Chapter 54: This Woman Cannot Be Provoked

Delta Force?
Alpha Group?
SAS?
All of them former special forces soldiers?
As Xing Xiaolong heard each of these illustrious names—names that shone with a legendary aura wherever they were uttered—he felt his mind spinning, unable to keep up.
Utterly bewildered!
Even the burly, bearded man who called himself “Tiger,” with his massive fist nearly brushing Xing Xiaolong’s face, made no further move.
As a humble former security guard, Xing Xiaolong had always longed to become a special forces soldier. But never had he imagined that, so suddenly, he would find himself face to face with three of them—
No, very likely seven!
Even though Tiger had introduced only three, it wasn’t hard to guess that the others on the team, qualified to join such a mission, had to be of similar caliber.
Barring any surprises!
These six men and one woman were almost certainly all at least special forces level—perhaps even elites from world top-ten units.
A mediocre team would never qualify for a $2 million, Class A mission.
With such a high standard of personnel, were they not an official “National Rescue Team”? Or perhaps a covert rescue unit discreetly assembled by some government, constrained by the complexities of international politics?
Xing Xiaolong was seriously suspicious!
“Kid, are you deaf? My temper isn’t so good. You’d better apologize, or else…” Tiger, noticing Xing Xiaolong’s long silence, was clearly growing impatient.
“Captain, let it go. He’s just inexperienced. Besides, he’s an outside asset required by the mission. We’ll need to work together soon, won’t we?”
At that moment, the room’s only woman stepped forward, patting Tiger’s shoulder.
“Finally, someone reasonable,” thought Xing Xiaolong, sighing in relief and retreating a step to avoid that fist as large as a cooking pot.
“An outside asset? Hmph.”
Tiger clearly disagreed, sneering, “There are no calluses from firearms on his hands. His gait has some discipline, likely from basic military training, but there’s no instinct for defense or attack.
There’s no scent of the battlefield about him, nor the sharpness of someone who’s killed. He’s like a lamb. I can say without a doubt he’s just a run-of-the-mill low-ranking military man.
And you think someone like that can be our asset? Is it you, or me, who needs a lamb’s help in battle? Black Fox, if you’re joking, I’ll look for you if we make it back alive in two days. But for now, enough.”
“Damn, does this guy have X-ray eyes? How does he know everything?” Xing Xiaolong was stunned once again.

He’d always known special forces were impressive—after all, they underwent hellish, devil-level training. But that was just an abstract idea; he’d never truly grasped what it meant.
Now, with just a few words, Tiger had seen right through him, inside and out.
For the first time, Xing Xiaolong understood why special forces were called special.
Their military skills were only part of it. What truly set them apart was the keen, ruthless insight honed through countless deadly experiences.
“I’m sorry!”
Xing Xiaolong still didn’t know what a PMC was, but he had been the one to misjudge their profession. After all, mercenaries hardly had a sterling reputation. Admitting fault was nothing to be ashamed of.
A real man owns up to his actions!
“Good, you’ve got some guts. I accept your apology. Stay put, and I’ll take you out for some real excitement soon, ha!”
Tiger’s personality matched his appearance—a classic rough and temperamental brute.
One moment furious, the next laughing heartily, he took a swig from his flask, set it down, and went back to checking his gear.
But despite all he’d said, Tiger had never introduced himself. That, too, said something:
He still looked down on Xing Xiaolong.
Those who had survived real life-and-death battles had no patience for armchair soldiers. It was a sense of superiority based on strength—a well-known hierarchy of disdain.
Though Xing Xiaolong was indignant, the facts were plain.
He could only shake his head with a wry smile, silently cheering himself on: “I’m not as strong as they are, true, but I have two golden tools. Soon enough, they’ll see—this sheep isn’t here to graze.”
Compared to Tiger’s deep-seated pride, the other five men—each robust and imposing—simply watched coldly from the sidelines.
It didn’t take a genius to see that they, too, held him in contempt.
Only the lone woman was any different; not only had she stepped in to defuse the situation, but her face showed no hint of disdain.
After calming the irascible captain, Tiger, the woman—about five foot seven, perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, features not delicate but with a rugged beauty—stood out from the six men in their standard all-terrain camouflage, dressed instead in a black, form-fitting tactical suit that outlined her striking figure.
She walked up to Xing Xiaolong, offered her hand with a smile, and said, “We’re members of the rescue team for this operation. Codename: ‘Two Wolves.’ I’m called Black Fox, the intelligence officer. Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you!”
Thinking he’d finally met someone approachable, Xing Xiaolong took the woman’s seemingly delicate hand—only to discover, as he grasped it, that his judgment was entirely wrong.
Though her hand looked soft, it was rougher than his own.
And when he tried to pull away, her grip tightened with astonishing strength, locking his hand in place—he couldn’t break free at all.

Her face still smiling, her voice calm, she continued, “You’re strong, and a bit handsome. I wouldn’t mind sharing a drink with you some evening. But…
Until we’ve recovered the package, I’d appreciate it if you could recognize your place, and quietly, obediently, stay at the back of the team. All right?”
Now that was a true velvet-gloved iron fist.
A woman’s heart—impossible to predict.
Deadly games in a smiling guise!
This beautiful intelligence officer, smiling sweetly yet emanating an unmistakable aura of danger, offered Xing Xiaolong the perfect demonstration.
This woman named Black Fox was putting him in his place.
Unlike Tiger’s blunt approach, she wielded her authority with a smile—a perfect example of the old saying: “Death by gentleness.”
“OK, OK!”
Xing Xiaolong didn’t want to admit defeat, but the increasing pain in his right hand, still trapped in Black Fox’s grip, forced him to nod repeatedly in agreement.
Now Xing Xiaolong understood completely: this group didn’t trust him at all. In fact, they were “afraid”—afraid he’d get them all killed.
Hence the “friendly” warning!
Damn it, despite being a capable, five-year veteran with a sturdy six-foot frame, he was being collectively rejected.
He couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.
But that was the reality!
On the battlefield, the greatest danger was not a strong enemy, but an ignorant teammate who faked competence and dragged everyone down.
Everyone in this room was a former special forces soldier; no one knew this better than they did.
If not for the mission’s strict requirement to include Xing Xiaolong as an external asset—and the irresistible lure of a $2 million payout—these people would never take such a risk, bringing in a complete outsider who could at any moment doom the entire team.
Perhaps because Xing Xiaolong’s response was “sincere” enough, Black Fox decided not to press him further.
Still, the interaction left Xing Xiaolong shivering with nerves!
This woman—one moment this, the next that, smiling as she set the trap—was as unpredictable as a summer storm. Who knew what she was thinking?