With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

After finishing breakfast in the space, Jiang Zhiyu tidied her curly hair in front of the mirror. She had deliberately permed her long hair into soft, large waves and applied a touch of Western-style light makeup—her eyes were slightly upturned at the corners, and she chose a low-key dusty rose lip color, which blended into the local atmosphere without being too flashy. After changing into a beige suit skirt she had brought from Hong Kong and wearing stiletto heels, she looked exactly like a wealthy businesswoman's daughter visiting San Francisco for business.

She picked up the note given to her by Commander Li, her fingertip tracing the name "Chen Jianzhong." The embassy was crowded and rife with suspicious individuals; contacting the undercover intelligence agent first would be safer. The note stated that Chen Jianzhong, using the alias John Chen, ran a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, had a wife named Lin Fang, and a daughter named Chen Tiantian.

Following the address, Jiang Zhiyu walked into the alley deep in Chinatown. The four characters "Chen's Restaurant" on the mottled wall had long faded, and a handwritten "Open for Business" sign was pasted on the wooden door. The wind chimes hanging there tinkled when she pushed the door open.

Behind the counter, a middle-aged man wearing an oil-stained apron was wiping the table. He glanced up at her, his gaze lingering on her face for a couple of seconds: "What would you like to eat?"

"Fried rice," Jiang Zhiyu said softly. "With an egg, but no scallions."

This was the agreed-upon code. The man paused, the dishcloth draped over his shoulder shifted, he glanced at the living room, and tilted his head towards the kitchen: "The kitchen will tell you."

Jiang Zhiyu followed him through the greasy kitchen, past rows of stoves, and lifted the curtain to enter a small cubicle piled high with spice baskets. A yellowed map of China was pasted on the wall, its edges curled and frayed.

"From Shanghai?" Chen Jianzhong turned around, his eyes no longer casual, but sharp.

Jiang Zhiyu nodded.

He picked up a soy sauce jar, unscrewed the lid, and took out a key: "This is the key to the apartment upstairs. You can stay here for now. Come for dinner at this time tomorrow, and I'll take you to meet the other two comrades through the back door. It's business hours now, so I can't leave."

"I have a place to stay." Jiang Zhiyu pushed the key back. "Tell me where they last disappeared, and I'll go take a look now."

Chen Jianzhong glanced at her, grabbed a menu, and wrote the address on the back: "Professor Sun's house. He and Commander Song went missing in that area. Remember, don't act rashly; wait until everyone is together tomorrow before making a decision."

"Know."

Just then, they heard the voices of guests outside. Chen Jianzhong turned around and brought a bowl of noodles from the stove to Jiang Zhiyu: "Have something to tide you over before you leave."

Jiang Zhiyu carried the noodles back to the hall and saw Chen Jianzhong's wife, Lin Fang, taking orders from two tables of customers. Little Chen Tiantian was squatting in a corner playing with a doll. She found a corner to sit down, finished her noodles in a few bites, left $10 on the table, and seeing that the couple was busy, she got up and left.

Stepping out of the restaurant, the bustling atmosphere of Chinatown immediately enveloped her. Red lanterns hung from the arcades, the aroma of Chinese medicine mingled with the sweet scents of pastry shops, and elderly people in long robes brushed past young people in jeans, Cantonese, English, and Hokkien mingling together. Jiang Zhiyu strolled leisurely, seemingly admiring the sugar paintings on the street, but actually scanning her surroundings with her spiritual power—the place appeared peaceful, but many eyes lurked in the shadows.

Jiang Zhiyu remembered the US dollars in her spatial storage and immediately started buying things as she walked: congee with preserved egg and lean pork, char siu wonton noodles, radish cake, fried dough sticks, salt and pepper baked crab, honey-glazed char siu, stir-fried beef noodles, oyster sauce kale, as well as shrimp dumplings, siu mai, char siu buns, chicken feet, and sticky rice chicken. Seventeen sighed and facepalmed; as a system, it sometimes truly couldn't understand its master's thought process. Jiang Zhiyu bought things while turning into a corner to store them in her spatial storage. Seeing that she had bought enough, she hailed a taxi and gave Professor Sun's community address.

The car soon stopped at the entrance of the block, and Jiang Zhiyu clearly felt several sharp gazes sweep over her. "Seventeen, scan."

[Host, there are 11 suspicious individuals around! Four people with sniper rifles are on the rooftop across from Professor Sun's house, three plainclothes officers are on the street corner, and four more are patrolling disguised as passersby. They are paying particular attention to people with Chinese features.]

Jiang Zhiyu smoothed her curly hair, took off her sunglasses, revealing her meticulously applied eye makeup. She deliberately walked with an air of allure in her high heels towards Professor Sun's house. As she passed the building across the street, she even flicked her hair towards the window and checked her makeup.

The sniper on the rooftop visibly froze, shifting his gun away from her—this woman looked like a tourist. Jiang Zhiyu immediately used her mental abilities to quickly scan the building, surprised to find a hidden passage.

[Host, they've lowered their guard!]

Jiang Zhiyu didn't stop. She walked to the street corner, turned into the alley, and flashed into her spatial dimension. She changed out of her suit dress, put on a black bodysuit, and donned a mask, revealing only her eyes. "Seventeen, teleport to the basement of that building."

[Insufficient energy; can only teleport to the back alley of the villa. The rest is up to you.]

With a flash of light, Jiang Zhiyu landed in a back alley filled with garbage cans. Avoiding the surveillance cameras, she climbed up to the second floor by following the drainpipe and using the vines as cover, and climbed through an unlocked window—it was a storage room, covered in dust.

Following Seventeen's directions, she found the secret door leading to the basement. She had barely opened it a crack when she heard footsteps below. Seventeen called out, "Two people, armed." She held her breath, waiting for the footsteps to fade into the distance before silently slipping down.

The basement was a long corridor with damp walls and exposed electrical wires. Jiang Zhiyu used her mental energy to navigate like radar, avoiding the patrolling guards. At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door, where two guards were leaning against the wall smoking.

She gathered wood-type powers at her fingertips, and two vines quietly wrapped around the guard's ankles—using poison-type powers, she applied hallucinogenic toxins to the small green buds at the tips of the vines, which would cause hallucinations upon contact with the skin.

Sure enough, after a short while, the two guards stared blankly and became dazed.

"Where do we go from here?" Jiang Zhiyu asked in standard American English.

"East... East Bay abandoned shipyard..." Jiang Zhiyu continued, "What's inside?" Another guard mumbled, "The laboratory is downstairs..."

"What does the lab research?"

"Detection technology... cosmic rays... high-energy particles..."

"Where are the arrested researchers and those Chinese people being held?"

"The lowest level..."

Jiang Zhiyu noted down the information, erased their memories with her mental power, and turned to walk back. Footsteps echoed in the passageway again, and she quickly hid in the nearby storage room, watching a patrol team pass by.

This laboratory seems to be quite something, as it's hidden beneath a residential area and connected to a shipyard.

Once the patrolmen were out of sight, she retraced her steps, climbed out of the villa, changed back into her suit dress in the alley, and put her sunglasses back on. The plainclothes officers who had been loitering around the street corner looked at her with suspicion as she emerged from the alley, but didn't approach her to question her—after all, who would suspect someone who had just bought souvenirs?

Jiang Zhiyu hailed a taxi and gave the address of East Bay. Outside the car window, the red lanterns of Chinatown gradually disappeared into the distance. She leaned back in her seat, her fingers gently tapping her knees.

This shipyard seems to be something special; I'll have to investigate it thoroughly tonight.