American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

Lynn typed rapidly on the computer, writing a short report outlining his analysis. His conclusion was that Oasis Technology was likely a shell company used for money laundering; the "consulting fees" were actually the inflow of illicit funds, and the non-existent "advisors" were fictitious identities used to transfer funds.

“Time’s up,” Mr. Lin announced.

Lynn stopped typing and saved the report. He looked up at the other two people—the bald, burly man looked strained, beads of sweat on his forehead; the young man in the baseball cap looked blank, with only a few lines of text on the screen.

Mr. Lin walked to each person's desk and reviewed their reports. He lingered longest on Lynn's report, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes.

“Very good,” he said. “The three of you have completed the document processing test. The results will be announced later today. Now, please wait in the waiting area outside.”

They were led back to the hall and made to sit on the row of chairs to wait. The atmosphere became tense, and the three of them remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Mr. Lin reappeared.

“The evaluation results are in,” he said. “First of all, congratulations, Mr. Jack Bryan. You performed exceptionally well in all three areas, especially in weapons skills and document processing, where you far surpassed the others. You passed the evaluation.”

Lynn nodded, her expression calm, but she felt a sense of relief.

“Secondly,” Mr. Lin turned to the bald, muscular man, “Mr. Zhang, your physical fitness and marksmanship are excellent, but your document processing skills are too poor. However, considering your other strengths, we have decided to give you a chance. You are hired as a field agent.”

A hint of joy appeared on the burly man's face. "Thank you."

Finally, Mr. Lin looked at the young man in the baseball cap, his expression turning cold, "Mr. Li, I regret to inform you that your overall performance did not meet our requirements. Please leave."

The young man's face turned pale. "But—"

“No buts,” Mr. Lin interrupted him, “Please leave.”

Two guards came over and dragged the young man toward the door. The young man tried to struggle, but the guards were too strong, and he couldn't resist at all.

"Let me go! I can try again—"

The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off his voice.

Mr. Lin turned to the remaining two people, his professional smile returning to his face.

“Congratulations on officially becoming candidates for the organization,” he said. “But there is one last step before you officially join.”

"What step?" Lynn asked.

“A loyalty test,” Mr. Lin said. “Please follow me.”

He led the two men out of the hall, through another corridor, and to the back of the building. There stood a heavy metal door, unmarked, with only a keypad lock.

Mr. Lin entered the password, and the door slowly opened.

Behind the door was a narrow staircase leading underground. They went down the staircase, descending about two floors, and arrived at a basement.

The basement was much larger than Lynn had imagined. It was a spacious concrete space with a few dim lights hanging from the ceiling and water stains and mold on the walls. There was a damp, chilly smell in the air, mixed with something more pungent—rust? Or blood?

In the center of the basement was a metal chair, with a person strapped to it.

Lynn's heart started racing.

He was a middle-aged man, around fifty years old, wearing a wrinkled white shirt and trousers, with obvious stains and tears in his clothes. His face was covered in bruises and bloodstains, one eye was swollen shut, and a dried bloodstain hung from the corner of his mouth. His hands were handcuffed to the armrests of the chair, and his feet were also bound. He hung his head weakly and made faint groans.

“This gentleman,” Mr. Lin walked to the chair, “is a traitor we recently apprehended. His name is Zhou Jianguo, and he used to be the owner of a small tech company in the Bay Area.”

He crouched down, grabbed Zhou Jianguo's hair, and lifted his face so that Lin En and the burly man could see clearly.

“Mr. Zhou and we have had some business dealings,” Mr. Lin’s tone turned icy, “but recently we discovered that he has been providing intelligence about us to the FBI. He is a whistleblower.”

Lynn tried hard to control her expression, not letting her inner shock show.

Zhou Jianguo. He'd never heard of this name before, but if this person really was an FBI informant, then his identity should be kept secret. How did the Brotherhood find out?
“There’s only one fate for an informer,” Mr. Lin stood up, pulled a pistol from his pocket, “Death.”

He handed the pistol to Lynn.

“Mr. Jack, this is a test of your loyalty,” he said, his eyes fixed on Lynn. “Kill him.”

Lynn took the pistol, feeling the cold weight of the metal pressing against his hand. His mind raced, weighing the various possibilities.

If he refuses, his identity might be exposed, or at least he might be suspected. All his previous efforts would be wasted, and his own life could be in danger.

But if he pulls the trigger, he will be killing someone who could be innocent—someone who could be an FBI informant. This would not only violate his professional ethics but also his basic moral principles.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Lin noticed his hesitation. "Is there a problem?"

“No,” Lynn said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I was just thinking that killing him outright would be too easy on him.”

"Oh?" Mr. Lin raised an eyebrow. "What suggestions do you have?"

“Let me ask him a few questions,” Lynn said. “Perhaps he has other valuable information he hasn’t revealed. Killing someone is easy, but getting information out of them is much more important.”

Mr. Lin was silent for a few seconds, seemingly considering the proposal.

“You have a point,” he finally spoke, “but we’ve already interrogated him, and he’s said everything he needed to say. Now he’s just a useless piece of trash.”

“Perhaps there’s something else you haven’t asked,” Lynn insisted. “Give me five minutes.”

Mr. Lin looked at him, a strange light flickering in his eyes. Then, he smiled slightly.

“Okay,” he said, “five minutes.”

Lynn walked up to Zhou Jianguo, squatted down, and looked him in the eye.

“Mr. Zhou,” he said in a low voice, trying to make sure only the two of them could hear, “listen, I’m here to help you. But you must cooperate with me.”

Zhou Jianguo struggled to open his still-functioning eye and looked at Lynn. His eyes were filled with fear and despair, but also with a glimmer of hope.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse and almost inaudible.

“Friend,” Lynn said, “tell me, how were you discovered? Who betrayed you?”

Zhou Jianguo swallowed hard. "I...I didn't know they suddenly came to arrest me. I thought...I thought everything was safe."

"Who is your contact with the FBI?"

"I can't say. If I do, he'll die too."

"Does he already know you've been arrested?"

Zhou Jianguo shook his head, tears streaming from his swollen eyes. "I don't know. I've been held captive for three days. Nobody's come to rescue me." Three days. If Zhou Jianguo really was an FBI informant, his contacts should have noticed his disappearance by now. But why hasn't anything been done?
A sense of foreboding washed over Lynn. Perhaps Eileen Shaw was right—the people around him might be far more complicated than he imagined.

“Time’s up,” Mr. Lin’s voice came from behind. “Mr. Jack, it’s time to do what you need to do.”

Lynn stood up and faced Mr. Lin.

“He doesn’t have any useful information left,” he said. “You’re right, he’s just a piece of trash.”

"Then let's get started."

Lynn raised his gun and pointed it at Zhou Jianguo's head.

Zhou Jianguo's eyes were wide open, his lips trembling, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

Lynn's finger rested on the trigger, applying slight pressure.

In that instant, countless images flashed through his mind—the day he joined the FBI, the pride he felt when he apprehended his first criminal, his belief in justice, and his expectations for himself.
But at the same time, he also thought of the innocent people who might be killed by the Brotherhood—tourists in Times Square, passersby on the streets of New York, anyone who might become the target of the next terrorist attack.

If he gives up now, those people will have no hope.

He took a deep breath, and then—

boom.

A shot rang out.

Zhou Jianguo's body shuddered violently, then he slumped softly into the chair. A black bullet hole appeared on his forehead, and blood slowly trickled down, dripping onto the concrete floor.

Lynn lowered his gun, turned around, and faced Mr. Lin. His expression was calm as still water, but his heart felt as if it had been violently torn apart.

“Very good,” Mr. Lin nodded with satisfaction, “You are more decisive than I imagined.”

He took the gun from Lynn and then turned to the bald, muscular man who had been standing silently to the side.

"Mr. Zhang, it's your turn."

The burly man's face turned deathly pale. "What? But he's already dead."

“I know,” Mr. Lin said, “but there’s more than one way to test loyalty.”

He took another gun out of his pocket and handed it to the burly man.

"Your test is—to shoot a corpse."

The burly man was stunned. "What?"

“It’s simple,” Mr. Lin said. “Shooting that corpse proves you’re not afraid or hesitant about this kind of thing. You see many similar scenes in our organization. If you can’t even face a corpse, how can you carry out more difficult missions?”

The burly man hesitated for a few seconds, then took the gun and fired a shot at Zhou Jianguo's body.

The bullet struck the body in the chest, but there was no reaction.

“Very good,” Mr. Lin said, sheathing his gun. “Congratulations to both of you; you have officially passed all the tests. From now on, you are official members of the Brotherhood.”

He took two small boxes out of his pocket and handed them to Lynn and the burly man.

“This is your membership badge,” he said. “Keep it with you and don’t lose it. It’s the only proof of your identity.”

Lynn opened the box; inside was a black metal badge, triangular in shape with an eye pattern in the center. It was exactly the same as the profile picture he had seen on WeChat before.

“More information about the organization will be provided in subsequent training sessions,” Mr. Lin continued. “That’s all for today. Please wait outside; someone will escort you out.”

They were brought back to the surface and then taken to a parking lot. A black SUV was already waiting there, driven by a silent young man who didn't say a word the entire time.

The SUV drove back towards San Francisco along the same route it had come from. Lynn sat in the back seat, looking out the window at the scenery.

The sky had darkened, and the city lights in the distance began to illuminate, appearing especially warm in the hazy twilight. But Lynn's heart remained cold.

When Lynn returned to the hotel, it was already past nine o'clock at night.

Kevin was waiting for him in the room and immediately stood up when he saw him come in. "You're back! How did it go? Did you pass the test?"

Lynn didn't answer immediately. He walked to the window, looked at the night view outside, and remained silent for a while.

“Lynn?” Kevin noticed his unusual expression. “What happened?”

“I passed,” Lynn’s voice was calm, but carried a barely perceptible weariness. “I am now a full member of the fraternity.”

“That’s great!” Kevin exclaimed with delight, but quickly noticed Lynn’s unusual mood. “But you don’t seem very happy.”

Lynn turned around and looked at Kevin. He considered whether to tell him what had happened that day, and finally decided to tell the truth.

“They made me kill someone,” he said, “a small-time businessman named Zhou Jianguo. They said he was an FBI informant who had been discovered.”

Kevin's face turned deathly pale. "What? You...you really killed him?"

"Yes."

A deathly silence fell over the room. The city lights outside the window still flickered, and the occasional car horn sounded in the distance, but these sounds seemed to come from another world, completely out of place with the heavy atmosphere in the room.

“Lynn,” Kevin’s voice trembled, “do you know what you’re doing?”

“I know,” Lynn said. “This is the price of an undercover operation. If I refuse, they will kill me, and the whole plan will fall apart. More people will die because of it.”

"But--"

“No buts,” Lynn interrupted him. “I did what I had to do. Now the most important thing is to continue this mission, gather more evidence, and completely dismantle the Brotherhood. Only then will Zhou Jianguo's death not have been in vain.”

Kevin looked at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions—shock, worry, and a hint of barely concealed fear.

“You’ve changed,” he said softly.

“Perhaps,” Lynn turned and continued looking out the window, “In this world, sometimes you have to become a monster to fight monsters.”

They remained silent for a long time. Finally, Kevin broke the silence.

"Is Zhou Jianguo really an FBI informant?"

“I’m not sure,” Lynn said. “That’s what they said, but I have no way to verify it. I need you to check if the FBI has an informant named Zhou Jianguo, and whether he has recently gone missing.” (End of Chapter)