Agent: Intercepting Yu Manli at the start!

Chapter 7 is a joke!

As soon as he finished speaking, his gaze shifted and fixed on Zhou Xiao's face: "Zhou Xiao, you are the most eye-catching 'special student' this time. Come on, let's try it out."

Try it out?

The instructor suddenly called on the trainees for sparring?

The air in the audience suddenly tightened.

Zhou Xiao stood up, his expression calm: "Instructor, how do we test it?"

"Hand-to-hand combat," Guo Qiyun said succinctly. "In assassinations, you can't dodge close-quarters combat. Today, let's see who is faster, quieter, and leaves no room for error."

"Okay," Zhou Xiao replied readily.

Having come from the General Staff of the Military and Political Council, combat was his forte; coupled with the system's subtle enhancement of his reaction and physical abilities, he didn't take this contest seriously at all.

Mingtai glanced at Guo Qiyun, then leaned closer to Zhou Xiao and chuckled, "Brother Zhou, please give him a proper 'welcome' for me."

From the moment they entered the school, the two of them were determined to compete with each other.

The trainees automatically formed a circle, clearing a space.

Guo Qiyun and Zhou Xiao stood facing each other.

Zhou Xiao had heard of him before—the "Iron-Armed Arhat" of the Action Division, who never held back when it came to his men.

"please!"

Without wasting words, Guo Qiyun lunged forward, his left fist like a hammer, swirling with wind as it struck.

Zhou Xiao only shifted half a step, the wind from his punch grazing past his clothes; then his right leg shot up, delivering a low kick straight for the back of his opponent's knee—fast, accurate, and without any hesitation.

The two instantly engaged in combat.

The onlookers held their breath in awe.

Someone muttered quietly, "Mingtai, Instructor Guo... seems to be really getting beaten up?"

"Exactly!" another chimed in. "Judging by that, Instructor Guo didn't even have a chance to catch his breath. Mingtai, you two are roommates, just who is he?"

Mingtai stared at the scene and lowered his voice: "Sixth Brother personally brought them in. They were directly transferred from the intelligence section, and even basic training was waived."

Sixth Brother?

Some nodded, while others looked blank.

"Mingtai, are you talking about... Zheng Yaoxian, the 'Ghost-Fearer' from the Military Intelligence Bureau's 'Eight Great Vajras'?"

"Exactly." Mingtai nodded.

"No wonder..." everyone suddenly realized. The person Zheng Yaoxian had chosen was no ordinary person.

boom!

With a muffled thud, Guo Qiyun was knocked to the ground by Zhou Xiao's spinning kick.

Zhou Xiao looked down at him: "Instructor, are you going to catch it again?"

Guo Qiyun gritted his teeth and sprang up, leaping up like a carp: "Again!" He pounced again—this time he was going all out, spreading his arms wide to tightly grip Zhou Xiao's right leg, trying to lift him up.

Zhou Xiao twisted his waist and spun around, turning in the opposite direction. He raised his right leg and locked Guo Qiyun's arm under his left armpit. He lowered his shoulder, pressed down with his hip, and fiercely squeezed with his left knee—then swept out with a whip kick!

Snapped!

Guo Qiyun fell hard again, his face almost touching the ground.

He rolled over and got up again, veins throbbing on his forehead, and charged at us for the third time.

The two fought again.

Everyone could see clearly that Guo Qiyun was suffering repeated defeats, his moves were being countered, and he was being controlled at every turn.

Too bad!

Just a few seconds later, he crashed heavily to the ground again, his mouth full of dust.

Zhou Xiao stood still, his tone so indifferent it betrayed no emotion: "Instructor Guo, shall we continue the trial?"

试？

Try it my foot!

Guo Qiyun pushed himself up from the ground, his back ramrod straight, veins throbbing on his forehead. He suppressed the metallic taste rising in his throat and announced in a cold voice, "Training ends here for today. Class dismissed."

His face remained expressionless, but his knuckles were white from clenching his fists, and his cuffs were covered in dust—a dignified instructor had been knocked to the ground on the spot by a newcomer who had only been in the class for three days.

His reputation has been completely ruined.

As soon as he turned and strode out of the training ground, the trainees immediately erupted in cheers, surrounding Zhou Xiao with laughter and applause.

"Zhou Xiao, you're really something!"

"Oh dear, Instructor Guo has really messed up this time!"

"You've been keeping a low profile, haven't you? You're always quiet, but when you finally make a move, you make people kneel!"

"That felt great! That felt so good!"

……

Mingtai's eyes lit up, and he blurted out, "Zhou Xiao, you're amazing! Your skills are incredibly sharp. Let's have a proper spar another day!"

"I'm available anytime," Zhou Xiao replied with a smile.

Someone nearby joked, "Even Instructor Guo couldn't handle it, Mingtai, you still dare to go? Aren't you afraid of getting beaten up?"

Mingtai grinned, waving his hand dismissively, but then suddenly changed his tone, saying seriously, "You can hit me, but don't hit my face—I need this face to chase girls!"

Amidst the uproarious laughter, Zhou Xiao quietly suppressed his smile. A hint of doubt crept into his mind: Guo Qiyun's sudden challenge to a duel was rather strange.

Why would an instructor deliberately challenge a new recruit? Winning doesn't bring any credit, losing is a huge loss of face—it's a thankless task, so who would do it?

Anything abnormal is a sign of evil.

Sure enough, as soon as Guo Qiyun stepped out of the training field, he went straight into the director's office.

When the door was pushed open, Wang Tianfeng was sitting upright behind his desk—he had a straight mustache, wore a crisp military uniform with gleaming epaulets, and had a sharp, angular look between his brows.

Colonel Wang Tianfeng, codenamed "Poisonous Bee," acts swiftly and decisively, leaving no room for compromise. Others describe him as unpredictable, obsessive, and ruthless, but no one can deny that he is ruthless to himself, even more so to his enemies, and yet, towards his country, his ruthlessness is pure and passionate.

He had long ago staked his life on the front lines of the war against Japan, betting on the safety of the nation, not on personal honor or disgrace.

This contest was a scheme personally orchestrated by Guo Qiyun.

Throughout the entire fight, Wang Tianfeng stood behind the observation window on the second floor, his gaze never wavering.

Upon seeing Guo Qiyun enter, he glanced at him and said in a low, deep voice, "Tell me, what do you think?"

"Director," Guo Qiyun stood like a javelin, "Sixth Brother's choice is indeed extraordinary. I am indeed inferior to him."

"A brief test was conducted before he joined the class—Zhou Xiao is a top-notch agent material. His military foundation, honed by the Nanjing General Staff, is solid; he grasps everything—codes, communications, camouflage—with ease. The instructors privately say that he is quick-witted, can apply what he has learned to other situations, and is the most outstanding student since the class was established."

Wang Tianfeng tapped the table lightly twice with his fingertips, then suddenly asked, "How does he compare to Mingtai?"

"Maintaining a clear advantage."

"Okay." Wang Tianfeng waved his hand. "You can go back now."

"Yes!" Guo Qiyun saluted and withdrew.

The office fell silent again. Wang Tianfeng leaned back in his chair, paused for a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed: "Hold a dance tonight in the school auditorium, so the students can stretch their muscles and warm up the atmosphere."

"clear!"

After hanging up, he dialed another number.

The phone rang twice before the call was answered.

Wang Tianfeng sat up straight, his tone suddenly becoming solemn: "Sixth Brother."

On the other end of the phone was Zheng Yaoxian, known as "Sixth Brother" of the Military Intelligence Bureau.

"Old Wang? What's up?" Zheng Yaoxian's voice carried its usual hoarseness and weight.

"Sixth Brother," Wang Tianfeng said calmly, "Zhou Xiao, whom you brought in, is a truly promising talent—sharp-minded, with a solid foundation, and quick reflexes. I want to entrust him with an important task, so I've come to ask for your instructions."

Which one?

"Dead spy."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment after those two words were uttered.

A suicide spy is someone who uses their life as bait to spread false information to the enemy, making their own side pretend not to know, thus luring the enemy to believe it. As recorded in Sun Tzu's Art of War, of the five types of spies, only suicide spies go to the point of no return.

The entire plan was secretly devised by the top brass of the Military Intelligence Bureau: Wang Tianfeng feigned defection to the enemy, pretended to surrender to No. 76, and ingratiated himself with Wang Manchun, handing over the "secret" information of the A-area action group. He then "accidentally" leaked a meticulously crafted deployment map of the Third War Zone, leading the Japanese to believe it to be true and mobilize their troops to rush into the pre-set ambush area—a war of annihilation paved with lives, just waiting for the Japanese to walk into the trap.

But there is no way out in the deadly realm. Going in means goodbye forever.

Zheng Yaoxian was certainly aware of this.

Wang Tianfeng had been laying out this plan since the moment Mingtai boarded the plane; the probing on the plane was merely the prelude.

Now, he has his sights set on Zhou Xiao—more composed, more discerning, and more worthy of entrusting his life to than Mingtai.

But on the other end of the phone, Zheng Yaoxian paused for only half a second before replying decisively, "No. Zhou Xiao has another mission; he can't be moved."

"Sixth Brother, he's the most suitable."

"Even if it's suitable, it won't work." Zheng Yaoxian's voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like an iron plate. "I brought him out of Jinling to play the long game and catch big fish, not to just set him on fire and put it out."

"Is there really no room for negotiation?"

Wang Tianfeng pressed for answers. His observations over the past few days, coupled with Guo Qiyun's fall, convinced him that Zhou Xiao was the one who could turn a deadly spy into a living one.

Zheng Yaoxian answered decisively: "No. Old Wang, I'm the one who decides this."

"Alright then." Zheng Yaoxian was senior and influential in the Military Intelligence Bureau, and Wang Tianfeng had to think twice before even breathing in front of him. Moreover, when Wang Tianfeng was in trouble, it was Zheng Yaoxian who lent a helping hand. This favor was so heavy that no matter how crazy, stubborn, or unreasonable Wang Tianfeng was, he wouldn't dare to poach someone from under Sixth Brother's nose.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Wang Tianfeng narrowed his eyes and his Adam's apple bobbed slightly: "Then we can only bet on Mingtai."

As night fell, the military academy auditorium was brightly lit.

A lively dance party is underway.

Each training session includes a dance party, ostensibly to relax tense nerves, but in reality, it's a hidden trap—secret agents can't just know how to infiltrate and assassinate. Gait, rhythm, eye contact, distance—all are silently tested on the dance floor. The goal isn't to dance beautifully, but to step accurately, stand firmly, and see through the enemy's movements.

Mingtai glanced around and saw Yu Manli slip silently into the crowd, like a thin blade yet to be drawn. He nudged Zhou Xiao lightly with his elbow: "Hey, your 'love at first sight' girl is here."

"I already said, this is our first time meeting," Zhou Xiao replied lazily.

Yu Manli's gaze, sharp as a ruler, measured every inch of the noisy crowd before finally settling on Zhou Xiao. She stepped forward gracefully, her skirt swaying slightly, her voice clear and steady: "May I have this dance?"

Dance?

According to the original script, this dance was supposed to be Mingtai's part.

But now, the plot has quietly taken a turn.

Zhou Xiao paused for half a second, then stood up and nodded: "It's an honor."

The two walked into the dance floor side by side.

Mingtai looked at the two figures and shook his head with a light laugh: "In the end, Zhou Xiao still won this round."

In the center of the dance floor, soothing music played.

Yu Manli placed one hand on Zhou Xiao's shoulder, while he held the other hand loosely. Her waist was straight, and her posture was dignified, like a plum blossom sprouting in the snow—truly beautiful, and truly cold.

No wonder Mingtai privately called her "ice sculpture beauty".

Zhou Xiao remembered clearly: In the original drama, Yu Manli and Mingtai had just made contact when they used a spinning step to exchange blows, testing each other's strengths and weaknesses.

But in this parallel universe tonight, will the blade be drawn again?

"Miss Yu Manli," Zhou Xiao suddenly spoke, a smile playing on his lips, "why do you keep such a straight face? Your smile is almost blinding."

Yu Manli's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly—he actually knew her name? But she quickly dismissed the thought, her face remaining as cold as a still pond, without a ripple.

Zhou Xiao then asked, "There's something I want to ask you—did you really slip at the bathhouse that time?"