830: Chapter 77: Huitian Organization Bides Its Ti 830: Chapter 77: Huitian Organization Bides Its Ti The discovery of bananas, and the subsequent mass extinction event, sounds completely incidental, as if it were God’s gigantic hand whimsically toying with fate—life when it desires life, death when it demands death—shrouded in layers of mystique and fantasy.
But this matter cannot be pondered too deeply.
If you think it through, the legendary banana extinction fungus feels terrifying beyond asure, capable of transcending millions of miles of geographic barriers to eradicate banana plantations across the world.
It sounds eerily similar to those apocalypse-thed novels where the author deliberately sets up a biochemical disaster switch—a simultaneous outbreak that ignores physical barriers, turning people into zombies in cities worldwide in a matter of monts.
Don’t ask why—if you ask, it’s just how the premise works.
History is but a lousy ledger, endlessly rewritten and edited at will.
Wang Yunxiao understood the principle of restraining intervention in local affairs.
When the human immune system can operate independently, it’s best not to rely on dicine—most drugs only alleviate surface symptoms, such as reducing fever, relieving inflammation, clearing the lungs, or silencing a cough, without tackling the root of the illness.
Excessive dication leads to drug resistance, and worse, it can even cause drug dependency.
But now they faced a patient lying in the ICU, hooked up to an untold number of tubes.
Issues like drug resistance couldn’t be considered at this mont—they had to prioritize survival.
Once post-surgical infections occur… Of course, we’re referring to Huitian’s interference behind the scenes.
Whether their goals can be achieved is uncertain, but in the current semi-comatose state of the nation, this interference could easily send the tides of the era spiraling entirely out of control.
The most prudent approach for now seed to be enhancing the body’s immune chanisms.
Even the most effective drugs can only offer temporary solutions—it’s not like anyone has money falling into their lap endlessly to buy dicine as if it were food.
With technical support arriving from the Secretary Bureau, the first secret institution dedicated to addressing Temporal Tide issues was established within this tiline.
However, its initial personnel consisted of only three mbers.
ng Qing, Nong Zhu, and Huo Dali.
One was an officer from the Imperial New Army, another was an undercover operative for the Revolutionary Party masquerading as a businessman, and the last was purely a Jianghu martial artist.
As for Li Mingshen and his students, since they were entirely focused on academic research at the mont, they were temporarily excluded from recruitnt.
This unofficial and non-civilian secret organization’s headquarters was set up in a small Western-style building located at 28 Riverfront Road, which Yan Yu’an had leased.
Riverfront Road was part of the French Concession and had been one of Tiann City’s thriving comrcial districts for over a decade.
After the war ended, to alleviate tensions within Tiann City and stimulate the recessed economy, the French consul renad the street Peace Boulevard to attract dostic investnt.
Overall, it was an ideal location to remain hidden amidst bustling urban life—it could be remodeled into a comrcial shop, using legitimate business as a disguise.
As for how it might develop in the future, that would depend entirely on their efforts.
anwhile, news of the establishnt at “28” was communicated to the ears of certain individuals by so unknown channel.
“So what you’re saying is, they specifically created an organization to oppose us?
And you just happened to catch wind of this intelligence and miraculously escaped from their prison?”
Faced with intelligence provided by a subordinate who had lost one foot and was now disabled, Nakamura Ichiro’s first reaction was that they were taking him for a fool.
As the officer in charge of Huitian’s China Division, Nakamura Ichiro wasn’t particularly invested in his work here.
According to intelligence from the organization’s leader, this feudal dynasty could sustain itself for at least another twenty years before collapsing.
Even if they won the naval battle, the benefits gained would be minimal.
The real adversary was to the north.
Only by first resolving the military threat from Rakshasa Country could they have free rein to proceed with their plans.
Of course, even this objective was too distant for Huitian—it desperately needed to address its internal issues back ho first.
Huitian’s leader, Takahashi Shin, before crossing over to this tiline, was a submarine ship captain in the Sixth Fleet under the Fusang United Fleet, having fought the United States Fleet in the Pacific region for years.
His military expertise was indeed formidable, his eloquence unparalleled—in just a few years after traveling to this era, he had managed to gather a group of like-minded individuals with his silver tongue.
But he wasn’t without flaws—his political aptitude was virtually nonexistent, and he harbored extre resentnt toward the Imperial Army, frequently disparaging them as incompetent fools.
No one knew what might have triggered this sentint.
Saying his political skills were lacking wasn’t baseless—despite being the leader of a secret organization, he was a proponent of appeasent, rarely scheming for power or influence.
Instead, he spent his ti wooing Chinese overseas students with talk of East Asian prosperity or cozying up to rchants from the United States.
As a middle-ranking officer within the organization, Nakamura Ichiro, though he respected the leader’s charisma and admired the vision of a brighter future he described, couldn’t support his thods.
Let’s be honest—if you’re forming a secret society, why not indulge in so extremism to galvanize hearts and minds?
Perhaps the leader was indeed farsighted, unwilling to chase after fleeting gains, opting to lay low, accumulate ten or twenty years of resources, and deliver a stunning blow.
But for ordinary people, how many decades do they truly have?
It was precisely this ideological disagreent that led to Nakamura’s demotion from the central decision-making team, dispatched to Tiann to establish a branch—a stepdown disguised as a promotion.
Given the promising dostic landscape brimming with motivated reformists, being assigned here left him with only profit-making endeavors—hardly ideal for fulfilling personal ambitions.
Yet now things had taken a turn for the worse—Huitian hadn’t even achieved significant growth, yet its enemies were already circling hungrily.
Though Nakamura doubted the intelligence brought by his subordinate—it seed improbable for soone missing one leg to escape captivity—it looked more like the enemy deliberately let them go.
If this were indeed a trap set by the opposition, Nakamura himself might already be exposed… No, he was likely compromised from the mont his subordinate was captured.
Nakamura wasn’t a professional spy; prior to joining the organization, he had rely been a postal clerk near Takahashi’s residence and hadn’t undergone any specialist training.
Thus, he lacked the psychological preparedness to handle such urgent scenarios.
Normally, who would believe such gibberish about ti-travel anyway?
We Fusang people have been embracing modernization for decades—we’re naturally inclined towards innovative ideas; that is perfectly normal.
How can you possibly believe this?
Isn’t it absurd?
After much deliberation, he decided to send a telegram to headquarters, passing on the intelligence imdiately.
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