Chapter 1765

This sentence revealed Ximen Wudi's boundless tenderness within.

The strategist lightly bit her lip and nodded slightly.

In truth, she was never good at concealing her feelings, especially in front of the man she loved.

"Why are those enemies chasing you?" Ximen Wudi asked.

He did not notice the strategist's slightly reddened eyes.

"It's not because of me—it's because… I killed one of their big bosses," the strategist said.

"Oh? Why? Haven't you been out of the dark world for over three years?" Ximen Wudi said.

"I intended to vanish completely from the dark world and live quietly as an ordinary Miss, but someone there refused to let me disappear, and wouldn't allow it," the strategist whispered softly: "So I had no choice but to keep living, and keep striving to grow, laying the groundwork for the day I can stand shoulder to shoulder with that person."

These words were filled with firmness and stubbornness.

This stubbornness and firmness made one instinctively want to protect her.

"I know you want to help me, don't you?" Ximen Wudi asked again.

In truth, his intelligence was extremely high; he was just used to being lazy and rarely cared to think deeply about things—but now, Ximen Wudi had already understood the full meaning behind the strategist's actions.

"I promised that person I would protect you at all costs," the strategist whispered.

At all costs!

Those four words struck like a heavy hammer, slamming into Ximen Wudi's chest!

He clenched his fists, looked at the strategist, his eyes brimming with turbulent light: "Strategist, thank you."

He knew his own character lacked something—and the strategist was striving to make up for it.

The strategist smiled faintly, reached out, and brushed her fingers across Ximen Wudi's cheek.

"Fool, why be so formal with me? You're my man—if I don't protect you, who else would I protect?"

As she spoke, her eyes reddened further.

She was a cold exterior, warm hearted Miss, who had held out alone in the dark world for so long; every time she faced setbacks, she bore the burden alone—no one knew the pressure this beautiful female operative carried.

"Strategist, rest assured—I will find the mastermind behind all this," Ximen Wudi said.

"Mm," the strategist nodded and said: "Rest for a while—I'll prepare medicine, then we'll continue our journey."

"Mm," Ximen Wudi agreed, then lay down on the sofa, closed his eyes, and fell into deep sleep.

These past two days, he had been utterly exhausted; his injuries had left him weak, and after soaking in the bathtub, fatigue surged over him.

When Ximen Wudi woke up, it was already evening; the strategist was cooking.

"I'm starving—I want your noodles," Ximen Wudi rubbed his stomach and said.

He was truly hungry; he'd gone two straight days without food.

"Alright," the strategist stood up, took eggs and noodles from the fridge, and prepared to cook.

But then she heard Ximen Wudi cough twice.

She paused, then immediately rushed into the room, helped him sit up, and asked: "Does your wound hurt?"

"It's fine… just… a little itchy…" Ximen Wudi said.

As he spoke, he lifted his shirt, revealing his abdomen—a straight, one-centimeter-long, thick and even knife wound; though shallow, the flesh curled outward, and the blood had dried.

"Strategist, pull the knife out for me," Ximen Wudi said.

"No, you'll bleed," the strategist shook her head: "Should I disinfect it with alcohol first?"

"It's fine, no need," Ximen Wudi shook his head: "Just do it."

Seeing his determination, the strategist could only yield.

She rolled up his shirt slightly, exposing the skin of his lower back—his spine was wrapped in thick bandages, so tight they were nearly cutting into his bones.

The strategist stared deeply at Ximen Wudi's waistline, then asked: "Are you sure?"

These words carried countless unspoken thoughts.

Not only the scar on his waistline, but also the scar left by that car accident.

A mixture of pain and sorrow crossed Ximen Wudi's brow; he nodded, his eyes filled with resolve: "Yes, it's fine—pull the dagger out quickly."

"Does that scar still hurt?" the strategist asked.

Her words were thick with deep concern.

She was a kind-hearted girl, easily moved to compassion—otherwise, under the pressure of the state apparatus, she would never have been forced into retirement.

Lately, the strategist's will had grown extraordinarily strong; if she were anyone else, she would have broken long ago.

"It doesn't hurt," Ximen Wudi grinned: "This pain means nothing to me—don't worry about me."

As he spoke, he patted the strategist's arm, his eyes warm.

The strategist's eyes reddened again.

But the next second, tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

She lowered her gaze and wiped away her tears.

"This time, besides rescuing you, I brought another piece of news," the strategist said.

Ximen Wudi froze: "Is it about Ye Pu Island?"

"No, this news is about your father," the strategist lifted her head, her eyes glistening softly: "I think your father may finally appear—he gave me an address, but didn't tell me the exact location. I suspect he's hiding somewhere within China."

Hearing this, Ximen Wudi's eyes flickered with complex emotion: "My father… my father is still alive?"

The strategist nodded: "Yes—he fell into the sea twenty-six years ago."

Twenty-six years!

That iron man had finally returned!

"That's amazing, Strategist—you've helped me so much! I must repay you properly!" Ximen Wudi exclaimed excitedly.

Over these years, in Ximen Wudi's heart, the image of Su Lao had always been immensely towering; his appearance undoubtedly pointed Ximen Wudi in a direction, letting this young man see hope.

"Alright, what you need to do now is rest and recover." The military advisor took Ximen Wudi's arm and walked into the room: "I'll go boil some water, then make you a bowl of noodles. Get some proper rest. When you open your eyes tomorrow, perhaps you'll be able to see your father."

"Mm, alright. Military advisor, you go ahead and busy yourself. I'll clean up here myself." Ximen Wudi said with a smile.

The military advisor pressed Ximen Wudi down to sit on the edge of the bed: "I misspoke just now. This matter is something I owe you, so I'll be the one to take care of you."

"Alright." Ximen Wudi did not refuse; he actually quite enjoyed this feeling of being attentively attended to by the military advisor.

"You rest well. I'll bring the soup up right away."

The military advisor left.

Ximen Wudi leaned quietly against the bed, eyes closed, resting his spirit.

For some unknown reason, Ximen Wudi always felt a vague sense of danger.

But he could not say where exactly this danger came from. Even in Ximen Wudi's mind, there was something like an "early warning system."

It was probably caused by excessive blood loss.

The military advisor quickly finished simmering the soup.

She fed it to Ximen Wudi as he drank it down, saying: "How do you feel now? If anywhere feels uncomfortable, tell me right away."

"I feel pretty alright, nothing's the matter." Ximen Wudi panted twice, then said: "But, military advisor, you just said my father might have already appeared. Where exactly is he?"

"I can't confirm it either. However, our recent investigation and evidence collection has wrapped up, and we can basically lock down a region. It just needs final confirmation." The military advisor gave a soft sigh: "I never imagined that in this lifetime I would still encounter something like this. I suppose this counts as fate."

Ximen Wudi nodded.

What the military advisor said was indeed fact. In this time and space, Ximen Wudi's father meeting him was indeed somewhat coincidental.

"Oh right, military advisor, something just suddenly occurred to me." Ximen Wudi hesitated for a moment, then said: "Earlier, when I was on a mission in Europe, a private plane smashed into my seat..."

"Smashed into your seat?" The military advisor furrowed her brow, thought for a few seconds, then suddenly realized: "Oh, I remember now. That was a private jet from a certain international airport in Milan. You even got into an argument with a group of passengers because of it..."

Ximen Wudi scratched his head: "I can't remember clearly either."

The military advisor said: "Do you still remember the plane's registration number? I can look it up online, then get in touch with the crew."

Ximen Wudi thought carefully for a moment: "I remember... that plane seemed to be called... Huang Laosi?"

"Right, that's the one. It's a famous luxury brand from Milan, reportedly worth over ten billion US dollars..." The military advisor's delicate brows drew together slightly: "But now that you've reminded me, I've actually recalled some other things."

"Tell me quickly." Ximen Wudi said eagerly.

He truly had not expected that his own background and origins would turn out to be like this—it was simply beyond imagination.