Chapter Seventy-Four: Moonwatch Base

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---------- Division Line ----------

In the tranquil mountain village, a convoy of vehicles slowly made its way along the rutted dirt road. As soon as they entered the village, many locals noticed the unfamiliar vehicles and gradually gathered around, each holding some makeshift weapon—such as a wooden pole—just in case.

In front of a stone house, the car door opened and Zhu Lan stepped out. Immediately, a dozen bodyguards emerged, alertly surveying the surroundings.

“Lan?” A woman at the door looked in disbelief at Zhu Lan as he got out.

“Mom—” Zhu Lan’s eyes brimmed with tears as he choked out the words.

“It really is you! Lan!” Hearing that familiar voice, the woman—Zhu Lan’s mother—could no longer restrain herself and rushed forward to embrace her son.

“Mom, I’m home!”

“Yes, you’re home, you’re home!” Mother and son clung to each other, both weeping.

Counting from his graduation, Zhu Lan had not returned home for four years. Apart from the occasional call during holidays, he had been away for a long time.

Sitting on a familiar low stool in the rundown house, Zhu Lan savored the taste of home.

The day after finalizing the agency rights, Zhu Lan had left the company and come home. He needed some time to compose himself and deal with the agency matters, as well as to avoid trouble from certain people. This was a secluded spot deep in the mountains—though near the sea, it was still a seven-kilometer stretch of dirt road from the nearest secondary highway. Even locals rarely knew of the village’s existence. It was not officially recorded in government documents until thirty-nine years after the founding of the nation, attesting to its remoteness.

Wangyue Village, also called Moonwatch Village, was where Zhu Lan had grown up. Surrounded on three sides by mountains and facing the sea on the fourth, it should have been an ideal place. However, there were issues with the seaward side.

Wangyue Bay, a century ago, was a renowned spot. Shrouded in fog year-round and ringed with dense reefs, without a local map, any ship venturing in would almost certainly meet its doom—wrecked on the reefs in thick fog.

In the 1920s, for reasons unknown, the fog disappeared. With the mystery gone, the bay lost its significance and was gradually forgotten by the world.

“Lan, since you’re back, stay a few days.”

“I will, Mom.”

“By the way, where’s Dad?”

“He’s out at sea. He’ll be back in two days or so.”

Zhu Lan frowned. Wangyue Bay was treacherous with reefs, and the nearby sea was not rich in marine resources. To fish, one had to venture much farther out to have any return.

“I thought he’d stopped going out to sea. Why is he still at it?”

“Sigh, who wants to go to sea anymore? Life in our village is getting harder and harder. If we don’t go out, there’s nothing to eat.”

Zhu Lan sighed. Though they lived by the sea, there were hardly any fish. Even as a child, seafood was a rarity. It was the village’s misfortune: the crops fared poorly due to the sea wind, and he often trekked over several hills with the adults to forage for food—a situation unthinkable in other coastal villages, yet this was the reality here. So close to the sea, yet unable to benefit from it—what bitter irony.

“Lan, what’s with all those people outside?”

Zhu Lan paused. “Mom, your son has made it big—those are my bodyguards!”

“Bodyguards? Lan, you haven’t done anything illegal, have you?”

“Of course not! You know your son—I would never do anything against the law.”

“A pity your father’s out at sea.”

“Lan, are you hungry? I’ll cook you something.”

“It’s alright, Mom. I’m not hungry. I’ll go see Uncle later.”

“My son, you’ve grown up!”

Zhu Lan just smiled.

Walking through the paths of Wangyue Village, Zhu Lan took in the surroundings. Though poor, the villagers had painstakingly paved the paths with stones over two decades, creating a web of connections throughout and beyond the village.

“You’re back, Zhu Lan! Made your fortune, haven’t you?”

“Aunt Luo, you’re as plump as ever!”

“Sixth Grandpa, playing chess again?”

Zhu Lan greeted his acquaintances one by one. If not for the bodyguards trailing him, the effect might have been even better.

Zhu Lan’s uncle, Zhu Yueting—the village chief—was already in his seventies, with a long beard, basking in the sun on a rocking chair as Zhu Lan approached.

“Lan? The village heard you were back. Got rich, did you?”

“Uncle!”

“You’re still the same after all these years.”

“Uncle.”

“Alright, enough. What brings you here?”

“Uncle, I want to help the village fix that road. I’d like you to take charge.”

“Fix the road? You’re serious, Lan?”

“Don’t tease me, Uncle. I’ve made some money, and I should do something for the village.”

“It’s good of you to think of the village. I’ll ask the others about the roadwork.”

“You’re not going to ask where the money came from, Uncle?”

“I trust you.”

Zhu Lan looked helplessly at his uncle.

News about the roadwork spread quickly through the village.

Zhu Lan’s return in a convoy, even if not in luxury cars, was proof enough that he’d made money. Some thought he was back to take his parents away for a better life, but the next day, it was announced that Zhu Lan had donated money to repair the road out of the village.

Wangyue Village fell under Baoping Town’s jurisdiction, with only one road—seven or eight kilometers of mud—connecting to the secondary highway, and then another six kilometers east to Baoping, the nearest populated area.

Zhu Lan transferred ten million yuan into the village account—enough to fund the roadwork.

Two days later, Zhu Lan saw his father.

Though his fishing trip hadn’t been fruitful, upon seeing his son, Zhu Yuxiao—Zhu Lan’s father—broke into a smile.

That night, when Zhu Lan handed his father a card with ten million on it, his father said nothing, just accepted it quietly.

The next day, Zhu Lan left. With his uncle in charge, there was nothing else for him to do in the village.

“Boss, this is a good place,” said a classical-looking woman beside Zhu Lan as they sat in the car.

“A good place? That’s not like you, Red Queen.”

The Red Queen, the intelligent computer overseeing the Azure Base, was now operating through the -002 simulation robot Zhu Lan had previously used, which she had modified into a subsystem.

Red Queen didn’t say more; she pressed a button, and a virtual screen appeared before Zhu Lan.

Soon, an overhead map of Wangyue Village appeared.

“What’s this?” Zhu Lan, recognizing the familiar map, began to understand Red Queen’s intention.

“Boss, this is an ideal location. According to data from Russian satellites, these mountains consist of extremely dense rock, enduring millions of years of weathering without significant erosion from the sea air. More detailed data will require deploying reconnaissance robots.”

“Especially here—Wangyue Bay. This is a remarkable place. The deepest part reaches six hundred meters, and the seabed is anything but ordinary. Some undetectable phenomena have been identified.”

Zhu Lan already knew Wangyue Bay was extraordinary.

Now, looking at the top-down view, he understood Red Queen’s plan.

“How confident are you?”

“The Azure Base is building an undersea passage not far from here, which could lead directly to this location. This area is desolate, which greatly benefits your plans, Boss!”

Red Queen’s meaning was clear. Though Azure Base was well-hidden, it wasn’t enough. Here, within dozens of kilometers, there were only a few villages and a single town, all surrounded by mountains. Even the coastline was dangerous, composed of reefs. Most importantly, the geology here was perfect for constructing an even larger base.

Zhu Lan fell silent.

“Boss, Azure Base can no longer support your plans.”

He sighed, “Conduct a survey first. Give me the report, and I’ll consider it.”

Construction of Azure Base wasn’t complete, but Zhu Lan’s ever-growing assets had already outstripped its capacity. In time, Azure Base would need an outlet, originally planned for the northern mountains near Fantasy Tech. But due to recent events, the military had taken an interest in that area.

Zhu Lan had already instructed Red Queen to build an underground tunnel straight to the coast, but progress was slow.

“I understand.”

“We’ll put the new base aside for now. We don’t have the resources to start another.”

Red Queen nodded. Though Fantasy Tech had reaped over thirty billion, there were many demands on the funds.

The gene optimization serum project required more personnel. Some of the equipment from the movies was useless; parts had to be bought in reality and modified by Red Queen to produce the serum. The second-generation serum’s research also needed more staff and equipment.

Lantian Yuan had been replaced as head of finance, now serving as acting sales manager in Lan Tianxin’s place, and was busy sourcing necessary equipment and materials worldwide.

Of the thirty billion from the agency rights, Zhu Lan had allocated ten billion on the first day alone, all for purchasing equipment and materials.

In cities like Shanghai, Beijing, Shenzhen, and others across the nation, Fantasy Tech had established a presence.

Fantasy Tech began its third round of recruitment, this time on a large scale—seven hundred researchers alone, plus clerks, technicians, engineers, and more. The third phase aimed to recruit over two thousand people.

Construction had resumed on buildings three, four, five, eight, and nine; more workers and vehicles were arriving, hauling in construction materials by the truckload.

Though the thirty billion had only just begun to be spent, two-thirds was already gone.

Production of the gene optimization serum had started, and the first batch was complete. Zhu Lan needed to hurry back—the delivery deadline was close.

“Boss, Manager Lan’s side is ready. The seven agents have all left.”

Zhu Lan nodded. “No issues?”

“A few, but all resolved. The Japanese, as always, had ulterior motives, but I took care of it.”

“Oh? What did they try this time?”

“Some micro surveillance devices, about the size of mosquitoes.” Red Queen produced a delicate metal mosquito.

Zhu Lan examined it, shaking his head with a smile. “Japanese technology is impressive. Few countries in the world can match this level of precision.”

“This is surveillance equipment from Japanese military special forces—costs seven hundred thousand dollars apiece, very expensive.”

“A bold move—sixteen of them. Any others?”

“No new micro-surveillance detected. Apart from the Japanese, the other agents did nothing unusual—just standard observation.”

Zhu Lan frowned. “That’s odd.”

“Let Kong Yan investigate—I want to know what they’re up to.”

Red Queen nodded. “Understood. She’s been notified, but it will take some time.”

The convoy merged into the traffic on the expressway, heading back to the city. Zhu Lan’s departure was completely secret. No one knew, and even if they did, Zhu Lan had secret weapons and bodyguards, so he had nothing to fear from any attack.

(To be continued.)