Chapter 464: One Mountain Can

"Sizzle~"

Cool water splashed onto the stone, and a puff of white steam instantly rose in the sauna.

Zhao Haishen used the remaining water to rinse his body, and the pleasant pores all seemed ready to open.

The lingering heat from his earlier drunkenness was also carried away a bit by the opened pores at this moment.

"So refreshing!"

"Aren't you feeling hot?"

"Hot? This is just the start."

Zhao Haishen wrapped a towel around himself and plopped down opposite Zheng Chengfeng.

Such a temperature is a piece of cake for them; Special Operations have dedicated heat‑ and cold‑resistance training, which truly tests physiological limits.

Because the sauna was too hot, the others couldn't stand it and left one after another; with only the two of them left, Zhao Haishen gave a sly, probing look.

"Give me a hint—do you have some special mission on your hands?"

"Why do you ask?"

Zheng Chengfeng rested his elbow on his thigh, beads of sweat sliding down his chin and dripping onto the wooden board.

Zhao Haishen squinted: "I get the feeling the bits you're cobbling together now aren't for the Third Brigade, but rather for building a small unit."

Zheng Chengfeng's face stayed composed, but his heart gave a sudden thump.

What a guy—no wonder he's a Special Operations‑level Chief of Staff, deducing the gist from a single clue.

Just as he was pondering how to rebut and trying to brush it off, Zhao Haishen spoke again.

"You don't need to answer; your demeanor tells me I'm eight or nine out of ten correct."

"What condition?"

Zheng Chengfeng smiled and asked back.

Zhao Haishen pointed a finger at his own face: "Psychology says that when a person's expression stays fixed for more than two seconds, they're likely lying. I guess you were just thinking how I guessed it and how to cover it up."

Zheng Chengfeng gave a noncommittal laugh: "Chief Zhao, you truly live up to the title; no wonder in past drills those opponents ended up completely crushed by you."

Zhao Haishen chuckled: "War is deceit; against an enemy you must employ every means."

"So, are we friends or foes?"

"Of course we're friends."

Zhao Haishen lifted his chin, stared into his eyes: "Don't interrupt; give me a little hint—what kind of unit are you preparing to form?"

Zheng Chengfeng shook his head: "No comment."

"So, I guessed right?"

"I'm not saying your guess is wrong."

"If I cut you five sets of gear, I'll ask, and you just nod or shake your head—that won't count as leaking."

"Leave all the gear; I'll deliver it to you in a few days. I can try to reveal a bit, otherwise let's not talk."

Zhao Haishen's small eyes darted wildly, like a big rat ready to steal sesame oil.

In fact, he wasn't here to demand equipment.

Those thirty‑five sets of gear were already retired by Jiaolong and handed to second‑line units, so taking them back is useless.

As for selecting troops, although the Sea Training Base's men are Army elites, the sea‑training projects are a mess and never catch his eye.

You should know their past selections came from the Army, Navy and Air Force of the Southern Theater, picking the top elite troops through multiple rounds and assessments before they could be chosen.

People like Xu Ce and Tu Hongwei, though a notch below Lu Yang, would be Soldier Kings in any Marine Corps unit, far beyond what the Sea Training Base's half‑baked troops could match.

Thus Zhao Haishen's real purpose, entrusted by Battalion Commander Hou Yi, was to probe the truth and see what Zheng Chengfeng was really up to behind the scenes.

"Fine, we'll do as you say—after all we're friends. I won't take any of the thirty‑five sets; they're all yours. I'll take fewer soldiers, but you have to be truthful with me."

"I can't state it outright; you have to ask."

"Alright."

Zhao Haishen lowered his voice, staring tightly: "Preparing the Third Brigade is just a cover; so, just sniff, and if it's wrong, do nothing?"

Zheng Chengfeng said nothing, instead wiping the sweat off his nose, arms hanging behind him, shifting to a more comfortable sitting posture.

Zhao Haishen continued: "You received orders to secretly build what kind of unit? Recon, intelligence, amphibious, aviation, or… Special Operations?"

This time Zheng Chengfeng gave only a meaningful smile: "I'll go up first; after a shower and foot soak, you can rest in the Main Hall, and I'll foot the bill later."

The heavy wooden sauna door swung open, Zheng Chengfeng slung the towel over his shoulder and stepped out, a gust of wind flooding in and waking Zhao Haishen up considerably.

The battalion commander's guess proved correct; Zheng Chengfeng was indeed preparing a special unit, most likely a Special Operations Company.

That's no good omen—one mountain can't hold two tigers, even a little tiger won't do.

The Southern Theater Army already has a Special Forces unit called Southern Nation's Sharp Sword, and the Navy has Jiaolong.

If another appears, it will inevitably siphon off resources that belong to Jiaolong.

And anything with the words 'Special Operations' attached is a money‑burning ancestor.

Commander Hou's speculation was simple.

Lu Yang's appearance was a bit too coincidental, and Zheng Chengfeng alone doesn't have enough clout to push someone into the Special Operations system for training; he needs senior backing.

Regular troops have no need to learn Special Operations techniques; all of Jiaolong's tactical training prepares for small‑scale clashes and localized frictions.

Combined with Zheng Chengfeng gathering all his old subordinates for a full‑scale drill, it fully confirmed their suspicion.

Zhao Haishen hurried out, grabbed his phone and called Hou Yi, reporting: "Commander, you guessed right—Zheng Chengfeng does have another mission, and he himself admitted it's related to Special Operations."

On the other end, Hou Yi was silent for a moment, then asked, "What else did he say?"

Zhao Haishen shook his head: "That's all; the guy is tight‑lipped, didn't reveal more. I think they're forming a small Special Operations squad, with Lu Yang as instructor."

"He's a weird one, learns fast; I've seen his performance at the shipyard—he can pick it up in a few hours."

"If I hadn't intervened in time, he'd have mastered the real thing in half a day."

Hou Yi said cautiously, "This isn't a good omen; it shows the higher-ups have objections to us."

Zhao Haishen said, "Battalion Commander, the responsibility for this matter lies with me; if intelligence work were more thorough and all uncontrollable factors were taken into account, perhaps those later issues wouldn't have happened."

"It's too late to say this now."

Hou Yi said solemnly, "Go talk to Zheng Chengfeng again and find out which superior in the Command Headquarters is backing him; if it's only a Deputy Commander, Deputy Political Commissioner, Chief of Staff or similar, that would be better....."

Zhao Haishen said, "What if it's the Commander?"

Hou Yi: "......"

He rubbed his brow, sighed helplessly, "It shouldn't be; Commander Gu just arrived, his prestige isn't fully established yet, so it's unlikely he'd take on such a risky project."

"Forming a special operations unit requires not only massive funding but also decades of accumulation; no matter what, this is the higher-ups sounding a warning to us."

"For future missions, regardless of difficulty, we must exert one hundred and twenty percent effort, especially intelligence reconnaissance work; there must be no slip-ups at all!"

"Understood!"

Zheng Chengfeng took a few sheets of paper, held his stomach with a grim look, and said, "My stomach feels uncomfortable; you sit first, I'll be right back."

"Aren't you going upstairs?"

"Hmm, I just took a shower; how about we go together?"

"Sure, I happen to need to file the calluses on my feet; you're buying the meal, so later don't try to argue over the bill."

"Then I won't stand on ceremony; I'll also get a cupping session later."

"No problem."

"Hello, Technician #66, happy to serve you."

"Let him have the service first; where's the restroom here?"

"Turn left when you go out and keep going to the end."

"Okay."

Zheng Chengfeng took a few sheets of paper, held his stomach with a grim look, and said, "My stomach feels uncomfortable; you sit first, I'll be right back."

Zhao Haishen was focused on how to worm information out of him later, so he didn't think much else.

But the Technician #88 who followed in casually complained, which made him break out in a cold sweat.

"Downstairs, a bunch of people in uniforms have come?"

"What are they here for?"

"I don't know."

"This is a legitimate venue; even if the police come, we're not afraid."

"They're not police; the uniforms are different—each wearing a silver helmet with something written on it: 'Three Armies, Military Police...'"