Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

"What is that?" Scarface asked curiously.

Old Tan turned around and glared at Scarface with a cold gaze: "Don't ask questions you shouldn't ask. Don't you understand the rules? Just bring the things here."

As he spoke, Old Tan spread out a piece of paper the size of a newspaper on the table.

The paper was densely covered with directions and annotations in tiny calligraphy, as well as very rough, sloppy line markings. Only those who had handled this map could barely understand the terrain it represented.

“Scarface.” Old Tan pointed his finger at an inconspicuous ink dot in the upper left corner of the drawing. Next to the ink dot was a very difficult-to-recognize symbol scribbled: “Take your men to the corner of Pasteur Street, the Catholic Church, and the cellar.

Look, it's right there.

There will be Japanese guards, so be careful and don't make too much noise."

Scarface immediately took a step forward, narrowed his eyes, and pressed hard on that spot with his thickly calloused fingers. His fingertips rubbed the special symbol that only he could recognize twice, as if to confirm its authenticity.

He grinned: "Stationmaster, don't worry, don't you know how I work?" The scar twisted in the dim light, like a centipede crawling, and a low but excited chuckle came from his throat.

"Old Mazi!" Old Tan continued to call out names, pointing to another marked spot relatively close to the riverbank. Next to it were a few extremely sloppily written symbols, like hydrological markers. "Take Skinny Monkey and Old Nian'er, and go to the Tianhou Temple in the Old City."

He tapped the deity symbol with his fingertips, then drew a downward arrow: "The mechanism leads to a hidden river! Act quickly!"

A man who was as thin as skin and bones, but whose eyes moved faster than a snake, stood up suddenly and nodded silently.

The two equally skinny and silent figures behind him also straightened their backs.

"Wild boar." Old Tan's voice was calm as he pointed to a mark in the middle of the map, near the fork in the road. Next to it were a few minimalist outlines of Buddha statues. "South bank of the fork in the river, Stone Buddha Temple." He slammed his finger heavily on the symbol for the main hall. "The main Buddha's base is probably fake. There's a hidden chamber underneath.

Bring the clown, the night hawk, the stone, and the bald man over there."

A short, stocky man with a physique as solid as an iron block, his face full of pits and pockmarks, grunted in his throat and nodded in response.

"The last one." Old Tan's voice finally paused, a tiny pause in his voice, but he immediately concealed it. He pointed his finger at a dot on the far right side of the map, almost at the edge of the Japanese Concession: "Miyajima Street, near the corner of Nakajima-cho, the small white building with a garden."

Look at the last two people, "Sick Tiger" and "Mad Dog"!

"You two, follow me!" Old Tan said calmly, "This is the toughest place! It's the Japanese Concession! If you make any movement, the Japanese will find you!"

The two people who were named looked up suddenly.

One had a sallow face but eyes as sinister as a vulture, while the other had a young man with a frozen, neurotic, twitching grin on the corner of his mouth.

A solemn look instantly flared in their eyes. Miyajima Street in the Japanese Concession! That was the edge of the Japanese military, police, and special forces' headquarters! Sneaking in there would be like pulling teeth out of a tiger's mouth!

"Each of you should be given a rickshaw or a cart, and use camouflage to cover it! Move quickly and make little noise!

Attention all groups, there should be no guards outside each location, but there will definitely be people defending inside!

You must bring the things back, and gather at the designated location after the mission is completed." Old Tan's voice suddenly dropped, carrying a chill like ice scraping against one's bones.

"Do it!" A short, hoarse roar like a poisonous snake burst out from Old Tan's throat.

The heavy wooden door of the side hall was silently opened and quickly closed. The human figures were like silent black streams, splitting into four streams and disappearing quickly and orderly into the darkness of the alleys connecting to different directions outside the back door of the teahouse.

Old Tan, Sick Tiger and Mad Dog were the last to come.

Only after the other three groups of people left did Old Tan roll up the map and put it in his arms.

The figure disappeared outside the door in the night like solidified ink, leaving only a mess of cigarette butts on the ground in the side hall and a pungent but quickly cooling murderous smell in the room, proving that there had been a moment of unrest here.

. . . . . . . . .

The cellar of the Catholic Church on Pasteur Road in the French Concession

The mottled moonlight filtered through the broken stained glass, casting strange, distorted, and swaying blocks of color on the empty and cold floor of the cathedral.

The scarred, short and sturdy figure clung to the cold shadow of the huge pillar, like a piece of dark moss attached to a rock.

Behind him were "Bobcat" and "Groundhog". The three of them were like weightless shadows, stepping on the gravel and dust on the ground without making even the slightest sound.

"Here!" Scarface's voice was so low, almost just a vibration of his Adam's apple.

The mountain cat behind him immediately flashed out like a civet cat, and a pair of gloves were put on his hands without him knowing.

He knelt on his knees, almost lying on the ground.

As a wooden board on the ground was lifted.

The secret door opened, and the thick and insoluble stench from deep underground and the smell of disinfectant wrapped in cold air gushed out like substance.

Scarface was the first to squeeze in sideways, his movements as swift as an arrow, without any hesitation or waiting in the darkness.

His eyes were as sharp as an eagle, and had penetrated the turbid air that was blowing in his face.

At this moment! In the shadows, a very slight sound of metal friction was heard.

There's a living thing! Guard!

But Scarface was even faster! Before he could even think of turning around, his body's instinctive reaction had already surpassed his brain's instructions!

The moment he smelled the disinfectant, every muscle in his body entered the highest level of killing readiness.

The guard's movement only triggered his preset trigger!

No revealing roar of gunfire!

Scarface swung his left arm with a speed that defied human limits! A specially made, poison-tempered piece of corrugated iron, the size of a child's palm, its edges polished into a sharp crescent-shaped arc, as thin as a cicada's wing yet gleaming with a cold light—a weapon often used by escorts in olden days, an extremely vicious cold weapon for close combat—was hurled out like a flying knife, accompanied by a piercing scream that pierced the air!

His body did not stop moving the moment he swung out the hidden weapon, but pounced towards another box like a cheetah. With his right hand, he touched his waist, and a bayonet that was completely black with only a shiny blade and deep blood grooves on three sides was pulled out halfway!

All the movements were completed in a flash, so fast that only afterimages were left on the retina!

"Puchi!" The dull sound of a sharp weapon entering the flesh and a short, extremely suppressed groan sounded simultaneously from the left corner.

The extremely sharp piece of iron accurately pierced the throat of a figure who had just half of his body stuck out from behind the debris and was about to raise the muzzle of his gun!

The hidden weapon penetrated into the cervical vertebra!

The black shadow's body stiffened, and two "gurgling" sounds like air leaking came from his throat. The weapon slipped out of his hand and his body collapsed limply.

He couldn't even see the attacker's face!