Lashkar ul-Mujahidin's base was installed at the edge of Logar province, south of the capital of the country. Located in the eastern section of Afghanistan, Logar was but divided into 7 districts and several hundreds of villages. Roughly an hour-long drive from Kabul.

Even though the organization did not have as much influence or power in Afghanistan, Lashkar ul-Mujahidin* had still managed to take control of a handful of towns therein, an atmosphere of dread and fright wherever they branched. Explosives' manufacturing, recruiting and training young lads, selling and buying women like goods; every severe crime in the world was being carried around here, out in the open, that is. As if it was natural. Normal, even.

As Rong Xinghe drove inside the relatively huge village known as Rakhatal*, she felt a sweltering gust of sand hit her face, the windows to her Black humvee wound down. Pashto and Dari were two of Afghanistan's official languages. Rong Xinghe was familiar with only Dari but, the Afghan dialect of Persian. Anyhow, communication wasn't going to be an issue for her there.

"It means 'grow' in Pashto.", the man next to her said after some time, "Rakhatal." He was wearing clothes similar to the ones Rong Xinghe had put on. An all-Black Kurta, trousers, and Hamtar turban. The standard uniform for the senior 'fighters' of the organization.

It was opposite of growth, Rong Xinghe thought, as the vehicle reached a cautiously fortified, but poorly maintained check post. The place seemed lifeless. Desperation and hope in the villagers' gazes as they looked at her, followed by a sense of deep disappointment when they noticed her clothes.

"He's one of them.", she heard one of the boys say to his mother, in Persian, "Ask sisters to not go out for the next few days.", he mumbled, weakly.

Right. She was the bad guy here. Kefayat Zahir. And a high-ranking one at that.

"ID.", one of the men at the check post approached the humvee, peeking in. "Janaab!", he saluted to the man next to Rong Xinghe, the laziness in his voice subsiding gradually.

The woman remained quiet, as she picked up the card upon the dashboard and passed it to the security officer. "UFLT*...", the man appeared stunned, as he looked at the man in Black, shocked.

United Front Liberation Troops, aka, UFLT, was their Commander's teacher's institution. And even though there'd been rumors that the man had been killed two years ago in an anonymous attack, Fadhil believed otherwise. So if this man in front of them was indeed appointed by UFLT, didn't it mean that it was still but an active organization, managed and guided by a man they'd long considered dead?

"Yes.", the man next to the woman looked at the soldier, "Zahir, here is the Deputy Leader in Iran for UFLT. Commander's master has sent him for a regular inspection. He'll be staying for a few weeks, so don't bother with the identity check with him. Alright?"

"Understood.", the man bowed down to Kefayat stiffly.

"Whatever he needs, give it to him. We've informed the Commander too, of course. But until he visits Rakhatal next, treat the Deputy with your utmost hospitality. Disrespect to him would definitely, have consequences.", the man in his forties added next, his tone serious.

"Yes, Sir.", the security officer nodded nervously. Just the mention of Fadhil's name was enough a nightmare for them.

_______________________

Military Chief Office;

City A, Country X, 20:00;

Xi Yuan emerged from Rong Xinghe's office as Xi Fang and Shou Wu waited for him outside. Apparelled into a standard Country X Army uniform, one could hardly tell him from the professional ones there. His gaze authoritative, his presence justly domineering; as if it all came naturally to him. The Military environment.

Xi Fang was stunned, of course, by how much the clothing suited his brother. Though, none as surprised as the soldiers around still, for they could feel a familiarity in how the man carried himself. Ah, Military Chief, Shou Wu mumbled to himself internally. His aura, and his composure. Everything about this man was but a reminder to him of Rong Xinghe.

"We're immensely apologetic for the lack of preparation, Sir.", the woman's assistant cleared his throat, glancing at the tablet in his hands, "And if I may say, on behalf of everyone here, congratulations on the wedding."

"Thank you.", the man managed, inhaling a deep breath.

"Military Chief called me minutes before leaving for Afghanistan.", Shou Wu nodded, turning to exit the waiting room, the two men following behind him shortly after, "The fingerprints are still under examination in the forensics lab. Though, we'd have the results within 15 minutes. So let us head there first.

"As for the status of the investigation up until now, we're still on it. Lieutenant Zhao is having a look at the surveillance history for Castle Tryst, stretching it to the 17th of February. A week before your wedding. He'll ping us as soon as he finds anything suspicious in there.

"Madam has issued an order of 'Libertad de Significado' for you, Mr. Xi. So until she returns, you have the entire nation's Military at your disposal for the matter, including the national intelligence agency."

The moment Shou Wu's words reached his ears, Xi Yuan's hurried footsteps slowed down a tad.

"Libertad de Significado?", Xi Fang looked at the old man, confused.

"Liberty of Significance.", Xi Yuan answered instead, his voice low as if he was speaking to himself, "It's an honor only the Military Chiefs of Country X can provide to its citizens, during their work tenure. The right to use the country's military strength, so to investigate a case of critical importance."

Shou Wu turned around, quite astonished by the man's knowledge on the topic. But then again, Xi Yuan was no stranger to Military terminologies, for he'd once been one of them too. It was a shame, the old man sighed, that he'd had to blend amongst the civilians, while the fact that he belonged there, among the servicemen, remained.

It was just then that the phone in Shou Wu's pocket rang up. He picked it up at the fourth ring, his tone somber, "Do we have a name?", he asked. "Yeah, alright. Send the reports over to Chief's cabin.", he demanded next, hanging up.

"What is it?", Xi Yuan questioned, sensing the man's plight.

"She was right, Sir.", Shou Wu cleared his throat, turning to look at the man, "The fingerprints on the gun do belong to her."