American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

The gambler, who was piloting the helicopter, kept swearing the whole way.

The situation in the back row is not optimistic.

The 67-year-old woman fell into a delirious state due to a high fever.

The young man suffered extensive burns on his back, which became infected.

Half of his body was convulsing, and insect wings mixed with blood were stuck to his back.

Stephen Chow flipped through the ledger he had swiped, his gaze locking onto a coordinate.

"Go to the Red Stone Beach Motel, which is 70 kilometers to the southwest."

The strategist turned his head and retorted, "Are you out of your mind? There's a 90% chance there are security cameras in those guest rooms."

"Who said we were going to stay in the guest rooms?"

Stephen Chow flicked the cover of the ledger with his fingers.

"They lived in the wine cellar below the laundry room. Poor people had to queue up and pay with coins to do their laundry. That bastard Shan Beng hid over a hundred bottles of Bordeaux under the dilapidated laundry room."

The gerbil next to him poked its head out, its face full of surprise: "How did you even know about this secret door?"

"This ledger records a $20,000 annual maintenance fee for high-end temperature control equipment, with the address listed as the laundry room of a nearly bankrupt motel."

Stephen Chow closed the notebook.

"With a little basic financial knowledge, catching these criminal gangs is as easy as catching field mice."

The helicopter eventually landed in a desolate ravine.

After making simple but useless cover with weeds and branches, the group walked to the back door of the hotel.

The laundry room was littered with clumps of cheap laundry detergent.

Stephen Chow stepped forward and used a butcher knife to pry open the bottom of an old, abandoned washing machine in the corner.

A hidden underground door was revealed.

For safety, the gerbil volunteered to run out and dig a tunnel in the surrounding soil that served as both a ventilation and escape route to the wasteland.

Upon entering the wine cellar, a rich aroma of wine wafted towards you.

Stephen Chow pushed two bar tables together and poured out all the US dollars he had taken from the collapsed vault.

The banknotes were quickly divided into three piles.

"The first pile is for medical emergency expenses. The second pile is for evacuation travel expenses and subsequent resettlement costs. The third pile... is for the preservation of physical evidence."

"Starting tonight, this place will be officially designated as the Emergency Relief Station for Workers of the North American Branch of the 749th Bureau of China."

Upon hearing this, the card master, unable to resist, reached for the third pile of money: "Since it's a grand opening celebration, shouldn't we give out some travel expenses..."

"Snapped!"

Stephen Chow reached out and tapped the back of the King of Cards' hand.

"This is workers' compensation for injuries; touching it is like sucking the blood of our proletarian brothers!"

The King withdrew his hand, shook it off, and sullenly leaned against the corner to polish his diamonds.

Zhou Xingxing took out his notebook and walked up to the four survivors.

The gerbil saw that Stephen Chow had drawn four squares, and the first column, which was clearly labeled "Name," had the words "Name" written on it.

"They used to only have a barcode," the gerbil muttered in a low voice.

"Barcodes are used to scan product prices."

Stephen Chow bowed his head and wrote: "A name is a basic right of the living."

Wolverine leaned against the wall, smoking a cigar he'd taken from the helicopter.

Deep within those memories are countless people wearing hospital gowns, whose names were never known until their deaths.

The little girl with heterochromia spoke timidly, "I...I'm Nina Stewart. I can see lines."

She drew a line with her finger: "The red line connects to death. The gray line connects to people nobody cares about. The black line... represents someone looking for you, wanting you to disappear."

The boy next to her also forced himself to sit up straight and introduced himself.

Harry Kane.

It can hold its breath underwater for several hours and can taste the toxins and chemicals in the water.

He was originally a victim of Hurricane New Orleans, and because he had no money for medical treatment, he was tricked into coming here.

The 67-year-old woman coughed twice and weakly said her name was Martha Barton.

It can sense soil moisture within ten meters and keep small areas of dry land moist.

She used to be a veteran on the farm, but after the farm was acquired, she was tricked into a predatory loan scheme and ended up in a dungeon.

Finally, it was the young man's turn with a severe back infection.

Luke Shaw.

His jaw was chattering from the pain; he had a pair of insect wings and could fly.

They are also extremely sensitive to the smells of pesticides and plant pests.

Because of the problem with his wings, the people who caused the landslide stamped his file with a red mark indicating "secondary processing".

The tactician in the corner leaned over and whispered an explanation:

"Secondary processing is slang. It means that if the whole thing can't be sold, it's disassembled and processed into spare parts. Corneas, internal organs, bone marrow, specific serum separation..."

Stephen Chow didn't continue the topic; he rolled up his sleeves and began assigning tasks.

"Cousin, go to the town pharmacy and 'borrow' some broad-spectrum antibiotics and fever reducers."

The strategist was completely bewildered: "Borrow? I've only ever stolen, never lent."

"We are a legitimate organization! We won't take a single needle or thread from the people!"

Stephen Chow then made the following arrangements:

"Brother, you're in charge of security and guard duty. Miguel, go get some water. I'll scrape the rotten flesh off this young comrade."

More than an hour later.

The King of Cards climbed into the wine cellar carrying two large plastic bags.

One bag was full of medicine, and the other bag contained a dozen or so steaming hot Mexican burritos.

After applying the medicine to Lucas, Stephen Chow washed his hands with a bottle of aged Bordeaux, opened his notebook, and began to mutter:

"Medical expenses are for life-saving purposes, and the reimbursement amount is reasonable. The wraps improve employee meals and comply with financial regulations. But cousin, what's with those clinking coins in your pocket? It's a matter of conduct!"

The strategist took a big bite of his burrito and protested, "The cashier didn't have any change. I can't possibly pay out of my own pocket to make it round up!"

Wolverine suddenly added, "Because you didn't pay any principal at all."

The atmosphere in the wine cellar became much more lively because of this little incident.

The four mutant survivors who had narrowly escaped death were finally given hot food.

Wolverine looked at those faces from afar, and his usually hard facial features became very unnatural.

"Come and sit down, child."

Martha suddenly waved to him.

Wolverine frowned and replied gruffly, "I'm older than you, ma'am!"

Martha swallowed the piece of pastry: "In my eyes, you are all just pitiful children."

The lone wolf, its hands covered in blood, was unusually silent, standing still for three minutes before slowly shuffling over to take the burrito.

Not long after, the gerbil, who had volunteered to go out and gather information, emerged from its burrow and brought back a message.

Silver Peak's search team did not pursue them; they were clearing the landslide stronghold and destroying all areas containing paper documents and storage devices.

"Are they looking for something?" Gambit pointed out astutely.

Nina nodded and stared at the gerbil.

"Uncle, there's... a silver thread on you."

She gestured with her hands: "That line connects to so many locked doors, it feels very heavy."

The gerbil's expression changed drastically; that was the encryption key he had just stolen!

His legs went weak, and the key slipped out and fell to the ground.

The commotion drew everyone's attention.

Stephen Chow bent down, picked up the silver key, and weighed it in his hand.

"Comrade Miguel, the first round of discussions is over. We will now proceed to the second round of in-depth exchanges."

The gerbil was covered in cold sweat: "I...I just wanted to take it to the black market to get some money for my escape!"

The strategist stared at the unique identification code on the key, his eyes narrowing: "This level of independent encryption key is usually used to open offline databases."

"It seems they still have quite a few secrets..."