"Sigh."
"We're finally about to reach the measurement site."
The white-haired elder adjusted the collar of his brown robe, his hair meticulously combed without a trace of disorder. Those weathered eyes seemed to speak of the passage of years.
He sighed softly.
He was a renowned scientist from Sinovera, famed both at home and abroad in certain fields—a world-class scholar, standing at the forefront of contemporary technology.
His name was Professor Victor Zhou.
"So tired."
"Let's sit here and rest for a while."
As a leading figure in Sinovera's scientific community, Professor Zhou was already over seventy years old—hardly able to endure such long journeys, let alone travel through this terrifying region haunted by countless Demons and Specters. The psychological pressure alone was enough to break a person's spirit.
He was a scientist, not a martial practitioner.
These past days, he had often witnessed bizarre, ferocious Demons and Specters firsthand. If not for the escorts surrounding him, Professor Zhou would have died countless times already.
"Huff..."
Professor Zhou sat down on a rock and wiped the fine sweat from his forehead.
Beside him,
stood a middle-aged man named Mike Lee, his face showing traces of hardship and experience.
Hearing Professor Zhou's sigh, he finally stopped walking, as if startled out of deep thought. A hint of confusion flashed in his eyes.
"Hey, Assistant Lee," said one of the martial escorts, chewing on a blade of grass and grinning at Mike Lee. "As an assistant, you're not doing your job—aren't you going to pour Professor Zhou a cup of water?"
At this moment,
There were about eleven martial practitioners present, all high-tier Martial Generals. They stood guard around Professor Zhou and Mike Lee, forming an impenetrable defensive formation.
Professor Zhou and Mike Lee, meanwhile, were just ordinary civilians—unarmed and defenseless.
"Sigh."
Professor Victor Zhou smoothed his white hair and let out a long sigh.
"Heh, what brings on that sudden sigh?" The Martial General scratched his head and asked with a curious, cheerful smile, "Professor Zhou, what exactly is your mission out here?"
This whole operation was exceedingly strange.
In short, their task was to escort Professor Zhou and Mike Lee across more than a thousand kilometers of border, apparently searching for key nodes and observing critical details.
But.
What exactly were they observing?
The Martial General's face showed inquisitiveness, his eyes crinkling into slits as he smiled.
"Haha, we're observing celestial phenomena." Professor Zhou gestured at the sophisticated instruments in his bag, some resembling telescopes, highlighting their extraordinary nature. "The northwest of Sinovera suffers from chronic drought. If we study the climate shifts, perhaps we can find a solution."
"Oh."
The Martial General nodded.
The other ten Martial Generals also glanced at Professor Zhou, silently guarding the perimeter and occasionally dispatching minor Demons and Specters.
"Tss."
Professor Zhou flicked his right hand, reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit it, drawing in a deep breath of smoke.
Beside him, Mike Lee asked, "Professor, why are you smoking?"
"Just focus on your own work as an assistant." Professor Zhou snorted, a touch of annoyance in his voice. "Do I need to report my smoking to you?"
"S-Smoking isn't good for you," Mike Lee stammered.
"Shut your mouth." Professor Zhou suddenly looked up, his gaze fierce as he stared at Mike Lee, as if long-held dissatisfaction was boiling over.
"Smoking is bad for your health," Mike Lee replied dryly.
"Enough!"
Professor Zhou snapped.
......
Ten minutes later.
The white-haired elder, Professor Zhou, was thoroughly enraged. His fury erupted, and he turned on his assistant Mike Lee, their relationship fracturing beyond repair like a split after a fierce quarrel.
Swish, swish.
The twelve-person team moved on, now one person fewer.
"Sigh, too pitiful," one Martial General murmured, glancing at the renowned scientist Professor Zhou before shaking his head and quietly adding, "Leaving Mike Lee out here alone means certain death."
Hmph.
Professor Zhou snorted.
His white hair trembled as he strode forward, face flushed with anger, pushing on through the biting wind and winter sunlight with relentless determination.
A long while passed.
"Pitiful people always have their faults!" Professor Zhou swept his gaze over the Martial Generals and gave a cold snort. "Forget about him. We need to hurry to the final node—that's the key to completing our mission."
Swish, swish.
The remaining Martial Generals exchanged glances and continued onward.
Huff, huff.
Professor Zhou gasped for breath, his aged face looking even older, his stooped frame seeming to lose its vitality as he struggled toward the final node.
"Cough, cough, cough."
He coughed violently and adjusted his black-rimmed glasses.
A Martial General hurried to support the white-haired Professor Zhou, concern in his voice: "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
Professor Zhou waved a hand and pressed onward.
On his still-angry face, a fleeting trace of sorrow and fear passed by, as if he were a worn-out puppet on its last legs.
Tired.
Truly exhausted.
At over seventy years old, Professor Zhou was utterly spent.
This was an extremely important, top-secret mission—no trivial matter. It involved not just Sinovera, but the future trajectory of humanity as a whole... and he, of course, bore an extraordinary responsibility.
If all went smoothly...
The problem that had plagued humanity for so long could finally be solved, a proper solution proposed, and true resolution would be within reach!
Wrong.
Terribly wrong.
"I have to admit, I underestimated your intelligence."
"I didn't expect the World United Research Organization to have your kind among its ranks."
"But." Professor Zhou straightened his brown lapel and, facing the winter sunlight, felt a surge of courage and open-heartedness: "You could never have guessed—the scientist codenamed White Dragon isn't a real scientist at all, but an assistant. An assistant who has kept his talents hidden for ten years."
Crack.
His right foot came down, snapping a dry twig.
Professor Zhou took out a small towel, his eyes filled with gentle affection and nostalgia. It was hand-woven by his wife, a special gift just for him.
"So soft."
He gripped the spotless white towel tightly—so tightly... Only in this way could he feel no fear.
Because—
This white towel—gave him the courage to remain among eleven terrifying Specters.