Chapter 1076: Full Disclosure? (Patreon)

The U.S. military sealed off the exploded factory. Soldiers in hazmat suits from the chemical warfare division moved in and out of the ruins, even ordering the Korean fire brigade to stand down and vacate the premises.

The local Korean officers and the brass who arrived on scene all wore the same expression: confused and completely out of the loop, eyes full of questions but too afraid to ask.

Compared to the last time Jack had operated in Korea—where he was constantly hamstrung—his growing ties to the military now allowed him to act with far more impunity.

While "one call summons ten thousand troops" only existed in fantasy novels, once Jack reported the situation to Rossi, a secure liaison number was quickly sent to his phone.

So when he saw the explosion en route to the site, he immediately made the call, reporting a suspected nerve agent manufacturing site had just gone up in flames.

Less than twenty minutes later, the military had taken over.

After speaking briefly with a U.S. Army colonel, Jack returned to the group, his face unreadable.

“The good news is,” he said, “no traces of deployed nerve agents were detected at the scene.”

“Just tell us the bad news,” Ma Xidao muttered, already bracing himself.

“The bad news,” Jack continued, “is that multiple precursor chemicals consistent with VX nerve agent were found. Fortunately, Zhang Mingjun used explosives instead of dousing the area in gasoline and lighting it—most of the containers and equipment were damaged, not vaporized.”

Kang Jintae’s face went pale. He started pacing in circles, nearly tripping over himself. “So what do we do now? This VX stuff—how dangerous is it? Should I have my family move to the countryside or something?”

Jack opened the Suburban’s door, took out a box of atropine injectors and oxime kits, and handed them over, along with usage instructions. At least that settled the man down.

“FBI has dispatched a chemical weapons expert. He’ll arrive tomorrow morning to assess the site and tell us how close Zhang was to producing weapon-grade nerve agents.

On the bright side, now that we’ve confirmed this was one of his chemical labs, he’s been forced to relocate. Rebuilding a lab this specialized isn’t something you do overnight. We’ve still got time.”

VX was terrifying, yes—but it wasn’t without its “merits.” Compared to gases like chlorine or phosgene, VX could be countered if the antidote was administered quickly. There were rarely lingering physiological effects—it was binary: you lived or you died.

Of course, such a cold statement was hardly comforting. But thankfully, there was someone with an even thicker skin than Jack in the group.

“Well, if we’re not going to die tonight, how about we go grab some barbecue and a drink?” Ma Xidao suggested, patting his hefty stomach. “Might as well say what needs to be said.”

They had barely finished their hot pot dinner before being interrupted, and since arriving in Yongin, they’d been on their feet the whole time. Dawn was barely two hours away.

Sure, the shift from nerve agent threat to grilled pork belly felt abrupt—but once Ma said it, everyone realized just how hungry they were.

Besides, with so many eyes and ears around the blast site, this wasn’t the place for honest conversation. Other than Ma and Kang, Jack hadn’t revealed the full nerve agent angle to Korean authorities yet.

By chance or fate, Jack’s ride had just been swapped from a sedan to a full-sized SUV—plenty of room for everyone.

An hour later, the group of five sat at a roadside barbecue stall in Gangnam, under the glow of flickering overhead lights.

Fatty slices of pork belly sizzled on the iron grill. Kang cracked open a bottle of Chinese baijiu Jack had pulled from the trunk, pouring out shots with gleeful reverence.

“Damn. I’ve never had Chinese liquor this good before,” he said. “Here’s one to disinfect the soul.”

Even Anna, who’d barely said a word all night, lifted her glass and downed it in one shot.

“Zheling, listen carefully,” Kang began, setting his empty cup down. He noticed his voice had risen and quickly lowered it.

At this hour, the street was empty. The restaurant owner had long since disappeared inside to nap. No risk of being overheard.

In fact, the open air was safer than any closed room—the hum of the overhead extractor fans and the rush of cars from a nearby overpass drowned out everything else.

“We’re all here for the same reason—to stop a catastrophe. No arguments there, right?”

Lin Zheling set his cup down, raising a hand to stop Kang from continuing.

“Hyung, I get it—you want full disclosure. But before that, can we ask the dishonest FBI agent across from me to explain his intentions first?”

Jack hadn’t expected Lin to trust him, but this attitude still irritated him.

“People died,” he said coldly. “And you’re still pissed I pretended not to understand you that day?

My friend’s leg still isn’t healed. You think I came here for a vacation?”

It wasn’t quite a rebuke—but it hit hard enough.

Lin fell silent. After a long pause, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a photo, and tossed it on the table.

“What’s this?” Kang picked it up. The photo showed Lin and Zhang Mingjun in military uniform, shoulder to shoulder. The edges were yellowing—clearly taken years ago.

“He used to be my comrade. But not anymore.”

Lin explained this to Kang, then turned to Jack.

“Zhang Mingjun is a bastard who deserves to die—but he was one of us. For all those innocent victims, I truly apologize.”

Jack waved dismissively. “Save it. I figured out his identity long ago.”

“Then you also know he went rogue over three years ago.”

Lin hesitated, then spoke anyway.

Jack smirked. Lin’s tone was finally honest. He let some of the vagueness slide—at least for now.

From what Lin did reveal, one thing became clear: Zhang Mingjun had a deep, personal grudge against someone attending the upcoming North-South summit.

And ironically, that very official was also the one who had sent Lin on this mission.