Chapter Twenty-Three: Parallel Space?

The conversation with Old Gun provided Gao Ning with quite a bit of information. Although he couldn't yet determine its truth, at least the situation was no longer a complete blank, and he had made some gains.

The two of them sat face to face for over half an hour, discussing the mysterious train at length. Seeing that Old Gun remained calm—indeed, his composure seemed only to deepen—Gao Ning, though briefly frustrated, eventually let it go. After all, he was still a newcomer, and there was little recourse when dealing with an old hand.

During their talk, Old Gun revealed that he was in the midst of his fourth mission. In other words, this task was mandatory—he had no choice but to complete it. He also mentioned that when he’d abducted Du Fulin earlier, he’d come into possession of a tuxedo; but with Haruko present, he couldn’t just claim it for himself, so he’d set it aside for the moment. When Gao Ning sent the soldier to search for it, as expected, they found not a single thread.

Old Gun chuckled with a flourish. “That woman is certainly no simple character! Well, I knew from the very start it wouldn’t be so smooth. I’ll have to find another way.”

“Your mission is also...?” Gao Ning prompted.

Old Gun nodded. “The tuxedo.”

Gao Ning said, “In that case, it seems I can’t let you go just yet.”

Old Gun paused, then laughed. “Do you think I intend to compete with you for the one in the plot?”

“Are there others?” Gao Ning asked, somewhat confused. He recalled that in the story, there were only two tuxedos: one rather high-end, and the other much more sensitive—so much so that anyone nearby who saw someone put a cigarette in their mouth would instantly produce a lighter to offer a light, no matter the distance. In the plot, it was precisely by exploiting this detail that Jackie Chan managed to defeat the villain, Banning.

“Of course not!” Old Gun shook his head. “Du Fulin is a senior agent with the CIA. After tonight’s commotion, do you think the CIA would remain ignorant? There’s certainly someone stationed at the mansion by now, and they may even have teams positioned around the area, ready to close the net at the slightest sign of trouble.”

Gao Ning nodded; the reasoning was sound. Especially with an intelligence agency like the CIA, which is perpetually on edge—not only wary of foreign spies but also the possibility of internal betrayal—they would only be more vigilant in the face of unexpected events.

“According to the original plan, after capturing Du Fulin, I was to reappear within an hour, disguised as someone who had suffered minor injuries and returned to the mansion, shaken but unharmed. There might have been some suspicion, but by the time their interrogators arrived, I’d have vanished with the tuxedo.” Old Gun shook his head. “Now, though, there’s simply no time.”

Gao Ning silently mourned for three seconds for Granny Liu and Liang Bing’s plan. Their side was already at a disadvantage, and they’d acted too late; by now, Du Fulin was barely recognizable. Their previous plan was now useless.

Fortunately, their mission wasn’t compulsory, so even if they failed, it was no great loss. Gao Ning pondered in silence for a moment.

After finishing his cigarette, Old Gun stubbed it out on the floor and rose to his feet. “Buddy, you’re certainly not an ordinary person. It’s the first time I’ve seen someone in their initial mission world able to leverage auxiliary powers. That’s truly impressive. What’s your name?”

Gao Ning hesitated for a moment. “Just call me Paratrooper.”

“Nice!” Old Gun exclaimed in admiration. “That’s right—the Mysterious Train is no simple matter. Every mission world it takes us to is fraught with infinite danger. And names are the most obvious weakness; who’s to say someone won’t exploit that? Caution is the key to survival!”

Gao Ning asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

“No particular reason—I just felt like it.” Old Gun slapped the dust off his pants and turned to go. “Though time is short, I did glean some useful information from Du Fulin. I should pay a visit to CIA headquarters, see if I can find their special equipment division—maybe I’ll turn up something.”

At the door, Old Gun looked back. “Care to cooperate?”

Gao Ning was cautious. “How?”

Old Gun pointed to the American soldiers nearby. “They’re quite the asset!”

“Fine. If you get concrete information, I’ll supply some firepower support,” Gao Ning agreed.

Old Gun grinned. “Straightforward—I like it! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your share.”

After a moment’s thought, Gao Ning pulled a new phone from his pocket and tossed it over. Old Gun caught it, looked at the single number saved in the contacts, and smiled.

He extended his right hand, as if plucking something from thin air. Gao Ning watched as Old Gun, in a pantomime, swept a brush over his face and body. Suddenly, a cloud of smoke burst from his figure, and he transformed—not into another man, but into a large wolfdog.

Gao Ning’s eyes widened. So it really was Gaia Foundation—it defied belief. As Old Gun completed his transformation, the red dot representing him on the Red Alert interface vanished entirely.

Gao Ning bowed his head slightly, masking his astonishment.

The black dog shook itself, glanced at its tail, and seemed quite pleased with its new form.

“Oh, right—almost forgot the most important thing!” The black dog suddenly spoke, startling Gao Ning. “You can still talk?”

“If I want to,” replied the black dog, fixing Gao Ning with its gaze. “Remember this well: don’t rigidly stick to the plot! Every mission world we cross into is a parallel space to the film’s story. That’s all I’ll say—I’m off!”

With those words, the black dog bolted, vanishing from sight, leaving Gao Ning standing there, dazed.

Parallel worlds?

A flood of fragmented memories washed through Gao Ning’s mind—from stopping Jackie Chan’s car at the start, to deploying American soldiers to surveil Du Fulin’s home, to the persistent lack of anomalies at the villain’s manor.

Gao Ning had found these things odd, but hadn’t dwelled on them, attributing them to the butterfly effect caused by their involvement. Never had he considered the possibility of parallel worlds.

But if that were so, the possibilities multiplied. The story might still be connected to this world, but the mastermind and the big boss could well have shifted. Old Gun was right—if these were parallel worlds, forcing the plot would only court disaster. At best, the storyline could serve as a reference.

Gao Ning rubbed his temples. Was completing a mission always this complicated now? Even traveling through movie realms offered no peace of mind.

At that moment, the sound of distant sirens reached him. It seemed that, after a brief communications blackout, the persistent Americans had found another way to call the police.

Fortunately, the business was done. Gao Ning gave the signal, and the American soldiers hefted the still-unconscious Jackie Chan and the bloodied Du Fulin, hustling them out the back door and swiftly vanishing down the street.

A minute later, police cars surrounded the villa.