Facing the invisible pressure in the room, Natarle remained composed. "Yes, I believe my presence will provide additional insurance for the mission."
Upon hearing this, Zhao Qi sat quietly without speaking, while Qin Feng, with a grim expression, strode over to stand before Natarle. Beneath his towering frame, Natarle appeared petite, completely enveloped in his shadow. Yet, she showed no trace of fear, standing straight and meeting Qin Feng's gaze head-on.
After a moment, Qin Feng grinned, revealing a smile. "Not bad, promising material!" With that, he plopped down onto a nearby armchair.
Zhao Qi also nodded repeatedly, his face full of approval. "Explain your reasoning."
"Yes!" Natarle instinctively saluted in the Atlantic Federation style before continuing, "I have no doubt that your team is capable of completing the mission. However, it's undeniable that the enemy is more wary of East Asians than they are of Atlantic Federation personnel."
"My presence can serve as bait to draw their attention and cover your team's movements. Alternatively, I can assist in transferring the mission objective at the critical moment. Though it may seem like a minor addition, it could very well become a trump card."
"I will not participate in any mission-related actions to avoid interfering with your plans, only acting as insurance in case of unexpected events." Having said this, Natarle stood silently, her gaze fixed on Zhao Qi.
After a long pause—
"What a shame."
"Indeed, what a pity."
Zhao Qi and Qin Feng spoke in unison.
Natarle frowned, about to speak, when both men sighed simultaneously. "Such promising material, yet she's from the Atlantic Federation."
Startled, Natarle's composure wavered, but she still declared firmly, "Please do not speak ill of my homeland. Though it has its flaws, I believe it can change."
"My apologies," Zhao Qi said immediately, his expression regretful.
Qin Feng also rubbed his spiky, steel-wool-like crew cut sheepishly. "Sorry."
Just then, the door at the back opened, and Gu Yue emerged, dragging Li Xin by the collar. "Is the test over?Li Xin lay limp on the floor, his eyes vacant, looking completely drained.
Qin Feng clicked his tongue and shook his head at the sight. "Xiao Li, if you can't even handle Gu Yue, how do you expect to impress beauties? Too weak." He flexed his arms and legs, striking a bodybuilder's pose, his muscles bulging. "Stop staring at the computer all day. Come train with me."
Li Xin scrambled to his feet, waving his hands and shaking his head frantically. "No, no, no! I think my physique is just fine, really, it's enough." Zhao Qi watched with a helpless shake of his head.
Natarle observed with curiosity. The atmosphere here was completely different from that in the Atlantic Federation—the team was filled with a strong sense of camaraderie.
However, she still had some doubts—was a team like this truly professional during operations?
But her concerns were quickly dispelled.
Once everyone had gathered, Zhao Qi began assigning tasks based on the information collected over the past few days.
The personnel arrangements, predictions of potential scenarios, and contingency plans for failures all showcased a high level of professionalism.
Although Natarle was not specialized in squad command, she gleaned many practical insights from Zhao Qi's arrangements.
These were treasures that couldn't be learned from textbooks—only frontline teams could accumulate them bit by bit through missions.
Natarle's remarkable talent for command allowed her to absorb knowledge rapidly and even extrapolate further.
Even Zhao Qi was astonished.
He didn't hold back just because Natarle was an Atlantic Federation soldier, often explaining the reasoning, advantages, and drawbacks behind certain arrangements. In the end, the two of them were engrossed in lively discussion, leaving the other three members at a loss.
At first, they could follow along, but soon they were completely lost, feeling only that the chatter around them was grating on their ears.
Taking advantage of the pair's inattention, they slipped away one by one—some tiptoeing off, others crawling away—leaving only the large-framed Qin Feng, who was stuck on the sofa and unable to escape the auditory assault.
In the afternoon, the team began their operation. They did not ask Natarle to act as bait, so she wandered alone inside the Satellite, observing.
Although Zhao Qi hadn't assigned her any specific tasks, Natarle's professionalism drove her to continuously assess the environment, plan escape routes, and simulate actions for various scenarios as she moved about.
While observing the vicinity of the target research institute, she discovered a small park with a hill that offered a clear view of the surroundings, so she made her way there.
The hilltop provided an open vantage point, offering a clear overview of the target and several other nearby research institutes.
It was also a pleasant spot to rest. Tall trees shaded the area from the sunlight above, and the air carried a faint fragrance of wood. Suddenly, voices drifted up from the winding path below. Natarle looked over and saw two men slowly approaching.
Her gaze sharpened, first noticing a man in a red military uniform.
He was handsome and stood tall, with striking golden wavy hair that reached his shoulders. The moment Natarle's eyes fell on him, he turned to look at her.
Natarle met his gaze without flinching and gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.
The other man followed his companion's line of sight.
This was a young man with narrow eyes and pale skin, his long black hair lending him an almost eerie aura. Dressed in a white lab coat, he appeared to be a researcher. Since the hilltop was not a private area, neither man paid Natarle much mind, though the blond man narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. The two groups stood on opposite sides of the hill, silently gazing at the distant scenery.
With outsiders present, Natarle couldn't continue her observations discreetly. Pretending to be a casual visitor resting there, she enjoyed the view for a while before politely nodding farewell and leaving. Once Natarle was out of sight, the blond man walked to the spot where she had been standing and looked out, scanning the area until his eyes settled on a distant white research building.
"Ray?" the black-haired man approached. "Something wrong?"
Ray Le Creuset curled his lips into a charming smile. "It seems something interesting is about to happen."
Gilbert-Durandal followed Ray Le Creuset's gaze and immediately noticed the research institute building: "Do you think she's here for reconnaissance?"
"Most likely. She carries an unmistakable military aura in her movements. Gil, don't wander around these days and stay alert."
"Understood." Durandal nodded. "The new formula is complete, and I don't have any other urgent matters at hand."
Le Creuset's expression visibly darkened, but in an instant, he flashed a charming smile, his eyes holding an indescribable glint as he stared at the distant research institute.
After discussing personal matters, the two departed together.
On their way back to the institute, a sudden shout echoed from afar during their conversation.
"Mr. Durandal!"
Turning in unison, they saw a man in his thirties with thick eyebrows, large eyes, and dignified features rushing over excitedly. Upon reaching them, the man bowed deeply.
Durandal smiled and raised a hand to help him up: "Mr. Weber, as the captain of the Garrison, such gestures might undermine your authority."
"It's only proper!" Weber replied gratefully. "Without your assistance, the research wouldn't have progressed so swiftly."
"So it succeeded?" Durandal's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze shifting past Weber to a wheelchair in the distance where a woman sat.
Lowering his voice with concern, he asked: "Has experimentation been conducted? Genetic research can't rely on theory alone—humans and animals differ significantly." Weber's expression dimmed, his lips pressed tightly together as he offered a guilty smile: "My father-in-law conducted tests..."
Durandal patted Weber's shoulder: "Sometimes we all face difficult choices. Ultimately, those close to us matter most." Changing the subject with a smile, he added: "When is the surgery? After success, Ray and I will send a gift to you and your wife."
"No, no," Weber waved his hands. "Please don't trouble yourselves. My wife and I actually wish to present you with a gift. The surgery is scheduled for this afternoon, right after preparations are complete."
Bowing once more, he said: "Truly, thank you so very much!"
After repeated expressions of gratitude, Weber returned to his wife's side, waved farewell to Durandal, and wheeled her away.
Le Creuset, standing nearby, showed curiosity and asked: "Do you think it will succeed?"
"I don't know, but have we ever conquered any genetic diseases before?"