Chapter Twenty-Five: The Console

Since Du Fulin vanished, the CIA had already sounded the red alert.

The disappearance of a senior agent spelled endless trouble. All the classified information known to operatives could potentially be leaked, and if it fell into the hands of those with sinister motives, a major crisis could be triggered with ease.

To borrow a line often heard in films: America is already in danger—a stern-faced Black man.

Just as Gao Ning had suspected, they had long since laid traps inside the manor. Though all signs pointed to Du Fulin being the sole target, with the advantage lost, the CIA would never overlook such an obvious location.

The hippie’s car barreled into the compound, and the hidden sentries took up their positions, ready to fire at any moment. But to everyone’s surprise, the intruder turned out to be the insignificant driver.

As the two collapsed to the ground, unmoving for a long while, a squad of heavily armed special forces in black combat uniforms emerged from their concealed posts, swiftly surrounding them.

The hippie struggled to get up, only to be pinned down by two soldiers, cuffed, and dragged away without ceremony. Upon confirming that Jackie Chan was unconscious, the soldiers brusquely adorned him with a pair of silver bracelets as well.

During a mission, no precaution is ever excessive.

On the second floor, in the study, Christine was endlessly replaying surveillance footage when she received a call. So much time had passed without any clue, and even she felt unsettled, her tone harsher than usual.

“Speak!” She cut straight to the point, her impatience unmistakable.

“Ma’am, we’ve caught two intruders, one of them is the target—Jimmy Tang!”

Christine sprang to her feet, the chair crashing to the floor. “Bring them to the third-floor bathroom, set up the basics. I’ll interrogate them myself!”

“Uh… Ma’am, the target seems to have taken a large dose of sedatives. He’s unconscious—may need medical attention first.”

“Then wake him up!” Christine snapped, hanging up and grabbing her coat as she strode toward the stairs.

Her heels struck the floor with crisp, sharp clicks.

Outside, the soldiers quickly tidied the scene, pushed the battered pale-green Chevrolet into the garage, and even repaired the front gate.

Soon, calm returned to the grounds. Only the night security guards wandered back and forth, feigning anxiety and urgency. It seemed they hoped to lure in another round of intruders.

Yet everyone knew the odds were negligible.

Across the street in the parking lot, three figures lowered their binoculars simultaneously, exchanging glances. Granny Liu said, “Just as expected!”

Liang Bing’s expression was flat. “Has your corpse manipulation technique become remote-controlled now?”

Granny Liu protested, “Don’t make it sound so sinister. The real name is ‘Summon Corpse.’ Once my skill levels up, I’ll be able to control more muscle groups—blood flow, for instance—and even turn corpses into superhumans!”

Gao Ning’s brow arched. Basic skills can be upgraded? That was welcome news.

Liang Bing sighed, “Alright, alright, you’ve mentioned it a thousand times. I know your skill is impressive. Maybe one day you’ll control the bodies of gods and demons, but for now, we need him to gather intelligence!”

“Shouldn’t we be making better use of our time?”

Seeing Liang Bing relent, Granny Liu was finally satisfied, her eyes crinkling with delight.

“Alright, let’s join hands. In a moment, I’ll take you both into the corpse’s control interface. I’ll handle the head, Bing takes the upper body, Gao the lower body. Try to coordinate—don’t let them spot any flaws.”

The three joined hands in a small circle, like children at play. Gao Ning felt slightly embarrassed. If someone snapped a photo now, no amount of explanation would suffice.

“Relax, just close your eyes and count with me: three, two, one—”

No sooner had she finished, Gao Ning’s vision blurred and he found himself in a control room.

The entire space radiated a gentle glow, illuminating every corner. Before him stretched a long control panel, divided into three sections.

The center was for the head, with an array of buttons—presumably for controlling breathing, speech, blinking, and facial expressions. A small red microphone stood in the middle, surrounded by numerous buttons.

Compared to the center, the side panels were much simpler. The right controlled the upper body, with two metallic gloves fitted onto the console. The left matched it, except the gloves were replaced with steel boots.

“We’re here! Bing, go right—just slip your hands in, avoid unnecessary movements. The outside will respond in real time. Gao, head left—put your feet in, no need to remove your shoes. Soon you’ll see a treadmill appear beneath you. Watch the main screen—if we need to walk or run, it’s your job.”

Granny Liu sat at the central console, deftly adjusting controls and raising the red microphone to her lips.

The wall in front displayed a massive 270-degree screen, currently blank.

Gao Ning paused, struck by a vague sense of familiarity. But now was not the time for reflection. He nodded to Granny Liu and moved to the left console.

Liang Bing glanced around, “So this is how you control it!”

Granny Liu didn’t look up, tuning the controls as she spoke, “This is just the beginner stage. Once my skill advances, there’ll be more of me here, all connected—no delay, no need for communication. Then we’ll upgrade to more complex consoles, for stronger bodies.”

Liang Bing was momentarily stunned, then nodded, “Alright, I admit—your skill is seriously cool.”

Granny Liu smiled, and the main screen trembled, a crack appearing suddenly.

“It’s starting! Get ready, everyone!”

From the surround speakers came Christine’s icy voice.

“Looks like a bucket of cold water isn’t enough to wake our guest. Let’s try again.”

Then came footsteps and the sound of water splashing.

Granny Liu quickly pressed the cough button, and a bout of intense coughing rang out.

Inside the manor’s makeshift interrogation room, the hippie was tied to a chair in the center of the spacious bathroom. A bucket of cold water was dumped over his head, and he groggily opened his eyes, breaking into a violent cough.