Chapter 643: Station Chief

After a strict security check, Zhou Yi smoothly entered the interior of the Intelligence General Bureau.

Inside this world's most advanced intelligence agency, Zhou Yi walked along the cement-paved road, guided by white lampposts, passing by grids of two-story buildings. Finally, he reached the vast compound's southeast corner—among the several rows of buildings here, one contained his personal dormitory.

As everyone knows, intelligence is a fine thing.

Seizing the intelligence advantage means seizing the initiative—you can anticipate the enemy's moves, calmly deploy your forces, and thereby defeat hostile powers.

In any confrontation between systems, organizations, or nations, intelligence work is always the highest-priority action, consuming vast internal resources.

Humans, possessing high intelligence, recognized the importance of intelligence activities very early on.

The world's two oldest professions: one is the prostitute, the other is the spy.

"If you wish to seek knowledge of the enemy's situation, you cannot do so without spies." — Sun Tzu's Art of War.

Since intelligence work is so critical, those in power naturally keep the intelligence department as a sharp blade held tightly in their grasp—useful not only against external enemies, but equally effective against internal rivals.

Yet the idea is beautiful; reality is bone-thin.

Historically, any regime, whether ancient or early modern, was internally pieced together from various factions. As a result, powerful cliques all inevitably wanted a hand in intelligence, thus creating a chaotic situation where intelligence departments sprouted from every direction.

Not to look far, the most recent great war in human history: during World War II, just Japan alone had a bewildering variety of intelligence agencies within it.

At that time, the departments meddling in intelligence encompassed virtually all factions within the military and government. Powerful departments including the Navy, Army, General Staff Headquarters, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Colonial Affairs, and Kwantung Army Headquarters all had a hand in establishing their own subordinate intelligence departments.

The agencies familiar to everyone from spy dramas—the Special Higher Police, the Four Organs of Plum-Orchid-Bamboo-Chrysanthemum, the Iwai Mansion, and so on—were all products of this chaotic state.

The consequences of sprouting in every direction were negative, because management could not keep up, leading to involution.

Within Japan's WWII intelligence apparatus, internal competition was extremely fierce; tripping each other up and sabotaging one another were common scripts. It was only because they encountered the even more inept Central Statistics Bureau and Military Statistics Bureau that the Japanese appeared cunning, treacherous, and elusive.

As humanity's understanding and capability in intelligence work advanced, the Japanese model was quickly phased out, giving way to more professional, giant intelligence agencies like the KGB and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).

Although intelligence agencies in every country saw tremendous development during wartime, overall, the developmental trajectory of a department that consumes such enormous resources is ultimately determined by national strength.

Later still, into the modern era, the types of threats nations faced—such as counter-terrorism—increasingly multiplied, and coupled with the need for separation of powers, the intelligence agencies of later generations grew ever more comprehensive.

In later generations, the average person watching American TV shows probably knows that America has the CIA and FBI. The actual truth is, the CIA is merely the largest and most famous one—America has as many as 16 other specialized intelligence agencies covering every facet of national threats.

The total budget swallowed annually by these 17 intelligence departments amounts, on the books, to tens of billions of dollars, far exceeding the GDP of some loser nations.

In short, intelligence is something everyone wants to play with, but losers cannot afford the game.

It happens that there is a parallel. Situated in the 17th century, a certain nation is now also vigorously developing its intelligence apparatus. Yet constrained by national poverty and low productivity, a bunch of losers, though eager to open several more agencies, ultimately had only the Intelligence General Bureau shoulder everything.

Zhou Yi was a member of the Intelligence General Bureau.

To be precise, Zhou Yi was a senior staff member of the Seventh Section, Second Intelligence Division, subordinate to the Intelligence General Bureau.

The dormitory building also had a guard at the entrance. Although Zhou Yi greeted the guard familiarly, the procedure of presenting his credentials was not omitted in the slightest.

Finally, after passing the last checkpoint, Zhou Yi was able to return to his private domain in this world: a single dormitory room in the corner of the second floor.

Taking out his key and opening the door, Zhou Yi reached out skillfully in the darkness and pulled.

With a soft "click," an incandescent bulb under a bamboo hat shade on the ceiling emitted a bright yellow glow, illuminating the room.

Since it shouldered everything, the Intelligence General Bureau was effectively responsible for all intelligence work across every facet of the Great Yan nation.

This included not only the military's intelligence requirements regarding hostile powers, but also the Cabinet and other government departments' needs for various social intelligence on powers like the Great Ming.

Thus, the importance of the Intelligence General Bureau was self-evident. Currently, the Intelligence General Bureau reported directly to the Cabinet. To be exact, it reported to the Prime Minister, Xia Xianze himself.

Due to its monopoly, the Intelligence General Bureau's scale had repeatedly swelled in recent years. It was the type of fat-pig unit that enjoyed guaranteed income rain or shine, wallowing freely in the vast ocean of fiscal revenue, its accounts perpetually impossible to clarify.

"Upstairs and downstairs, electric lights and telephone." Most people had never even heard of such treatment, but as a member of the Intelligence General Bureau, Zhou Yi himself had long enjoyed and grown accustomed to it.

One must know, the Intelligence General Bureau was located in the same district as core departments including the Cabinet and the Imperial Palace. When this core district was first constructed, it was equipped with a Type 28 steam power plant, capable of guaranteeing all power-consuming units in the area an uninterrupted 24-hour civilian electricity supply.

After entering his room, Zhou Yi first poured water from the thermos on the table to wash his face.

A thick iron-wire stand, an enamel washbasin, a striped machine-woven towel, and soap emitting a chemical fragrance—everything was saturated with the strong flavor of early industrialization.

After washing his face with hot water, Zhou Yi immediately felt much more alert.

He then changed into a simple set of jacket and trousers and tied his long hair back simply. Smelling himself and finding that the alcohol scent had dissipated, Zhou Yi turned and went out the door.

After leaving, he first went to the second-floor duty room—there was a telephone there.

In a unit like the Intelligence General Bureau, every single building had someone on duty 24 hours a day. Cranking the handle vigorously several times, Zhou Yi used the old-fashioned hand-crank telephone to call through to his own Seventh Section duty room.

After touching base with the section, Zhou Yi then went downstairs and, at the first moment, went to the Seventh Section duty officer to complete his leave-cancellation registration. Only then did he return to his dormitory to sleep.

The night passed without incident.

Early the next morning, Zhou Yi, full of energy, went to the mess hall on time to get his meal, then punctually stepped into the Seventh Section's great office at 8 o'clock. At this moment, Zhou Yi seemed a little different from yesterday. He appeared much livelier, greeting colleagues all the way, occasionally laughing a few times—clearly doing quite well in the Seventh Section.

The entire Intelligence General Bureau, below the Bureau Chief and Deputy Directors, had four major divisions: Intelligence, Action, Management, and Technology.

Among these, the Bureau Chief concurrently served as the Intelligence Division Chief, while several other transmigrator Deputy Directors concurrently served as the chiefs of the other divisions.

The Intelligence Division, where Zhou Yi belonged, had multiple functional sections under it, respectively responsible for areas such as domestic counter-espionage, foreign intelligence, military liaison, and communication with overseas stations.

Every section in the Intelligence Division had a corresponding counterpart section in the Action Division, to facilitate coordinated operations between the two sides.

The Seventh Section, where Zhou Yi belonged, was in fact a newly formed section established less than half a year ago. The purpose of the Seventh Section's establishment was very clear: to be posted to a certain location in the Great Ming. For this reason, a portion of personnel had been drawn in advance for training and team-building.

When Zhou Yi went to work today, the first thing he naturally did was report to his superior. After all, he had engaged in personal activities yesterday, meaning he had been detached from management for a period. By regulation, he needed to report promptly.

Beating the others who had come to report, Zhou Yi knocked on the door of the Section Chief's office diagonally across the corridor.

Accompanied by a gentle "Come in," Zhou Yi pushed open the door, first poking his head in and waving it around. After this, Zhou Yi closed the door with a grin, turned back, and said, "Section Chief, I'm here to cancel my leave—look at my memory, I should be calling you Station Chief now!"

The Section Chief, sitting behind a large Annam rosewood office desk, like Zhou Yi, wore his hair long and was dressed in an inconspicuous gray jacket.

This refined, middle-aged man, upon hearing Zhou Yi's flattery, smiled and pointed a finger at him in warning: "Section Chief is Section Chief—don't talk nonsense. Pay attention; in a unit like ours, caution in word and deed comes first."

"You know me—it's only in front of you that I say whatever's on my mind."

Grinning, Zhou Yi unceremoniously pulled over a chair and sat down, then stretched out a finger, pointed, and asked in a low voice, full of anticipation: "The appointment still hasn't come down?"

The Section Chief dropped the act this time and smiled: "It should be today."

Zhou Yi slapped his thigh: "There it is! You really can keep your cool!"

Rubbing his hands together excitedly, Zhou Yi was beside himself: "Since the appointment is coming down, then the posting abroad is a matter of these next few days. Section Chief, our time to achieve great things has arrived—no more holing up at headquarters eating idle meals!"

The middle-aged Section Chief shook his head with a wry smile, then asked Zhou Yi with a playful look: "A posting abroad means sleeping rough, no water, no electricity—is it really worth being that happy about?"

"An assignment out there is like being enfeoffed on the frontier. I'll follow you to build merit and a career — who wants to stay here in headquarters gathering mold!"

"Heh, the brothers are all in it to build merit and a career." Hearing Zhou Yi's spirited declaration, the Section Chief nodded, a rare occurrence, his expression turning a shade more serious as he heartily agreed: "Good to have drive. You need drive if you want to gamble for a noble title for your wife and sons."

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The Section Chief's information was accurate.

At exactly ten in the morning, General Bureau Director Dai Yun, wearing the standard blue Western-suit uniform of the intelligence system with a peaked cap on his head, led all the top brass who were "at home" into the Seventh Section office.

Everyone in the Seventh Section, from the Section Chief on down, lined up in anxious reverence to welcome the bigwigs who had never before set foot in their domain.

"Following collective deliberation, it is hereby appointed that Nan Wang shall be the Station Chief of the New Station, to set out this very day without delay!"

Nan Wang, Section Chief of the Seventh Section, a decorated intelligence officer of the Empire's information front.

This appointment marked the first time a native elite of the Great Ming had assumed the post of a major-city intelligence station chief — a position previously held only by Transmigrators — and its significance was profound.