Republic of China: Ace Pilot

Chapter 849 Truth or Falsehood Difficult to Distinguish: Fang Wen Suspected of Being a Male Witch

Fang Wen sat down, and the atmosphere around him suddenly became tense.

Two burly men at the next table, who seemed to be casually drinking, stood up almost simultaneously. One of them strode over to the side of the man whose face was hidden by the brim of his hat, and stared sharply at Fang Wen.

They seem ready to make a move at any moment.

The man at the table looked up.

The light fell on his face, but it wasn't the same profile Fang Wen had seen at the Air Force Command.

He had a full beard on his face, which perfectly covered Stalin's iconic mustache, and his cheeks were also subtly modified in terms of skin tone and contour.

Such disguises were common among high-ranking Soviet officers, who blended in seamlessly with bar patrons.

If it weren't for that unique, specially made tobacco scent, and if Fang Wen weren't a master of disguise, no one else would have been able to associate the person before them with the Supreme Commander of the Soviet Union.

"We meet again," Fang Wen said first.

A hint of surprise flashed in the man's eyes as he carefully examined Fang Wen's Eastern face: "Have we met before?"

Fang Wen felt a strange sensation; it was as if the other person was seeing him for the first time.

I have no disguise and an easily recognizable Asian face, so why does this Stalin double seem to have forgotten me?

With his mind racing, another possibility suddenly came to mind.

The tobacco that the body double was smoking at the time was probably the same tobacco that Stalin was smoking, so that he could perfectly disguise himself.

If that's the case, it's not just the body double who carries the same tobacco smell, but also Stalin himself.

He quickly glanced at the other person, and his judgment became even more certain.

Over the years, he has met many important figures. Although they all have different temperaments, they all have the aura of a superior, an aura that no substitute can replicate.

This can also be seen from the reactions of the two bodyguards.

After making this judgment, Fang Wen did not show it. In fact, it would be better to see the real Stalin now.

He said, "At the Air Force Command, we talked for a long time about the problems of the Soviet Air Force and about the cooperation in building a factory for Taishan radio equipment."

Upon hearing this, the surprise in the man's eyes faded, replaced by a cryptic smile: "Yes, I remember now. I didn't expect to meet you here. How did you get out of the controlled factory area and end up here?"

"I've heard that the vodka at this old shop in Moscow is rich and strong. I finally had some free time, so I borrowed a friend's car and wanted to come and try it," Fang Wen casually replied, making up an excuse.

“It’s definitely worth a try.” The man nodded slightly, then raised his hand, signaling the plainclothes bodyguards on both sides to step back.

The two bodyguards obeyed immediately and returned to their positions, but their eyes remained fixed on Fang Wen.

The man, who resembled Stalin, summoned a waiter and whispered a few instructions.

Before long, a large glass of strong vodka was served, its aroma intense and pungent.

A man resembling Stalin spoke up: "I'll buy you a drink, and you tell me how you knew I was here."

Fang Wen racked his brains, trying to figure out how to answer.

That's not a good question!

Just then, on the other side of the bar, a young captain in military uniform suddenly stood up, raised his glass, and sang "The Sacred War," a song that had recently become popular throughout the city, in a loud and clear voice.

The powerful and tragic Russian lyrics, without any accompaniment, possess a heart-stirring power.

This battle song, which was created less than half a month ago, has already spread to every corner of Moscow. Everyone can hum it, from factory assembly lines to military barracks to street alleys.

As the song began, all the guests in the bar stood up at the same time. Whether they were officers, cadres, or ordinary citizens, they all raised their glasses and sang along.

The bar was filled with singing.

Fang Wen often heard the workers singing in the military factory, and he was already familiar with the lyrics and melody. He immediately got up and sang along with everyone.

Singing in the same Russian style, steady and powerful, she was in no way inferior to the Soviets present.

When the song ended, everyone took their seats, and the bar returned to its noisy, conversational atmosphere.

The man at the table, however, never sang along. He simply sat quietly, his gaze fixed intently on Fang Wen, filled with scrutiny and inquiry.

"How do you know this song?" he asked.

"Spending my days in the military factory with the workers and technicians, listening to them sing every day, I naturally learned it," Fang Wen answered frankly, then picked up the vodka on the table, looked at the other person, and said, "Cheers to victory."

This simple toast caused the air to freeze instantly.

A glint flashed in the man's eyes, but he did not immediately raise his glass. The two bodyguards beside him stood up again.

After a brief silence, the man raised his glass, the glass gently clinking against Fang Wen's glass, producing a crisp sound.

"Cheers to victory!"

The two bodyguards then sat down.

Fang Wen tilted his head back and drank a large gulp of strong liquor. The scalding liquid slid down his throat and into his stomach, burning his chest.

Under the influence of alcohol, he figured out how to answer.

"I'll tell you why I knew you were here, because I have special abilities."

The man, who resembled Stalin, seemed unsurprised by Fang Wen's answer, his gaze probing: "There are many rumors circulating about you outside, and our intelligence department has gathered similar descriptions in its intelligence gathering. But I am a materialist and do not believe these things unless you can confirm them for me."

Fang Wen met his gaze calmly, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Many things cannot be believed without experiencing them firsthand. As you wish, I can prove it to you right here and now."

The man nodded slightly and said with interest, "You can give it a try."

Fang Wen quietly infused energy into the Mayan gemstone around his neck.

An invisible, special energy fluctuation quietly spread, silently enveloping the entire tabletop and extending to the surrounding ground and wall cracks.

The Mayan gem requires a preparation time to activate its ability to control insects, allowing the insects to come to its vicinity.

During this break, he began to tell an adventure story:

"I've been on countless adventures, one of which took place in the uninhabited waters of the South Pacific. I was on an expedition with several wealthy Americans, searching for a ghost ship legend that had been passed down among sailors for centuries..."

Bars are places for casual conversation and reminiscing, but Fang Wen's story of an exotic adventure in Russian instantly captivated everyone's attention.

The noisy conversation gradually subsided, and all the guests turned their heads to listen intently.

A mysterious ghost ship appears out of nowhere amidst the mist; we must unravel the layers of clues to uncover the secret truth.

The story eventually reveals the true origin of this ghost ship: it was actually an ancient Caribbean pirate ship that drifted across the ocean to the Pacific Ocean.

The bizarre encounters, thrilling details, and mysterious past captivated everyone present.

Until the very end of the story, Fang Wen recounts how the group set fire to the giant rat swarm that had overrun the ship, ending the legend of the ghost ship on the deserted island, and this thrilling adventure finally came to a close.

The guests, still looking on with lingering enjoyment, offered a few words of praise before returning to their own topics, treating it merely as an amusing pastime and not taking the bizarre details of the story seriously.

The man, who resembled Stalin, stared at Fang Wen with sharp, penetrating eyes that seemed to see right through him: "They just treat it as a story. But I can tell that what you're saying is true. Yet, this still doesn't prove your ability, nor does it explain why you found me."

Fang Wen nodded frankly: "You're right. According to the Eastern concept of cause and effect, the story is just the cause, and I am the effect. During that adventure, I unexpectedly gained the special perception ability of an ancient Mayan priest. I was able to find you because of this special ability."

As soon as he finished speaking, he activated the gem's energy once more.

Countless tiny insects crawled up the table leg, densely packed yet orderly.

Under Fang Wen's mental control, the insects swarmed onto the table, quickly gathered and arranged themselves into a neat and square black insect swarm formation.

The man resembling Stalin's pupils contracted slightly, and a look of seriousness appeared on his face, which was hidden by his beard. The two bodyguards also saw him; their expressions changed drastically, and they strode forward, their bodies tense, and shouted sharply, "He's a sorcerer!"

Male wizards are mysterious and legendary figures from Slavic mythology.

"Step back," the man commanded. "At least, you're one of our male witches."

Although the two bodyguards were on high alert, they still obeyed orders to retreat, their eyes fixed on the swarm of insects on the table, not daring to relax their vigilance for a moment.

"Would you like me to continue the demonstration?" Fang Wen asked softly.

Seeing the man nod, Fang Wen lightly flicked his fingertips, his mind stirring slightly.

The orderly swarm of insects on the table instantly changed shape, sometimes coalescing into a long, thin line, sometimes scattering into a circle, and even working together to gently move the wine glasses and matchboxes on the table.

Their movements are precise and skillful, completely overturning human understanding of insects.

A few seconds later, Fang Wen waved.

All the insects scattered instantly, disappearing into the dark crevices without a trace, as if the spectacle Fang Wen had just created had never happened.

Fang Wen explained calmly, "This is just a part of my ability. With this special ability, finding people is not difficult for me."

The man, who resembled Stalin, remained silent for a moment, gave Fang Wen a deep look, and suddenly asked, "The intelligence I've read records that the items you left in America possess miraculous powers to cure intractable diseases. Is that true?"

“It’s not a cure,” Fang Wen answered truthfully. “It can only temporarily delay the onset of symptoms. Once the effect wears off, the symptoms will return. Besides, those items have already been pledged to me, and I cannot use them for the time being.”

"But their ownership remains with you." The man cut to the chase, then changed the subject, getting straight to the point, "Tell me, why did you risk coming out to see me in the middle of the night?"

The time is ripe.

Fang Wen no longer concealed anything and recounted all his experiences in detail.

All his words were simply stating the most truthful situation: he was merely a military-industrial technical cooperation personnel, with no connection whatsoever to the current internal problems of the Soviet Union, and should not be unjustly restricted in his freedom or detained in the Soviet Union.

The man listened quietly throughout, his expression remaining calm and unchanging, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.

After Fang Wen finished speaking, he said, "I understand. Go back and wait patiently. Tomorrow, all the issues will be resolved."

Fang Wen said no more, stood up, bowed, and turned to leave the bar.

Stepping out of the bar, a cool summer night breeze greeted him, but Fang Wen remained vigilant, using his supernatural abilities to investigate the ongoing activities inside the bar.

The perspective cuts through the walls, clearly capturing the scene inside the house.

The bearded man got up and, escorted by two bodyguards, left through a hidden back door of the bar.

At the back door, a group of plainclothes officers were waiting to protect him as he walked through the alleyway into Red Square.

The group crossed Red Square without being stopped and headed towards the Kremlin on the opposite side.

Therefore, that person must be Stalin himself.

Fang Wen breathed a sigh of relief, walked quickly to the parking area, opened the car door, and got in.

The engine roared, the car turned around, and drove into the night.

10pm late at night.

Fang Wen returned after being away for more than two hours.

He put on Ivan's military uniform as he was about to arrive at the factory.

When the car arrived at the factory gate, he raised his pass, but the guards still didn't come closer to check it; they simply waved for him to open the gate.

The gate opened, and Fang Wen drove his car into the factory area.

He parked the car in its original spot, then took off his military uniform, folded it into a bundle, and held it in his hand.

Then I got out of the car and went upstairs.

The two soldiers upstairs heard footsteps, looked over, and were surprised to see Fang Wen.

"You, weren't you inside?"

"Yes. I went out for a bit just now, did you guys forget?" Fang Wen said with a smile.

With that, he opened the door and went inside, leaving the two soldiers completely bewildered.

Upon entering the room, Fang Wen quickly went to the bedside to check on Ivan's condition.

I think I hit him a little too hard; Ivan still hasn't woken up.

He recalled the techniques Gong Xiuneng had taught him and massaged the corresponding acupoints.

After a while, a soft gasp came from the bed; Ivan had woken up.

Ivan opened his eyes, somewhat dazed: "What's wrong with me? My head is so dizzy."

"I'm sorry, I knocked you out and pretended to be you when I went out," Fang Wen replied truthfully.

Ivan quickly sat up and looked down to find that his uniform was not on him.

“I didn’t get it dirty here.” Fang Wen handed over the uniform.

Ivan didn't know what to say, so he took the clothes and put them on.

After he got dressed, his mood calmed down considerably: "What did you go out to do?"

Fang Wen couldn't say what happened afterward, as it wouldn't benefit Ivan.

He made up a story on the spot: "I went to a bar in the city, had some drinks, told a story, and then did a magic trick before coming back."

"that's it?"

Although Ivan didn't believe it, he knew he wouldn't get any information out of him. Seeing that it was getting late, he hurriedly left.

The guards outside were still wondering what was going on.

When the door opened and Ivan came out, he felt as if the sky had fallen.

The two were discussing in hushed tones:

"Do you remember that Colonel Ivan left two hours ago?"

"It seems so, but it also seems not."

"And what about Mr. Fang?"

"I don't know, it seems like he went out, but it also seems like he didn't."

"God, what's wrong with us?"

"Maybe it's just a dream, and I'll be fine when I wake up."

Fang Wen smiled upon hearing the words of the two soldiers outside the door.

Whether I can return to China smoothly depends on tomorrow.

He changed the sheets and duvet cover, which still smelled of Ivan, and went to bed to rest. (End of Chapter)