Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Quickly changing the subject, Zhou Zhengqing's brows furrowed as he asked in a deep voice, "Yingzi is missing. Have you sent anyone to look for her?"

"found!"

Zhang Xiaolan nodded affirmatively, with worry on her face: "I have searched everywhere I could, but there is no trace of him.

To be on the safe side, I even asked the guards at the gate," she emphasized, "and they all said they hadn't seen Miss Sakurako leave the house."

"Didn't go out?" Zhou Zhengqing's eyes suddenly became sharp, and the arm holding Huihui tightened a little involuntarily.

Huihui seemed to sense the change in atmosphere and rubbed her little head restlessly in his arms.

The door is still open! Sakurako is missing!

Itai Yudai...isn't he in the underground cell right now?

These two pieces of information were like ice cones, colliding in Zhou Zhengqing's mind in an instant!

Could it be that... where did these two bastards go to do those shady things again?!

Thinking of this, Zhou Zhengqing wanted to go to the underground cell more and more.

Just then, the sound of leather shoes hitting the floor was heard.

Hearing the sound, I looked towards the stairs and saw Sakurako, who was dressed exquisitely in a dress and a small hat, coming up the stairs.

Um... No, it's Reiko...

Sakurako usually wears kimono or military uniform in the headquarters and only occasionally wears a skirt when going out, while Reiko likes to wear skirts no matter where she is.

"Miss Yingzi, where have you been? Huizi has been looking for you everywhere, but she has been crying for a long time because she couldn't find you." Zhang Xiaolan said immediately when she saw the person coming.

Hearing this, Lingzi looked up and met Zhou Zhengqing's gaze.

The next moment, the faint smile on Lingzi's face changed into a smile as sweet as Yingzi's: "I just went out for a walk, and I didn't expect Huizi to wake up."

As she spoke, Lingzi walked over and took Huihui from Zhou Zhengqing's arms.

As for the little girl Huihui, her eyes were wide open, and she looked at Lingzi's face in a silly and cute way, her little nose twitching a few times, as if she was trying to figure out something.

"Oh, Huizi, are you sleepy? Why are you looking at me like that?" Lingzi said, lowered her head and kissed Huizi on the face, then took out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from the little girl's face.

"Why are you crying like a big cat? Stop crying, it won't look good if you keep crying."

Seeing Huihui stopped crying in Lingzi's arms, Zhou Zhengqing quickly said, "Yingzi, take Huizi out to play. I still have things to take care of."

"Okay, Master. Go ahead and get busy." Lingzi nodded. When Zhou Zhengqing reached the entrance of the corridor, she said to Huihui, who was staring at him adorably in her arms, "Huizi, brother doesn't even want to hug you. You won't kiss brother anymore, okay?"

Upon hearing this, Zhou Zhengqing quickly quickened his pace. Taking care of children is really tiring.

. . . . . . . . . .

The dim wall lamps cast flickering spots of light on the concrete walls. The strong smell of mold mixed with the pungent smell of rust and disinfectant created a unique suffocating feeling in this underground fortress.

Zhou Zhengqing's military boots made a hollow echo as they stepped on the cold concrete steps, and each step seemed to knock on the deep throat of the prison.

The guard captain's respectful yet slightly nervous report was still ringing in my ears: "General, Section Chief Itai...he's gone to the second basement floor."

The entrance to the second floor is like the throat of a giant beast.

Two Slavic men, nearly two meters tall, stood in the shadows like stone sculptures, the MP34 submachine guns tightly grasped in their hands emitting a cold, hard blue light in the dim light.

The looks they cast at him were filled with scrutiny and indifference, eyes that had truly been tempered by blood and fire. However, when they saw that the person coming was Zhou Zhengqing, they immediately forced out an awkward smile. It seemed that they wanted to smile, but it was too stiff.

As soon as Zhou Zhengqing stopped at the entrance, steady and oppressive footsteps came from the darkness below.

A figure, stepping up the steps, slowly rose from the deeper shadows.

The man was extremely tall and sturdy, estimated to be over 1.85 meters tall, with broad shoulders and back that seemed able to carry a mountain.

He had a carefully trimmed short beard on his chin, and a striking scarlet scarf was casually draped around his neck, like a trace of solidified blood.

On the tactical belt around the waist, several Type 97 grenades, commonly known as "melon grenades", and sharp combat daggers are shocking.

The most eye-catching thing was the bulging tactical vest he was wearing. Each magazine pocket was filled with 34-round straight magazines specially used for MP32, hanging heavily on his chest like a layer of metal armor.

A walking arsenal...

He walked to the only relatively bright light at the entrance, and the light finally clearly outlined the unforgettable face.

There was a hideous scar on the left side of his face, running diagonally from the cheekbone to the jaw like a centipede, adding a bit of ferocity to his originally rugged features.

Under the tactical vest was an old, washed-out Russian crew-neck shirt. At the open collar, a complex and ancient Slavic rune tattoo was entwined above the collarbone, revealing mystery and wildness.

He walked quickly towards Zhou Zhengqing, his steps carrying the neatness and strength unique to battlefield veterans.

"BOSS, you're here!" His voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of Eastern European accent, and it was particularly clear in the empty passage: "Is there a new mission?" The pair of heterochromatic pupils flickered in the light, the left eye was a cold Nordic blue, and the right eye was a burning amber gold.

Without waiting for Zhou Zhengqing to answer, he changed the subject and patted the butt of the MP34 submachine gun on his back with obvious dissatisfaction: "But before the mission, let me give you a small suggestion, this thing." He curled his lips, his tone full of disgust.

"MP34, mm Parabellum rounds, it's like a tickle on the target, the stopping power is pathetic!

And this damn straight magazine, with a capacity of only 32 rounds, the firepower sustainability is a joke! The time it takes to change the magazine is enough for the enemy to shoot me into a sieve ten times! We need more...

"Stop!" Zhou Zhengqing suddenly raised his hand: "Makarov, what were your first two sentences?"

Makarov was interrupted, his heterochromatic pupils shrank slightly, he pondered for a moment, and shrugged his shoulders: "First, I asked the boss if there was a new task.

Second, I'd like to offer you some small suggestions regarding this damned firewood stick." His words were more restrained, but his dissatisfaction was still clearly discernible.

"Yes," Zhou Zhengqing nodded expressionlessly, "There are no new tasks. Your current task is to guard this second underground floor.

As for suggestions, forget it. The MP34 is the best equipment I can give you right now, and it's more than enough."

Upon hearing this, Makarov's lips curled up into an ambiguous arc, with a hint of self-mockery and a bit of arrogance.

He angrily threw the MP34 in his hand, which he had intended to hand over to show her its flaws, back behind his back, making a crisp sound of metal collision.

He turned sideways, glanced at his companion who had been silent as a mountain at the entrance of the passage at a 45-degree angle, and said in a heavily accented Russian: "Hey, Victor, do you hear me?

It seems our new boss only listens to what he wants to hear, so it's best to forgo any suggestions."