No response. Henry Clark stayed silent. He had barely spoken since getting in the car, afraid that the more he said, the more mistakes he might make.

"I actually feel more and more that bringing you in was the right decision." James Lane continued on his own, "Calm, filial, resourceful, and loyal... Oh, and this time, I'll personally take you to the unit."

"Aren't you the captain?" Henry Clark turned to look at James Lane, his eyes confused.

"I have no choice. You saw it that day—the source energy block wasn't found," James Lane explained. "I have to go back, report the situation, and undergo an inspection."

Maybe he really already considered Henry Clark as one of his own men, because James Lane now spoke without much reservation.

"You guys... eat that stuff?" Judging that his own secret hadn't been exposed, and knowing that the source energy block was truly precious, Henry Clark acted serious and curious, asking, "Is that why you all run so fast, and..."

"Eat it?! Hahaha." James Lane gripped the steering wheel and burst out laughing. "You think it's like those thousand-year-old ginsengs or lingzhi mushrooms in TV dramas? ...In reality, I've seen people who can absorb source energy a bit better, but as for swallowing it directly like you said, never seen it... never even heard of it."

Then he seemed to focus and think for a moment. "I have heard of people with a very high fusion rate, but I've never seen it with my own eyes."

"Oh." Henry Clark nodded blankly.

On a straight stretch, James Lane suddenly slowed the car, then turned, leaned over, and reached back to flip down the backseat.

The seatback collapsed forward, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside the compartment was neatly stored a set of the strange equipment Henry Clark had seen on James Lane and the others that night:

A rectangular, dark-toned metal box, placed upright, with the top left and bottom right corners cut off, exposing two ports. At about the middle of each side, at different heights, there was also a port.

Henry Clark recalled that when they wore the metal box on their backs, it seemed to be slanted, with the top left port at the right shoulder, and the bottom right port slanting left, above the waist.

Matching the number of ports, four metallic straps of unknown material hung inside the compartment. Although they looked metallic at a glance, they seemed flexible.

Finally, there was a not-very-long but rather thick, roughly made, pitch-black straight knife, and a similarly made, cone-shaped small dagger.

"This, you've seen before... After refining the source energy, we use it in this device. Over time, the body does absorb some, making us stronger than ordinary people." James Lane closed the seatback, turned back, and continued driving as he spoke: "But that's all. It's not as exaggerated as you think. Take me, for example—it's been almost ten years. If I don't activate the device and you stab me, I'll die just the same."

Hearing this, Henry Clark unconsciously withdrew his gaze... and glanced at James Lane.

"What, tempted?" James Lane gave a wry smile. "Do you want me dead that badly?"

"..." This time, Henry Clark didn't rush to deny it.

James Lane laughed. "Hate me all you want, but you can't kill me. And even if you did, it wouldn't help. So many people saw you that day, and it's already been reported up the chain."

"..." Henry Clark sighed. "Honestly, even if I told anyone about this, no one would believe me."

James Lane shook his head, his tone a bit helpless. "Even if ordinary people don't believe it, there will always be someone who listens. Sorry, we can't take that risk. You'll understand all this in time..."

As he spoke, a black, cigarette-pack-sized communicator beside him suddenly flashed red and beeped twice.

James Lane glanced at Henry Clark... picked up the communicator, and answered the call.

"Area 752, James Lane, standing by," he said.

Henry Clark couldn't quite make out the voice on the other end, only vaguely catching a few words: reserve station, strike, defense, nearby area support... something like that.

"Roger, my position is good. Heading there immediately."

James Lane ended the call.

The two in the car exchanged a look.

Henry Clark said sincerely, "If you have something to do, go ahead. Just drop me off here, I'll ride my bike..."

James Lane hesitated for a moment. "I need you to do me a favor."

Henry Clark: "..."

Before he could reply, the car suddenly accelerated, veering onto another mountain road and speeding away.

Chapter 9: No Good Deed

The engine roared as the jeep twisted and sped along the narrow, perilous mountain road, as if it might plunge off a cliff at any moment.

Henry Clark really wanted to curse out loud amidst the mechanical noise and wild jolting.

Not just because the driver was driving like a madman, but also because of what was happening—he had absolutely no desire to help with this damn favor, and didn't want to go at all.

The battle scene he could already foresee—if he went, what could he do besides get himself killed?

But Henry Clark couldn't resist. The feeling of having his fate so easily manipulated by others was truly awful.

Afraid to look at the road, Henry Clark gripped the car's ceiling handle with both hands, his whole body nearly lifted off the seat... like a rope suspended in midair, swaying and twisting inside the car.

He was using maybe sixty or seventy percent of his strength, but putting on a show of giving it his all.