A generation of soldiers begins with Feng Yuxiu traveling through time and space with Xu Sanduo

"Quick, quick! Don't just stand there! Something terrible has happened!"

Inside the Pentagon, well-dressed government employees were shouting and running wildly down the corridors, scattering documents all over the floor without bothering to pick them up.

The once solemn and dignified office area is now as chaotic as a market that has just closed, with messy footsteps everywhere.

"The Bruce family! Gone! The whole family has been wiped out! Terrorists have infiltrated the American mainland!" A middle-aged man wearing black-rimmed glasses, his face as white as paper, his lips trembling, could barely speak. "This...this...could this be a repeat of 9/11 five years ago? I don't want to experience it again!"

He had barely finished speaking when another man in a jacket stumbled over, shouting at the top of his lungs, "It's terrible! We just received an urgent report! Congressman Smith and his entire family are gone! Not a single one was left alive, they were all killed!"

"Damn it! God! Please bless America!" Someone panicked on the spot, clasped his hands together and muttered incoherently to the ceiling, his voice full of despair.

Another group of people crowded around the window like headless flies, clinging to the glass and staring intently at the sky outside, not daring to blink.

They were terrified that, just like five years ago, two planes would crash straight into the building at any moment.

The entire Pentagon was in complete chaos, with hurried footsteps, panicked shouts, and ringing telephones all mixed together.

Despite the chaos, security at the entrance remained tight, more than ten times stricter than usual. The facial recognition scanner at the entrance was buzzing, scanning people at lightning speed.

"If he's not from the Pentagon, we'll immediately alert the police if we scan him; there's absolutely no way we'll let him in!"

A security guard, gripping his baton with taut muscles in his arm, muttered to his colleague, "This place is impregnable. Trying to sneak in? No way! Unless he can turn into a fly and fly in!"

The group was making a lot of noise, and no one noticed that the door to the storage room not far away had quietly opened a crack.

Feng Yuxiu leaned against the door frame, listening to the chaotic noise outside.

He lowered his head and tightened the belt around his waist, then grabbed a gray baseball cap from the shelf in the storeroom and put it on, pulling the brim down so that it almost covered most of his face.

She tugged at the black scarf around her neck, covering everything below her nose except for her eyes.

After doing all this, he strolled out of the storage room as if he were visiting his own backyard, mingled with the flustered office staff, and slipped into the office area.

The Pentagon is a really big place, Feng Yuxiu glanced at the introduction on the wall.

Covering an area of ​​235.9 million square meters and with a total building area of ​​60.8 square meters, it looks like a five-pointed star, so it's no wonder that Americans call it the Pentagon.

He stood in the corridor of the office area and glanced to both sides. The size of this place was almost like a small town. It would really take some effort to find someone.

In the open area at the center of the building, there was a blackened airplane wreckage, covered in rust, with charred edges from being burned.

Feng Yuxiu glanced at it and then looked away.

Without a doubt, it must be debris from the plane that was attacked on 9/11 five years ago. Americans certainly know how to hold grudges; they even put it here as a memento.

The office of Smith that he was looking for was on the fourth floor.

It might be hard to believe, but he came up from the first floor without encountering any obstacles.

Along the way, the people he encountered were either rushing around delivering messages or anxiously making phone calls, shouting into the other end of the line. No one even glanced at him; it was as if he were invisible.

Feng Yuxiu walked straight to Smith's office door, glanced left and right to make sure no one was paying attention to him, then gently turned the doorknob, went in, and casually closed the door behind him.

Actually, this matter is quite simple. No one would have thought that someone would actually dare to break into the Pentagon in broad daylight.

After all, this place is full of high-speed cameras, and federal agents and special forces are guarding it. Everyone who enters has to swipe a chip-embedded badge, and the whole process is under surveillance. Even breathing might be recorded.

Strangers who come in are like fireflies in the dark; they are immediately spotted.

Feng Yuxiu walked behind the desk and plopped down in Smith's office chair. He spun the chair around a bit and tapped the desk lightly with his fingers. "Not to mention the eight layers of security at the main entrance, with identity checks and chip scanning. If it were an ordinary person, they would probably be stopped as soon as they got to the door and wouldn't even be able to get in."

But Feng Yuxiu is no ordinary person.

His ancient martial arts training wasn't for nothing. When he came up, he encountered a security camera in the corridor. He lightly touched the ground with his toes and darted behind the beam on the third floor in a flash. His speed was so fast that the camera didn't even have time to capture his shadow, as if he teleported.

In fact, if you're a U.S. citizen, you don't need to go through all this trouble.

The Pentagon can be visited by appointment, but you can only tour the public areas on the first and second floors. There's no way you can get into the office area.

Feng Yuxiu opened the computer on the table with practiced ease, and his fingers flew across the keyboard.

A few moments later, a bunch of encrypted files popped up on the computer screen. He entered a password to crack the code, and the confidential files were immediately revealed. Sure enough, he found records about himself.

However, the record was written too perfunctorily, just a few lines and a brief mention of his whereabouts, including his battle on Crescent Island and his experience in Rwanda, which made Feng Yuxiu frown.

"Goodness, my whereabouts are pretty transparent, huh? So, I'm being watched wherever I go?" Feng Yuxiu chuckled self-deprecatingly, leaning back in his chair and gazing absently at the sky outside the window.
My lifelong passion is martial arts. I just wanted to find a peaceful place to practice my skills. I never imagined that one day, the US government would take note of it. It's almost surreal.

He glanced at the annotations in the file and realized that it must have been compiled by Smith himself.

After all, he is a member of Congress and has the right to access certain information, but this file was not uploaded to the U.S. military. It is considered his private record, probably intended to be used as leverage in the future.

Without hesitation, Feng Yuxiu authorized the computer, tapped a few times on the keyboard, and deleted all records related to himself.

Actually, the most difficult part of this mission was escaping from the encirclement and how to infiltrate the Pentagon.

The rest wasn't as complicated as I'd imagined.

After all, no one would have thought that someone would dare to openly barge in and delete records; that's incredibly audacious.

Moreover, one advantage of US government computers is that they can completely delete files; once deleted, they are irretrievable if the operation is done correctly.

Otherwise, given their method of handling documents, they would have leaked all the secrets long ago. How could they have remained safe and sound until now? They would probably have been infiltrated to the core by now.

After deleting his own records, Feng Yuxiu rummaged through his computer again, trying to find any information that could help Yuan Lang and the others.

Their mission has probably already begun. Every little bit helps; more people means more strength.

But he flipped through it for a good ten minutes, and all he found were trivial matters about the military and politics of other countries and Syria, nothing of any useful secrets.

Feng Yuxiu couldn't help but roll his eyes and close the drawer of the bookcase: "Although Smith is a member of Congress, he is not a core figure in the State Department, and the information he has access to is only of this level." He stood up, glanced out the window, and confirmed that it was still a mess outside and no one was paying attention to this side. He then pulled his scarf up to cover his face even more, and turned to walk towards the door.

Since he came in, no one has spoken to him, and no one has suspected him.

After all, who else but our own people could walk so openly in the Pentagon's classified areas?
But Feng Yuxiu didn't dare to delay any longer.

He had to leave quickly, otherwise the name tag he had taken from Smith would be useless once Smith's death was entered into the system.

When the system detects a dead person still wandering around the building, it will immediately sound the alarm, making it difficult to leave.

"I'm not that arrogant, thinking I can escape the Pentagon safely with ancient martial arts." He stroked his chin, thinking to himself, "This isn't a fantasy movie. My skills are just taking advantage of the fact that technology isn't that advanced yet. If I were surrounded by agents and special forces, I'd still have a headache. You can't fight off four hands with two fists, let alone when they have guns and cannons."

Thinking of this, Feng Yuxiu quickened his pace and walked rapidly down the corridor, soon finding the toilet.

He pushed open the door, locked it, checked the cubicle again to make sure no one was around, then walked to the window and gently opened it a crack to observe the situation outside.

Once he was sure it was safe, he pushed off the wall with his toes and darted out of the window.

He was incredibly fast, sprinting down the north wall of the Pentagon, using the protrusions in the wall for leverage.

As he approached the first floor, his eyes narrowed, and the second level of the Ape Strike Technique erupted instantly. He lightly tapped his feet against the wall, and his body transformed into a white ape afterimage, shooting straight towards the open space outside. He landed silently, only kicking up a little dust.

Almost at the moment he landed, a piercing alarm suddenly sounded in the Pentagon.

Smith's death has finally been entered into the system.

The entire building was instantly sealed off; the doors were locked and the windows began to close automatically.

Outside, several helicopters hovered in the sky, their searchlights scanning back and forth.

On the ground, American SWAT officers surged into the building like a tidal wave, guns drawn, shouting, "Seal off all exits! No one is allowed to leave!"

Meanwhile, the agents investigating the Smith family's residence also discovered a critical problem, shouting into their walkie-talkies: "Report! Major discovery! Smith's name tag is missing! We've searched everywhere, but we can't find it!"

"Name badge?" The agent in charge frowned, looking puzzled. He subconsciously touched his own name badge. "Why would the person who killed him need a name badge? This thing is only useful in the Pentagon; it's just a piece of scrap metal everywhere else... Could it be... could it be that someone has already infiltrated the Pentagon?"

He paused, his expression growing increasingly grave, his voice deepening: "While the Pentagon's secrets may not shake the foundations of the United States, they are by no means trivial! Above the fifth floor are several other buildings, all core areas of the Army, Navy, and Air Force. We cannot afford any mishaps! Immediately notify those inside to conduct a thorough investigation!"

“Although Smith isn’t a high-ranking official in the State Department, he participated in missions related to the Iraq War and knows a lot of inside information,” another agent analyzed, stroking his chin. “Besides those lunatics in the Middle East, who would do something like this? From Bruce Park to the Pentagon, this is clearly an act of retaliation! It must have been done by terrorists in the Middle East!”

The group of people discussed the matter, and the more they analyzed it, the more reasonable it seemed. They immediately focused their investigation on Middle Eastern terrorists and began to deploy a screening of Middle Eastern personnel.

Feng Yuxiu walked quickly, deliberately taking secluded paths. After walking for a while, he pulled his scarf down a bit.

He looked up at the sun in the sky, checked his direction, quickened his pace, and soon disappeared around the corner of the street.

After leaving Washington, Feng Yuxiu did not go to see Yuan Lang.

Yuan Lang and his team excluded him from their mission; he didn't need to participate.

As for Wang Yadong, as long as he doesn't actively expose his identity, he should be able to escape the hospital given his mercenary skills.

Feng Yuxiu's current problem is how to leave the United States. He went directly to New York City and found the local Chinatown.

Chinatown is a mixed little community with everything, including shady businesses and gangs.

Nothing is new in this era, and Feng Yuxiu, with his insight from his previous life, quickly found the gangs that remained in the United States.

"What?"

In a hair salon in Chinatown, several thugs with dragon tattoos on their left shoulders smoked and sized up Feng Yuxiu.

Feng Yuxiu narrowed his eyes. "Hung Hing? Let me think... Chicken should all be dead by now... Let me think... Right, Crow is dead too... Is Chan Ho-nam still alive?"

Feng Yuxiu's decisive battle with Xiahou Wu in Hong Kong took place in 2014, so he was quite familiar with the Hung Hing Gang.

"You little punk, are you looking for death? You think I won't kill you?"

Several henchmen pulled out machetes from their waistbands and pointed them gleamingly at Feng Yuxiu.

Feng Yuxiu chuckled. "Look, you traitors are still the same. Back when I challenged the entire martial arts world, your Hung Hing Gang had already almost disbanded. In a few more years, I suppose."

"He's asking for it! Brothers, kill him!"

The most dangerous people in Tang are the Chinese, and the Chinese are the most ruthless towards each other.

Here, killing a Chinese person is as simple as killing a dog, and there's no accountability.

Feng Yuxiu smiled.

-

-

"Big brother, big brother, a tough nut has come out!"

A young man with a bruised and swollen face rushed into the massage parlor, shouting in terror.

"What are you doing? Can't you see you're playing cards with some bosses? Is your mother dead?"

The gang leader stood up and roared, "You're all overseas now, remember to tone down your Hong Kong temper! This isn't the 90s anymore. How did Chicken and the others die? They didn't know how to restrain themselves. Do you want to end up like that?"

“No…” the younger brother stammered, pointing outside.

boom!
The door to the massage parlor was kicked open, and Feng Yuxiu walked in, his gaze sweeping over the portrait hanging on the wall and freezing there.

"I never imagined that Wang Zhe, a master of grappling, would actually have a shady business in New York. A grappling grandmaster in the martial arts world actually runs a massage business." (End of Chapter)