Chapter Four: Do You Wish to Desecrate the Divine?

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Wang Zheng gazed at the streets of Jinghua City, and before he knew it, eight years had passed. The city had changed so much that he could barely recognize it. He remembered that when he left, the tallest buildings had only been a little over twenty stories, and even those were few and far between. Now, everywhere he looked, there were high-rises of twenty, forty stories, broad avenues, and luxury cars streaming endlessly. Wang Zheng felt fortunate he hadn’t acted on his own; otherwise, he would have gotten hopelessly lost.

The car stopped in front of a thirty-six-story building. Wang Zheng stepped out, craned his neck to take in the skyscraper that disappeared into the sky, and marveled that the organization had become so “modern,” working in such a luxurious place. He recalled how, back in the day, he’d worked with a dozen colleagues in a little three-story building. He wondered how many of them were still alive.

The elevator halted at the thirty-fifth floor. Guided by a beautiful woman he’d met earlier, Wang Zheng entered one of the offices.

The office was vast, as big as a basketball court, but simply furnished—just a desk, a chair, and a bookshelf, nothing more. When Wang Zheng entered, only three people were inside: two men and a woman. The emptiness made the space feel all the more extravagant.

A beauty! Wang Zheng’s eyes lit up, and he straightened his vest, smoothed out the two feathers on his head, then strode forward to stand face-to-face with the woman.

“The prince and the princess got married and lived shamelessly ever after. I’m the prince—would you like to be my princess?” Wang Zheng looked at the woman with utmost seriousness.

She was elegant, refined, and had exquisite features and a tall, graceful figure. Perhaps it was because he’d seen too many dark-skinned women in Africa, but now, every time Wang Zheng saw fair skin, he just wanted to pursue it.

The woman shot him a frosty glance, her chill so biting that Wang Zheng felt as if the room’s temperature had plummeted below zero.

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? Yin and yang joining together is a law of nature, like the sun and the moon in the sky—they complement each other, neither can be without the other. And as a man, I’m obliged to turn girls into women,” Wang Zheng said shamelessly. The woman’s icy demeanor did nothing to quell the fire in his chest, freshly returned from the African Sahara. Desperate to capture her attention, he even began to sing loudly:

“My passion is like a blazing fire, burning up the whole desert! Even the sun dodges me, afraid of the flames of my love!”

“Wang Zheng, eight years have passed and you haven’t changed a bit!” boomed a middle-aged man who had been quietly seated, watching Wang Zheng serenade his subordinate.

“A hero never asks about the road ahead, and a rascal never cares about his age. My good qualities only grow stronger with time!” Wang Zheng replied with a grin, ceasing his song. Under everyone’s gaze, he hopped up onto the desk, looked down at the seated man, and, in a mocking tone, called out, “Well, well! Since when did Captain become the big boss? That executive chair looks comfortable!”

The middle-aged man smiled, but it was obvious to anyone that his expression was strained, tinged with embarrassment.

“Captain, if something’s bothering you, just say it—we could use a laugh!”

“Wang Zheng, is your tongue still as sharp as ever? Are you still mad about being sent to Africa?” the man asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare! I had a great time with the tribes. Communication was by shouting, transportation by walking, security by dogs, warmth by shivering, sleeplessness by hand, clothes by leaves—anything you can think of, I had it!” Wang Zheng replied through gritted teeth, his jaw audibly grinding. His eyes glinted with a wildness that made people wonder if he might just turn cannibal.

“You’ve completed your missions well these past few years. I’ve already requested a reward for you; I’m pulling you back from Africa—what’s wrong?” the middle-aged man asked, puzzled, as Wang Zheng’s hostility suddenly gave way to a look of surprise.

“Whenever someone praises me, I feel uneasy—mainly because they haven’t praised me enough!” Wang Zheng replied with a smile. “But I didn’t come back for a reward, nor to follow your orders. The reason I stayed in Africa for eight years before coming back is simple: I quit!”

“Quit? Then what do you plan to do?” The man was taken aback. He knew Wang Zheng harbored resentment about being sent to Africa, but he hadn’t expected him to actually say he was done. Losing Wang Zheng would be a major blow to the organization.

“What will I do? Sit around waiting for money, indulge in pleasure, enjoy both wealth and beauty. Or maybe open an African-style restaurant to serve the African community in Jinghua. Do you really think someone like me would go hungry? As long as I didn’t die in Africa, I’ll be fine. Besides, I brought back plenty of interesting things this time!” Wang Zheng grinned, pulling a bottle of elephant liquor from his sack and taking a swig.

“If you have any conditions, just say so. Don’t be childish—this isn’t like you,” the man said with a smile.

“How about letting her sleep with me?” Wang Zheng suddenly pointed at the beautiful, icy woman beside him. “How about it, huh?”

The middle-aged man fell silent, looking awkwardly from Wang Zheng to the woman.

He had four subordinates in the room—two men and two women—none of whom had ever seen anyone speak to the chief so insolently, and the chief seemed unable to do anything about it. Who was this man? He called him captain, and now chief... Was he an old subordinate? But he looked so young!

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“Captain, may I ask you something? Of the brothers and sisters who risked their lives with us in that three-story building back in the day, how many are left? Don’t tell me they’re all doing fine—that might fool these rookies, but not me.” For the first time since entering the room, Wang Zheng spoke with genuine seriousness.

The middle-aged man frowned, clearly troubled, but after a moment, he answered, “Besides you, only two remain.”

“What? Only two?” Wang Zheng suddenly grabbed the man by the collar and growled, “You bastard, you sent everyone on life-and-death missions while you sat here in comfort, enjoying air conditioning, good food, and beautiful women...!”

“Freeze! Step away from the chief!” Suddenly, one of the men drew his pistol, the black muzzle aimed at Wang Zheng’s head. “I’ve had enough of you, whoever you are!”

“No...!” the middle-aged man shouted, but before he could finish, a scream of pain erupted from the man with the gun.

“Ahhh!”

The pistol clattered to the floor. His gun hand was now impaled by a steel pen, blood pouring out. He hadn’t even seen where it had come from.

“I’m not sparing you because you’re handsome. I just don’t want to shed blood on my first day back in the country,” Wang Zheng said coolly, tossing the pen cap on the floor to show the pen was his doing.

He turned back to the middle-aged man and asked coldly, “Who’s left, and where are they?”

“Tiger is on assignment in Southeast Asia. Su Xue works at a TV station. The rest... all died in the line of duty.”

“You—you bastard!” Wang Zheng roared, slamming his fist onto the desk. With a loud crack, the solid wood splintered, sending shards flying. His rage was palpable.

“Captain, you should be grateful those two are still alive. Otherwise, everyone in this room would pay with their lives! Don’t think I won’t do it. To me, the identity of State Security is worth less than nothing!”

“Wang Zheng, born May 8, 1983. Joined State Security at thirteen, sent to Africa at sixteen. Eight years on mission. Assassinated twenty-one anti-government leaders, fifty-three military commanders, and defeated 2,300 tribal warriors. Six months ago, you were named King of the Tribes, Africa’s Strongest Man. May I see the tribal warrior tattoo on your back?” The icy beauty, silent until now, finally spoke.

“And who are you?” Wang Zheng seemed unimpressed, sensing she was only trying to help the captain out of a tight spot.

“Bai Bing. Your new partner,” the woman replied.

“A new partner? Well, my partners have always been beautiful women, so you fit the bill. But my partners usually sleep with me—can you do that?” Wang Zheng sneered, and when the woman didn’t answer, he turned back to the captain. “I don’t like her. And once more: I quit!”

Bang!

Just as Wang Zheng finished speaking, the office door burst open. Over twenty fully armed special forces soldiers surged in, each aiming their submachine guns at Wang Zheng sitting on the desk.

Wang Zheng barely glanced at them, utterly unconcerned. He even noticed the man whose hand he’d pierced with a pen was among them, his good hand hidden behind his back, clutching a phone reflected in the window. Clearly, he’d called for reinforcements.

“Hahahaha...hahahaha!” Wang Zheng suddenly burst into wild, unrestrained laughter, filling the room with confusion and unease.

After a while, he stopped laughing, nonchalantly cleaned his ears, then turned his back to the soldiers, facing the captain. He took a deep swig of elephant liquor, then stripped off his vest to reveal his tattoo.

On his back was a vivid skull of a ram, horns spiraling upward, entwined by a gray-brown serpent with bared fangs. The snake was so lifelike it seemed to move—not an illusion, but Wang Zheng’s muscles flexing, making the serpent writhe. The eyes of the snake and the ram’s skull exuded an aura of death, chilling all who saw it.

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The black mamba tattoo on Wang Zheng’s back was alive—no, the muscles made it appear to undulate, the eyes of the snake and skull radiating a suffocating, deadly energy.

Wang Zheng turned, sneering coldly. His icy gaze was enough to freeze anyone to the bone. “Let’s not talk about whether you trash could kill me. Even if you could, would you dare? Captain, would you?”

With that, Wang Zheng leapt from the desk and strode toward the soldiers, thrusting his chest against the muzzle of a submachine gun, utterly fearless.

A man who has walked out of hell fears nothing.

“I represent tens of thousands of African tribes with histories stretching back a thousand years. If I die here, my hundreds of millions of followers will swarm in. Pharaohs, chiefs, shamans, warriors—could you handle diplomatic disputes with fifty-four African countries and thousands of tribes? Could you kill hundreds of millions of fanatics? To them, I am a god. Would you dare profane a god?”

Perhaps he’d spent too long in Africa, seen too much brutality. As he spoke, a violent, oppressive aura filled the room, amplified by the death’s head tattoo on his back. Even these elite soldiers felt their hearts quake. Such a presence can only be forged through rivers of blood. He was a demon god, and unless a goddess descended from the heavens, no one could touch him.

Without that tattoo, Wang Zheng wouldn’t have dared return to China—he needed leverage.

“Everyone out!” the middle-aged man ordered. “Tell those outside that without my command, no one is to enter. Otherwise, they’ll be executed on the spot for stealing state secrets.”

“Yes, sir!” The soldiers filed out, closing the door behind them.

“Hmph, you just saved over twenty young lives,” Wang Zheng said with a cold laugh.

“What if I told you... continuing your work was your father’s order?” The captain finally spoke after a long silence.

“Bullshit!” Wang Zheng shouted. “We’re not even in the same system—he has no authority over me. Before giving orders, he should ask himself if he’s qualified. Throwing his teenage son into the African desert... I have no ties to him!”

At the mention of his father, Wang Zheng’s face darkened. He shrugged on his vest, grabbed his sack, and headed for the door.

“If anyone tails me—even in broad daylight—I’ll kill every last one I see! That includes you, Captain!”

“Wang Zheng, wait!”

“I don’t give a damn!” Wang Zheng shouted, humming a tribal tune as he strode out.

After he left, everyone in the room—including the captain—heaved a heavy sigh of relief, as if they’d just escaped from hell and returned to the world of the living.

“It’s good to be alive!”

“Chief, he’s too arrogant. Who does he think he is?”

“He is...” The captain mopped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, then sighed deeply, full of helplessness and sorrow.

“If he’s the Buddha, you’re not even qualified to be Sun Wukong,” Bai Bing suddenly said. “Chief, let me take this mission. I’ll find him.”

“You’ll go after him?” The captain was stunned, then looked at her in shock. “If he says he’ll kill you, he will!”

“That’s what makes it interesting.” A trace of a smile flickered on Bai Bing’s cold, beautiful face. Without waiting for permission, she walked out the door.