Invasion of America

Chapter 114 Question Submission
Under the guise of "procurement," Xiao Jinlang carefully avoided the gaze of everyone in the shelter and drove away from the shelter, which had been converted from an abandoned amusement park, in an inconspicuous SUV.

He drove north along Virginia's Highway 95, speeding toward Washington, D.C., which wasn't far away.

Along the way, he carefully chose three gas stations that were far apart to buy some ordinary daily necessities.

After repeatedly making sure that no suspicious vehicles or people were following him, he drove off the highway and parked in the shadow of a secluded overpass.

A dark-colored, old Ford sedan was already parked under the bridge pier.

As Xiao Jinlang cautiously approached, the driver's side window of the Ford slowly rolled down, revealing a completely unfamiliar white face.

His steps suddenly stopped, and a chill instantly shot from his spine to the top of his head, as if he had fallen into a carefully laid trap—had he been lured into a trap?

"Don't be nervous, Lao Xiao, it's me, Zhou Qingfeng." A slightly hoarse male voice came from inside the car, but it was clear and standard Mandarin.

The man, still sporting a mischievous smile, waved at him and said, "Get in the car, let's talk slowly."

Xiao Jinlang did not approach immediately. He narrowed his eyes and carefully examined the people inside the car again.

The middle-aged white man's eyebrows and facial features vaguely resembled Zhou Qingfeng's, but his skin and hair color were completely different, as if he had become a different race.

Sensing Xiao Jinlang's doubts, the person in the car sighed helplessly and began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the skin below his neck.

Her fair skin was strikingly different from the color of her face and neck, with a clear boundary indicating that this was not her natural skin tone.

Covering his head, face, and hands was a thin, elastic latex mask, while where the clothing concealed his original yellow skin.

Xiao Jinlang then lowered his guard slightly, got into the passenger seat, and asked in surprise, "Xiao Zhou, you didn't say you looked like this on the phone. What happened?"

"Old Xiao, don't you watch the news?" Zhou Qingfeng took out his phone, opened several news articles about the "White House" press conference, and showed a photo that occupied a prominent position.

Xiao Jinlang had been busy managing the shelter recently and hadn't really been aware of the outside situation. He didn't think much of it when he took the phone, but after reading the news, his pupils suddenly dilated.

"What...what does this mean? You're the person in the news?! You're Oliver Harden? How did you get in there?"

"It's a long story."

Zhou Qingfeng sighed, buttoned his shirt again, and slowly recounted his bizarre encounter at the National Air and Space Museum in the United States, as well as his accidental entry into the underground hospital.

It is said that it is not the cunning of bad people that is scary, but the sudden inspiration of fools.

Professor Hart, who was in charge of the underground hospital, was originally a meticulous scholar, but even the wisest can make a mistake.

In order to free up more beds and save more patients, he was desperate and came up with the bizarre idea of ​​arranging for Zhou Qingfeng to replace 'Oliver Harden'.

"As it turned out... no one expected that I seemed to have done a pretty good job, and the 'White House' actually called me and asked me to take on the role of Minister of Government Efficiency."

Zhou Qingfeng also felt that this matter was too absurd and helpless.

Xiao Jinlang listened, dumbfounded, as if hearing a bizarre and fantastical story; his mind went completely blank. He asked incredulously, "Oliver Harden is dead?"

"Yes, the body has been cremated," Zhou Qingfeng answered definitively.

“What about his family? What about his friends? He can’t just be an isolated figurehead.” Xiao Jinlang pressed on relentlessly.

“His parents have passed away. He had an ex-wife who remarried, bringing with her two sons who were under ten years old. I have his phone, and his fingerprints and iris information are also registered on my device.”

Harden does have some friends, but they all live in Tennessee. Several people have called to check on him these past few days, but Shane has turned them all away.

"Professor Hart and Shani... are they reliable?" Xiao Jinlang frowned, his tone grave.

"That's hard to say, Lao Xiao. I've only known them for a little over half a month, and it's all been a mutually beneficial arrangement. So far, the relationship seems to be quite harmonious," Zhou Qingfeng answered frankly.

Xiao Jinlang fired off a barrage of questions, even reaching out to touch the thin latex mask on Zhou Qingfeng's face, before finally letting out a long sigh:
"Oh my, in all these years of foreign affairs work, we've never seen anyone like you... so easily infiltrate the enemy's heart—no, you've practically drilled into the enemy's brain!"

Old Xiao's heart suddenly pounded. He was over fifty, yet he was as restless as a young man just starting out. "Xiao Zhou, what...are your plans now?"

Zhou Qingfeng, sitting in the driver's seat, looked up, his gaze unfocused. "I don't know what I should do, yet I have a strong urge to do something."

He paused, then said in a bold and tyrannical tone, "Just two days ago, I was in the 'White House,' surrounded by high-ranking U.S. cabinet officials."

Looking at the backs of those high-ranking officials' heads and necks, I was confident I could kill a dozen or twenty of them in an instant.

As he spoke, Zhou Qingfeng suddenly threw punches into the air with both hands gripping the steering wheel, repeating this more than ten times. His fists sliced ​​through the air, making a series of cracking sounds.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Xiao Jinlang could still clearly feel the sharp aura brought by the surging wind of the punch, even though there was a distance of more than half a meter between them.

The young man before me possesses immense strength, unstoppable power, and extraordinary circumstances; he is truly capable of fighting lions and tigers bare-handed and accomplishing something truly astonishing.

"No, no, no, it's such a waste to use your position for this kind of thing."

The Department of Government Efficiency is an agency that can directly influence the decisions of the highest levels of government in the United States. Don't be fooled by the fact that its every move is criticized—being criticized is a sign that it has sufficient power and influence.

If Zhou Qingfeng really gets that position, he can easily obtain what the country tries every means to get—he doesn't need to deal with any military secrets, which are actually not that important.

What's important is the governing logic and decision-making confidence of the US leadership, which means directly seeing through the enemy's cards and understanding the true thoughts of its president, vice president, and cabinet members.

This is strategic-level intelligence.

"Xiao Zhou, I can't make any decisions about this matter."

Don't do anything right now. The White House Chief of Staff has given you a leave of absence, so just find somewhere to stay put and make sure you're safe.

I will return to China immediately and report this personally.

Old Xiao sighed, feeling a great sense of responsibility. Looking at Zhou Qingfeng, he found the young man completely unconcerned. He couldn't help but sigh, "Alas, I'm destined to be a workaholic."
-
Xiao Jinlang explained the situation at the refugee camp, but didn't dare to notify the embassy or consulate. He bought his own plane ticket and returned to China overnight.

Fortunately, Electric Flight is a well-known company that once attracted *** to conduct on-site inspections, which allowed Lao Xiao to pass on the information to the 'higher-ups' during his quarantine period.

His very first sentence was shocking—"Boss, something terrible has happened! That guy who pulled off the 'aircraft carrier transporting packages' stunt last time has come up with another big one."

The "higher-ups" thought it was another "delivery" and thought, "No matter how much of a delivery it is, they can't just send me an aircraft carrier, can they?"
The enemy's aircraft carriers are good, but I can produce them myself now. The 'Super Stallion' I made last time was not bad either, at most it can be used as a reference for imitation.

As for high-end chips used in AI, we can't even produce those ourselves yet. They're good, but what's so special about them? They'll be available in a few years at most.

When the leaders learned that Xiao Jinlang insisted on reporting in person and refused to let outsiders relay the information, they had some expectations in mind—they knew that something big must have happened, but their rational minds couldn't think of anything crazy.

When Xiao Jinlang gave his report, he was very serious, explaining Zhou Qingfeng's current situation clearly point by point, but he could summarize it in one sentence.
"Because of the chaos caused by the pandemic in the United States, that guy got a government job. He did a good job, getting promoted in just half a month. Now he's at the top of the hierarchy, the head of the government's efficiency department."

The entire leadership was speechless. No one dared to believe that someone could so easily gain access to the upper echelons of the US government. After asking several times, a question arose: how could they be sure of the veracity of Xiao Jinlang's report?
-
The afternoon sun was a bit too bright. Steve Noem, codenamed 'Dias', stepped out of the heavily guarded Department of Homeland Security building and habitually looked around.

Nebraska Boulevard, usually bustling with traffic, was now deserted, with only a few cars passing by. The city had not yet recovered from its silence.

For this high-ranking intelligence officer, the two weeks following the outbreak of the epidemic felt like a long imprisonment.

He was trapped in the cold office, unable to move an inch. The intricate intelligence network had completely collapsed, like nerves eroded by a virus. Every day, thousands of people were sent to hospitals, their fates unknown, which terrified the agents responsible for the investigation and execution; none of them wanted to die of illness without knowing why.

Even though the White House has announced the end of the pandemic, many Department of Homeland Security employees are still wary and reluctant to return to work immediately.

This group of elites, who possess a wealth of state secrets, are well-versed in propaganda tactics of spreading rumors and smearing others. They are more aware than anyone of the enormous gap between official propaganda and the truth.

During the pandemic lockdown, they were like turtles in a jar, with nowhere to escape; now that the restrictions have been lifted, they are like wild horses, running away faster than anyone else.

Diaz also wanted to leave, but his position dictated that he couldn't escape. Instead, he had to stay and deal with the mess left behind by the pandemic and the thorny aftermath.

A dark-colored sedan was parked silently on the side of the road, and the driver in the driver's seat waved to 'Diaz' ​​through the car window.

There was a certain unspoken understanding between them. Without hesitation, he opened the passenger door and got in, asking calmly, "What do you want?"

The driver was an elderly senior bureaucrat from the Ministry of Finance. He called near lunchtime, vaguely indicating that he wanted to speak with 'Diaz' ​​privately.

This kind of "let's have a talk" is often an unspoken code in the power arena.

This implies a secret "conspiracy," a "spoils" of spoils, a private "decision," or the sharing of certain core "insider information."

True power operates like an undercurrent buried deep underground, never manifested in written documents, but rather in this seemingly casual manner.

The seasoned bureaucrat cut to the chase without any pleasantries: "Steve, how much do you know about Oliver Harden?"

“I don’t know.” Diaz shook his head and added simply, “But if necessary, I can find out everything about him.”

The senior bureaucrat smiled with satisfaction; this was exactly the answer he wanted.

"Then let's investigate this person. It would be best to create some scandals that can't be exposed, to bring him down completely, or... make him disappear forever."

Diaz naturally understood why Harden was a thorn in some people's side. He countered, "So, you guys really don't like him?"

“Who can tolerate a madman?” The senior bureaucrat, who even loathed the name 'Harden,' spoke with a tone full of resentment. “But the problem now isn’t Harden, it’s our… president.”

"President?" Diaz's nerves immediately tightened, and he asked anxiously, "What's wrong with the president?"

At the beginning of the pandemic, the president, who was in charge of "real estate," was unable to handle government affairs due to illness and had to temporarily transfer power to the vice president.

After enduring the ordeal of the epidemic for the past two weeks, many high-ranking officials have returned to their posts, but the "yellow-haired" guy who likes to boast in front of the camera has not returned.

A senior bureaucrat lowered his voice and replied, "There are rumors that our president... is brain dead."

The vice president is actively preparing for his own rise to power, and promoting Harden is one of his methods.

Diaz was startled by this. "Where did this source come from? I'm from the Department of Homeland Security, why haven't I heard a thing?"

The senior bureaucrat shrugged. "The president is currently at the military medical center in Fort Reed, where there are the tightest security measures in place, and the news is being kept very secret."

I cannot verify the authenticity of this news. I can only ask you, could you find a way to deal with Harden first and stop the Vice President's plan?

Diaz remained silent for a long time, making no promises, and finally only replied, "I'll think of something."

For the rest of the time, he lost all interest in his work until he drove back to his home in Maryland after get off work in the evening.

On his way home, all sorts of speculations and doubts grew wildly in his mind like entwined vines.

He couldn't resist turning on the car's infotainment system and aimlessly browsing the latest intelligence information, trying to glean a clue from it.

As he parked his car in front of his house, the screen displayed Oliver Harden's profile picture. Staring at his "colleague's" face, an inexplicable sense of unease washed over him.

"I feel like I've seen Harden somewhere before... This guy gives me a... familiar feeling."

Diaz trusted his intuition; that face must have left a deep impression on him somewhere in his memory.

Even after pushing open the door to his living room, Diaz was still deep in thought. He reached out to turn off the alarm behind the door…

The alarm's casing had been roughly dismantled, and the sensors that detected the opening of doors and windows were short-circuited, completely rendering it ineffective.

Diaz's pupils suddenly contracted, and he subconsciously reached for the pistol at his waist, his gaze sweeping across the quiet living room like a falcon's.

Then, he saw a sight that made his eyes widen in horror—a shocking trail of blood on the soft carpet in the living room.

Following the trail of blood, you'll find the entrance to the restaurant.

Reason screamed wildly, urging Diaz to immediately retreat, flee the scene, and call for help. But an irresistible emotion bound his legs, causing him to involuntarily take two steps forward.

He witnessed a heartbreaking scene—his wife, shot in the head, lay helplessly on the cold restaurant floor, blood spreading beneath her body.

“No…” 'Diaz' ​​tried to growl, but grief and anger made it hard for him to breathe, and his throat expanded but no sound came out.

At this moment, it was too late for him to retreat.

A silenced pistol emerged from the shadows of the restaurant, and with a soft 'thud,' a bullet was fired, striking him precisely in the chest.

The senior intelligence analyst from the Department of Homeland Security lost all his strength in an instant, and his body collapsed like a sack.

The shooter, wearing black stockings, quickly approached the fallen Diaz, put on gloves, and skillfully rummaged through his pockets, taking out his cell phone, wallet, and other personal belongings.

The dying 'Diaz' ​​stared wide-eyed at the murderer's face, which was tightly covered by stockings, making muffled struggle sounds in his throat as he tried to raise his hand to tear off the other's face.

Because of the extremely close proximity, he could vaguely make out the killer's general facial features through the thin stockings, and a startling guess flashed through his mind like lightning.

With his last ounce of strength, he cried out urgently, "Victor... I know it's you, it must be you!"
You... you've got some nerve, daring to impersonate 'Harden'... daring to sneak into the 'White House'...

I understand now, when I found the underground hospital, you didn't run away at all; you were hiding there, being protected by those medical staff.”

Beneath the black stockings was clearly the face of "Oliver Harden," but "Dias" accurately called out his real identity.

The killer tried to unlock Diaz's phone with his fingerprint, but failed several times, apparently because the cautious intelligence officer had not set up fingerprint unlock at all.

"You won't find any secrets from me... Don't even think about it!"

Knowing he was doomed, Diaz struggled to turn his eyes toward the restaurant, his voice filled with resentment as he roared, "You came to kill me, fine... but why did you have to kill my wife too?"

The murderer, wearing black stockings, looked down at him coldly, his tone icy and contemptuous: "When you went to kill Thomas, you also killed his wife."

I stayed at Thomas's house for several days, and every day I would stare blankly at the black bloodstains left on the sofa and walls. I could imagine how desperate and angry Thomas must have been.

"You can kill someone else's whole family, so why can't I kill yours? In this world... are you the only one with family?"

(End of this chapter)