CHAPTER 175: INSIDE THE UNDERGROUND LABORATORY

In the cabin, Nora sat cross-legged on the bed, motionless, as if meditating. She had remained in that position since entering the cabin hours ago, without the slightest movement. She wore a black tracksuit, the hood pulled low to cast her face in shadow. Only her pale chin and thin lips were visible beneath the fold of fabric.

Upon hearing Robert’s knock and voice, she finally moved. She slid off the bed and adjusted her posture. Even in the island’s humid, sweltering air, she wore gloves and made no attempt to remove them. A pair of black running shoes covered her feet, silent with each step.

She opened the cabin door and descended the stairwell without a word. Robert followed closely behind, never daring to guide her... as he felt that she needed no directions.

As they reached the tunnel entrance, Robert finally spoke.

"Edward, this is Miss Nora. From now on, she has the final say here. Don’t waste time with pleasantries... she only cares about the work."

Edward gave a slight bow. "Understood. Welcome, Miss Nora."

Nora said nothing. She gave a small nod, which was barely perceptible.

All Edward could see was her unnaturally white chin and lips. The rest of her body was concealed... no skin exposed, not even her hands.

Robert looked around. "Seems the empty boxes were cleared already. I’ll take my leave then. Edward, see you next time."

With that, he turned and left the tunnel.

Outside, four of his subordinates were already waiting. Robert gave a single nod, and they immediately pushed the massive boulder back into place, sealing the tunnel entrance.

They gathered the remaining boxes and carried them back to the ship.

Shortly after, the deck rumbled with the vibration of the engines. The ship pulled away from the dock in silence and slowly vanished into the dark horizon.

Even after the ship had fully disappeared from sight, Ghay Moo waited another ten minutes before issuing the next command.

He turned on his radio. "Soldiers. Move to the dock."

Quietly, he and his men emerged from the jungle shadows and made their way to the now-empty dock. There, twenty large boxes waited for them.

They lit their torches and began opening the boxes one by one.

Five were filled with firearms. Three held ammunition. One was filled with grenades. The rest contained dried food and essential medicines.

His team counted and logged every item with care.

By the time they had finished their inventory, the first light was touching the horizon with a gentle stroke... like a painter brushing gold across a sleeping canvas. Over the quiet island, shadows retreated, giving way to shimmering hues... like a dream remembered.

Golden light bled softly into the jade canopy, each leaf catching the warmth like a secret held close. Along the sandy crescent of shoreline, gleaming specks emerged where moonlight once lingered... now replaced by a delicate fire dancing across the waves.

Coconut palms bowed as though in reverence. In the tidal shallows, the water turned to glass, mirroring the sky’s gentle blush... rose gold, powdered peach, and the faintest blue of waking clarity. The air shimmered, laced with the scent of salt and blooming champaca, while the hush of early birds swept low over still lagoons.

Ghay Moo looked longingly across the island. For a fleeting moment, it felt untouched by time... suspended in the grace of first light.

He pulled out his radio and began reporting the contents of the delivery to his superior.

***

Far away, in a KNLA outpost deep within the dense and humid jungles of eastern Myanmar, where rivers cut through hills like silent knives, and mist lingers long after dawn, his superior received the report with a wide smile.

This supply was desperately needed. They had recently lost ground, pushed back in several regions. These new weapons and medical supplies could hold the line for some time.

Their Karen National Liberation Army was not an army of conquest, but a force rooted in the soil it bled for. Its fighters were born under the weight of a promise: that the Karen people would one day live free, sovereign and unbroken.

From their scattered positions... hidden on mountain ridges, buried under forest canopies, tucked in ravines where no road could reach, the KNLA fights a war of survival and resistance. On official maps, their bases barely exist. But on the ground, they are lifelines: dugouts, bunkers, jungle tents, training fields, and watchposts. All guarded by men and women who have lived their entire lives breathing this wet jungle air, listening for the distant hum of helicopter rotors.

Across Myanmar, the land burns under the rule of the Tatmadaw, the military junta... armed with jet fighters, attack helicopters, and decades of brutal suppression. The KNLA knows the scent of ash from torched villages, the hollowed-out remains of schools turned to craters. Their enemy flies above them. Their defiance is met with fire.

The KNLA has no radar. No anti-aircraft guns. No missiles. Only the trees, caves, fog, and night.

Their strength lies not in machines... but in their bond with the terrain, their discipline, and their inherited pain. KNLA fighters move like ghosts through the green, laying ambushes, disabling bridges, vanishing before counterstrikes land. Some bases hold around fifty fighters. Others far fewer. But across the jungles, hills, and rivers... thousands are ready, hidden in plain sight.

Their outposts are simple. Bamboo huts on stilts, sandbagged perimeters, and radios powered by petrol generators. Watchtowers rise along the ridgelines, manned in silence, scanning the skies for any flash of movement. Their lines of communication are fragile but still active. Radio chatter connects them to allied units: the People’s Defence Forces, the Kachin Independence Army, and others who... for the first time in decades... have begun to share the burden of resistance.

But their most trusted allies are not the fellow fighters... they are the villagers. Whole families living in the forest, moving camp to camp, bringing food, medicine, and information. They are the hidden veins through which this rebellion breathes.

Their war is no longer just for independence. It is now a war for the foundation of a federal Myanmar, where the Karen and all other peoples of the hills and plains can speak their own languages, keep their ancestral lands, and never again be forced to bow at gunpoint before a central army. The vision has evolved: from secession to shared sovereignty. Not a breakaway, but a rebuilding.

Still, the KNLA was outgunned. Hope alone cannot win wars. That’s why this new batch of weapons felt like a gentle breeze stirring in the commander’s chest... a momentary relief, but not enough.

***

Far beneath Kadan Island, hidden deep within the mountain, Nora walked silently through the underground facility.

The space resembled a sprawling laboratory complex, alive with quiet urgency. Scientists moved between terminals, checking screens, adjusting equipment, working in silence or murmuring beneath their breath.

Nora had descended to this level via a crude lift, fashioned from industrial scaffolding and steel cabling. Now she moved like a phantom... her black, hooded tracksuit concealing every inch of her body. Gloves covered her hands. Her face remained hidden beneath the hood, revealing only the faint gleam of her pale lips and chin.

Sometimes, she paused to inspect a monitor. At other times, she simply observed the scientists at work. Her gaze lingered... intense but silent. No one dared speak to her.

After completing her sweep of the laboratory floor, she entered the server room. Here, she moved slowly, meticulously, inspecting each cooling unit, every blinking indicator light, every rack of data hardware.

When she had completed her circuit, she spoke for the first time:

"Subjects must be downstairs. Please lead the way."

Her voice was soft. Soothing. It drifted across the room like mist over water... impossibly calm, almost melodic.

Edward, who had been trailing her the entire time, suddenly froze. It was the first time he had heard her speak. Something about her voice unsettled him... not in volume or tone, but in its stillness. It was too smooth, too perfect.

He quickly regained his composure. "Y...Yes. This way, please."

He led her down the stairwell to the level below.

This floor was very different from the one above. It was one massive room, supported by thick concrete pillars. No partitions but a large room. Row after row of vertical cylinders, each one about the height of a man and filled with translucent green fluid, came into her view.

Nora followed silently.

She stepped toward the first cylinder and stared through the glass. A man floated inside... completely naked, suspended in the liquid. His head was encased in a metallic helmet, from which several thick tubes emerged, connected to a nearby machine. Other tubes ran into his spine. His limbs twitched slightly, as if reacting to something within the liquid... or far beyond it.

The machine beside him flickered with graphs, biometric readings, neural scan data, and cryptic error codes.

Nora stepped closer, opened the keyboard panel on the machine, and began typing a sequence of commands.

The man’s body jolted. Once. Twice. Spasms rippled down his limbs.

The monitor’s display flared with warnings... numbers spiking, colours shifting. The machine beeped violently.

Then... all fell into silence.

Nora stopped typing and stepped back. "Useless. Please discard this subject."

Her tone was flat. Either showing indifference to the body she probably just killed, or to all living beings.

She slowly walked toward the next cylinder.

Edward flinched. "Are you certain? These death row criminals were acquired by paying handsomely for each one. Every subject is a..."

"Useless," she repeated. "I have no use for that subject."

She began the same process. Typed a series of command strings. Watched the readings. Observed closely and then moved on.

Edward was relieved not to hear the same order.

She repeated the same process with the next subject and said, "Useless. Please discard this subject."