Let's Slurp Some Rice Noodles First

The Octagon.

As the nerve center of the US Department of Defense, the air here was perennially thick with the scent of caffeine and tension.

But today, that tension had almost solidified into something tangible.

Every day, thousands of documents and matters were processed here.

Right now, however, those thousands of documents had been shoved aside. Every communication line was running frantically for a single event, and analysts with bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at blank screens.

Nine military bases far away in the Nation of Luzon had been wiped off the map simultaneously.

That is to say, all nine military bases in Luzon had been attacked.

"Is it confirmed? Are they really entirely wiped out?"

Inside the conference room, a four-star general broke the dead silence with a hoarse voice.

"Yes, General. Nine bases, no survivors. All communications were completely severed within three minutes."

"What about the scene? Satellite images! Drones! I want to see the scene!"

The young liaison officer's palms were sweating. Biting the bullet, he replied, "Reporting to the General, we have lost surveillance access to all the bases. The scene only shows the ruins and corpses left after the explosions. Not a single frame of the attack process was transmitted out, as if... as if they were hit by an attack that appeared out of thin air."

Out of thin air?

Everyone present felt a chill run down their spines.

For the US, with its network of over five hundred military bases spread across the globe, nine was indeed just a drop in the bucket.

But this wasn't a matter of numbers; it was a matter of face.

Someone had just delivered a resounding slap to the face of the global hegemon under the watchful eyes of the entire world.

"What does Luzon say?"

"Their Prime Minister is already on a special flight heading our way. Rumor has it he didn't even have time to change out of his pajamas before leaving. He assured us that even if they were given a hundred times the courage, they would never dare to do such a thing."

"Hmph, I should think not," the General scoffed coldly, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Investigate! Dig into this! Even if you have to turn Luzon upside down, drag the attackers out into the light!"

The news had already swept across the globe.

Countless eyes were gloatingly fixed on the battered and bruised US.

Nine bases wiped out in one fell swoop—this was more humiliating than losing any localized war.

Meanwhile, thirty kilometers away from the Octagon, deep underground beneath an unremarkable red brick building.

This was the headquarters of the Divine Eye Agency.

Unlike the clamor of the outside world, it was so quiet here that only the low hum of servers could be heard.

Inside the massive circular conference room, faint blue light reflected on everyone's faces. The atmosphere was even colder than at the Octagon.

On the central holographic screen, the portraits of Jack Freeman and all his team members were covered by a bright red "Deceased" stamp.

"When was the last signal transmission?" a man sitting at the head of the table asked, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

"Reporting to the Director, twelve hours and seventeen minutes ago, the signal was instantly severed without any distress message. As for the black box, we will have to wait for the specific report from the recovery team," the technician's voice was somewhat dry.

The Director fell silent for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the smooth tabletop.

"Where is the recovery team?"

"They are estimated to arrive at the target area in five hours."

"And Luzon? Any movement?"

"Yes."

Another intelligence analyst immediately pulled up a file. "We intercepted intel that Luzon sent a unit of mercenaries and soldiers to land on the island before the incident, but... they also seem to have died on the island. Not a single one survived."

A slight commotion rippled through the conference room.

"Heh, those monkeys, dishonest as always." A supervisor sneered. "Director, this intelligence..."

"Clean it up and send it to the Octagon," the Director said without even batting an eyelid. "Let them squabble with Luzon, but we must investigate and find out exactly what happened."

Jack Freeman wasn't exactly a highly capable agent, but he was quite famous in their circles and could be considered the public face of the Divine Eye Agency.

But since he was dead... so be it.

They could just prop up another one anyway.

However, the destruction of nine bases...

Both the US Department of Defense and the Divine Eye Agency found this whole situation incredibly messed up.

Other countries, on the other hand, were as joyous as if it were a holiday.

After all, seeing the US take a beating was a universally pleasing sight.

Hero City.

The early morning market was bustling with noise. The humid air was a mix of the raw scent of meat, the earthy smell of vegetables, and the aroma of cooked food.

The chatter of people, the cries of vendors, and the thud of meat being chopped merged into a steaming surge of vitality that rushed at the face.

Lin Mo weaved through the crowded stream of people and found an empty seat in the corner of a rice noodle shop.

The greasy table had been wiped shiny by the proprietress's rag. As he sat down, the long bench let out a faint creak.

Listening to the surrounding diners ordering with practiced ease, he picked up the gist of it.

"Hello, I'd like a minced meat mixed noodle and a century egg soup."

The auntie taking orders moved her hands swiftly. Hearing his voice, she glanced up at him, his accent immediately giving him away.

"Hey, good choice, young man. Judging by your accent, you're from eastern Guangdong, right? Our chili here packs a real punch, want to give it a try?"

"I'll pass this time, I'll try the non-spicy version first. Have you been to eastern Guangdong, Auntie?" Lin Mo replied naturally.

"That'll be twelve bucks." The auntie briskly stated the price, opening up the conversation. "I worked out there for a few years when I was young. Money was hard to make; it's much more comfortable coming home to sell noodles."

"I see." Lin Mo paid and returned to his seat.

Turning his phone back on, the screen lit up, and he casually tapped on a news push notification.

The headline was shockingly about the unexplained bombing of nine overseas US bases. All sorts of speculations were flying around, ranging from geological disasters to new types of electromagnetic weapons; people were saying everything.

Many even believed that Huaxia was the one who made the move.

After all, the relationship between Luzon and Huaxia wasn't good either.

He had only disappeared for two days, which hadn't caused too much of an impact.

In the eyes of others, the problems that occurred at those nine bases would never be connected to Lin Mo.

And even if they did make the connection, so what?

"Hey, handsome, your noodles and soup."

The auntie's resonant voice pulled him back from his thoughts as she placed the tray on the table with a crisp clatter.

She had indeed been to eastern Guangdong; that "handsome" was pronounced with perfect cadence.

Lin Mo smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

The steaming bowl of minced meat mixed noodles was placed in front of him.

A large spoonful of brown minced meat sauce was spread over the snow-white rice noodles, gleaming with oil. The savory aroma of the meat mixed with the fragrance of the sauce rushed straight into his nose.

Lin Mo quite liked eating rice noodle dishes, especially ones with such rich flavors.

He picked up his chopsticks and quickly mixed the meat sauce and the rice noodles together, ensuring every single strand was evenly coated in the sauce.

Slurping noodles was also a very joyful thing.