the intelligence footage shot on a daily basis is processed.

On the other side of the wooden shelf lay a Mauser pistol and a submachine gun, with several round grenades in a wooden box next to it, and a radio and codebook in another box.

Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately began preparing to wash the film.

First, mix the developer and fixer in the correct proportions, then carefully remove the film roll from the parchment paper and place it in the developer.

In the candlelight, his movements were practiced and skillful, a stark contrast to the doctor who had been forced to the ground by the secret agents.

The wait for the development process felt exceptionally long, with only the faint sound of flickering candlelight in the basement.

Chen Qing stared intently at the film in the liquid medicine, watching the image gradually emerge, his heart pounding faster and faster.

Half an hour later, the film was finally developed. He hung the wet negatives up to dry for a while, then printed the photos on photographic paper and laid them flat on the table.

These are all skills inherited from the original owner, and he uses them very skillfully.

The first photo made Chen Qing's pupils shrink sharply.

It is a map showing the troop deployment of the Central China Expeditionary Army. The map is filled with red dots marking the troop deployment, and the positions, number of artillery pieces, and number of troops stationed are clearly marked in great detail.

He flipped through the photos one by one until the last few appeared, and a striking title caught his eye: "Operation Cuckoo".

This is a top-secret infiltration plan.

The document clearly states that the Japanese army carefully selected 350 people from the puppet troops in central and northern China and secretly sent them to a rear training camp for six months of rigorous training, which included skills such as intelligence transmission, disguise and infiltration, assassination and demolition.

Subsequently, these 350 people spent more than a year infiltrating the two core anti-Japanese war areas of Chongqing and Yan'an through various channels such as bribery, identity forgery, and defection.

Even more alarming is that, in order to keep these lurking individuals firmly under control, a complete list was attached to the document.

The document not only contains the real names, hometowns, and disguised identities of these individuals, but also detailed information about their families, including addresses, kinship relationships, and even their children's schools—leaving nothing out. Clearly, this is a case of using family members as leverage.