"My code name's Ghost Leopard. I'll be your training officer for the next three months, and you'll remember that name for the rest of your lives!"

"This is Zone 51. Here, you all have just one name—Rookies!"

Somewhere in the South Pacific, on a tropical island.

Under the blazing sun, a young woman in camo gear stood before a group of massive guys, all nearly six-foot-three and dressed in matching uniforms. She held a shiny black whip, her uniform not hiding the slender shape of her waist, her belt accentuating a figure that looked almost delicate. Her face was streaked with camo paint, but her sharp features still peeked through.

"Report, instructor!"

"Speak!"

A local soldier, struggling with his English, said to the girl, "We can't understand what you're saying. Please speak in the local language!"

Juliet Black couldn't help but laugh out loud. With a sly look in her eyes, she motioned for the rookie to come closer.

"Come over here," she said, curling her finger at him.

The rookie, still confused, took a big step forward.

"Instructor, though it's Death God International Mercenary Training Base, we're all local guys. Please use the local language!"

As soon as he finished, Juliet whipped out her whip, swinging it straight toward him. He was quick, dodging just in time, but he didn't expect her follow-up—a kick that sent him flying into the dirt, stirring up a cloud of dust. She walked over, pressing her heavy black boot squarely against his chest.

"Didn't understand me, huh?"

"You…"

"Out here, no one's going to reason with you. There's no law, no rights—only strength matters!"

Juliet scanned the crowd.

"And because my fists are stronger than yours, I suggest that each of you use your off-time to pick up some English, so you won't end up dead just because you didn't understand what I said."

With that, she kicked the rookie aside, smirking lazily.

"Now, you. Translate what I just said into your 'local language.'" Her tone was dripping with sarcasm.

A bunch of rookies, a bunch of weaklings! And they dared to think they deserved her speaking their language? She knew exactly what this was about—these guys were top soldiers, trained in multiple languages, just looking for an excuse to challenge her.

The rookie clutched his cracked ribs and struggled to his feet, painfully translating her words. The rest looked spooked, none daring to speak again.

The base's mortality rate allowed for up to twenty-five percent. That meant out of the forty of them, she could shoot ten of them at random, and it'd still be considered within acceptable limits. As long as they wanted to live, none of them would dare mess with her.

Juliet glanced at their faces and felt satisfied. She leaned back on a lounge chair, a large umbrella shading her.

"Now, let's start your first lesson: sunbathing! I love the equatorial sun, and I'm sure you'll feel Zone 51's burning passion too…"

Before she finished, a shrill alarm blared. Juliet's expression shifted immediately. Forgetting the forty rookies in front of her, she sprang up.

"Stay put! No one moves!" And with that, she took off toward the base headquarters.

The base held a treasure trove of top-secret files, and though someone tried to break in nearly every month, no one had ever tripped the base's alarms.

The intruder this time had to be an expert!

Before Juliet even reached headquarters, she saw a figure drop down from the three-meter-high concrete wall surrounding it. The person was a man, judging by his build, dressed in all-black casual wear, with a mask and hat hiding his face.

The base's snipers fired a few shots, but every single one missed. Some instructors tried to intercept him, but he turned and shot two of them down effortlessly.

"Useless! Give me the rifle!" Juliet's face darkened as she kicked over the sniper behind the cover at the entrance, taking up his position herself. She lay low behind the barrier, squinting as she measured the right moment to shoot.

But the man seemed to sense her presence; he turned and glanced in her direction.

Through the scope, Juliet saw his eyes—a pair of extremely beautiful and cold amber eyes.

At that moment, she pulled the trigger. With a dull bang, blood bloomed across his back, and the impact of the bullet shoved him off the cliff's edge, where he fell into the sea below.

Juliet finally exhaled in relief and turned to the instructor beside her.

"Go. Bring him back."

She wanted to see just who this guy was—someone bold enough and skilled enough to break into the base!

******

Half an hour later, in the Zone 51 Chief Instructor's Office at HQ.

A few instructors entered, looking anxious.

"Miss Juliet, we… didn't find him."

"What?" Juliet frowned and set down the shell casing she'd been fidgeting with.

It was from a dum-dum round, the tip completely shattered. With a hit like that, if he wasn't killed outright, he should've at least been immobilized on the spot. How could they not find him?

One of the instructors spoke up, head down. "He must have had someone waiting to pick him up."

Juliet took a deep breath, trying to rein in her frustration. She knew it—anyone skilled enough to infiltrate HQ would've come well-prepared.

"What did he take?" She knew the intruder had probably already grabbed what he came for before escaping.

"It was the SSS-level AN140911 file."

HQ's files were coded by location and date: A for Country A, and N for City N, followed by the year, month, and day. The file was about the 911 bombing case!

Juliet's eyes narrowed, a fierce gleam in them. She had to get that file back before they managed to crack its encryption.

"Ghost Tiger's back tomorrow. Have him take over those rookies in Zone 51. I'm heading to Country A."

"Country A?" The instructor gaped at her, stunned.

Everyone knew Country A was off-limits to international mercenaries and agents. Even the best fighters couldn't stand up to its strict enforcement.

Just two years ago, Ghost Tiger, the 19th Zone's head and a top-five assassin globally, had been detained there for two weeks—just for a DUI.

"What are you thinking?" Juliet's expression had softened by now. She pulled an old driver's license out of her drawer. Four years validity—still had six months left.

She gave a little snort.

"I'm a lawful citizen, flying in on a commercial flight. Problem with that?"

Instructor: "Uh… no problem at all."

Juliet leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slowly, as if she were recalling memories buried long ago.

"Besides," she murmured, "I have a few relatives over in Country A…"