"So, who is this fucking bitch?"
"That was my first question when I learned she existed. The most direct answer is: this woman is our enemy. She moved against the Tiberius Laboratory at the same time we did, and unfortunately, she beat us to the punch and stole half our intel."
"Folks, she managed to escape from the hands of the 'God' organization, so clearly she's got some skills. But according to our investigation, she's not listed in the top thirty, or even top two hundred, of the Heaven Rankings. Sure, we don't know who all those shadowy cardholders really are, but I do know one thing: this woman is not among the very top players."
"What does that tell us? It means she's good at running—like some sneaky assassin or a shadow in the night. But shadows can't survive in the sunlight. People like her, once you catch a whiff of their trail, are ridiculously easy to handle. And just yesterday, we found her."
Swipe—her sketch turned into actual photos: front, side, back, every angle covered. These shots came from street cams, Weibo, Twitter, Moments—from all over the web. In this age of instant beauty shots, in this era where five minutes of charging gets you two hours of calls, someone like Ms. Yang can’t hide for long—especially since she doesn’t bother trying.
"Who is she? The precise answer: she's the Executive Director of Eternal Night Holdings Group, internal codename: Her Majesty the Queen."
"Did you hear that, folks? Her Majesty the Queen? Ha, I almost want to laugh out loud! What does that tell us? It tells us our enemy is full of herself. Just a nouveau riche, a clueless country bumpkin, and she’s already this inflated. As for Eternal Night Holdings Group, you don’t need to know much—just know who’s behind it."
Swipe—the images kept coming, and suddenly a notorious crime boss popped up on the screen.
"Jonathan Black, the Zade House’s abandoned son. Now we know exactly who’s fighting us for the Golden Apple, for the gods’ gifts—a pathetic, lowly, worm, a mongrel with filthy blood."
"This worm stole half our intel. We have no idea how much he knows, so we treat him as the highest threat. But no matter what, whatever he wants—we sabotage it. Whatever he tries—we block it. The ones 'God' can’t catch, we can. The ones 'God' can’t kill, we’ll finish off. Crush a worm, warn an ally—sounds like a good deal to me."
So what exactly are they after?
Today, we tracked their movements. They think they're flawless, but remember, our Zade House started out in Great Britain. Trying to pull tricks in the birthplace of Western civilization, in our own backyard, is laughable. We know exactly who they're after—Kensington L. Orland.
Some of you might not know him, so let me introduce him briefly. He's a professor of genetics, biology, and medicine at Cambridge, a visiting professor at Harvard, a founding figure in modern genetic engineering, and the chief engineer of the Human Genome Project. Only four people in history have won the Nobel Prize twice, and Kensington is about to be the fifth.
That worm will definitely go after him, because this old guy with a brain full of purines and pyrimidines is his mother’s teacher. The worm will go after him because out of everyone alive in London, only this old man has a deep connection to the Heart of Tiberius—he personally designed its laboratory.
We don’t know what’s in that half of the intel, so we don’t know if this old man has the Void Coordinates. We absolutely cannot let that worm get near him—in fact, we can’t let anyone get near him. For safety’s sake, this old man must die.
Tonight, 6 p.m. London time, the old man will receive the Order of the British Empire, Knight Grand Cross, from Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace. All eyes will be on him, it’s the peak of his life—and the perfect time to send him to meet his maker. Even if Jonathan and that woman rush over, all they’ll see is his head exploding—and walk right into our trap.
First, take out the old man. Then, finish off Jonathan. And finally, kill that woman.
Move fast.
Act with precision.
Keep it clean.
Wipe them out.
Remember, when beasts hunt, they go all out. We need to do a clean, beautiful job if we want to intimidate our allies. Show your skills, bring out the full power of the Britannia Division, and don’t worry about making a scene—on the eve of becoming gods, a king deserves a little fireworks.
Go.
—————————————————— Arriving at the England border ——————————————————
In world history, England is a country that must be written about in bold. This tiny island has given rise to the once-global British Empire. Whether you judge by military, economics, science, arts, or international influence, England is undeniably an old powerhouse.
Because of its achievements in astronomy, Greenwich Mean Time is recognized internationally as the global standard. Britain is the world's zero time zone. Beijing is eight hours ahead of London, and if you take a fast plane, flying east to London takes about eight hours. So Jill Young got to experience the absurdity and fun of 'boarding and landing at the same hour'—like carving a mark on a boat and actually finding the sword later.
[Irrelevant web reader note skipped as per guidelines.]
During those eight hours, Jill Young did nothing but sleep. She’d drained her mental energy so much that as soon as she got on the plane, she was out cold. No matter how loud the engines were or how much turbulence there was—even when Jonathan Black spilled his milk—she didn’t even twitch.
Ever since she mastered her training, Jill Young had never slept this long before. This time, she slept like the world was ending—completely dead to the world. She took off at night, landed at night, and after eight solid hours, as the plane lowered its landing gear, Jill’s eyelids finally fluttered open.
Ahhh—' Jill Young yawned wide and stretched, instantly feeling re-energized and ready to go.
That nap was amazing!
She glanced out the window at the brightly lit city below. The view reminded her of the moment she first flew into Steelbull City. With her extraordinary eyesight, London’s ancient yet modern cityscape revealed itself in stunning detail.
No wonder it’s one of the birthplaces of modern capitalism, and one of the few countries that still has a royal family. Down below, London sparkles with both the sleek vibe of modern technology and the stately grandeur of classical art—truly breathtaking.
This is London, this is Britain.' Jonathan Black gazed out too, his eyes sharp and deep. 'This is where our rocky journey begins.'
Hey, rookie, we’re almost there. I need to give you a couple instructions.' Jill Young’s eyes flashed with a sudden sharpness. 'No more nonsense—from now on, we only use codenames, no real names.'
Got it.' Jonathan Black nodded in agreement. 'Western countries invest heavily in their intelligence agencies, and as an old powerhouse, Britain set up a robust surveillance system long ago. We don’t know what dangers we’ll face this time, and we’ll definitely need Bobby Brooks providing intel from the rear. Total radio silence is impossible. To avoid being noticed, monitored, or tracked by British intelligence—and to keep things simple—changing our names is basic protocol. There’s a lot to picking a codename, and I’m impressed you know your stuff.'
Me? Uh, cough, cough, I know a little.' Jill Young coughed theatrically, then said seriously, 'When I did infiltration missions, my codename was Snake. I’ll tell you, when I used Snake, I was on fire—could walk past a hundred bald guys doing the can-can and not get caught. It totally works!'
Snake?' Jonathan Black nodded thoughtfully. 'Good name. Snakes are great at hiding—stealthy and deadly. It’s perfect for a spy. But why do I get the feeling you just ripped it off from playing too much Metal Gear Solid?'
It’s got nothing to do with video games! And anyway, that’s ancient history. Love your job, right? Now that we’re agents, we’ve got to switch identities and codenames with every mission—like in the movies, like real spies!' Jill Young made a chopping motion in the air. 'New place, new mission, new vibe—a whole new career starts with a codename!'
Makes sense.' Jonathan Black nodded, then asked curiously, 'So what’s mine?'
Let me think. It’s got to fit the situation, stand out, and mean something…' Jill Young tapped her chin, then snapped her fingers. 'My new codename is BIG-BOSS!'
Jonathan Black immediately lost it. “And you say it has nothing to do with video games?!”
I do what I want—mind your own business.' Jill Young’s eyes turned sly. 'Since you’re so sharp, rookie, I’ll personally give you a codename as your welcome gift.'
No, wait—' Jonathan Black shook his head quickly. 'I think I can come up with one myself…'
Objection overruled. The court has issued its final verdict—the organization officially confirms your codename: Jason Bond.