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"This... this can't be possible!"
Nick Fury muttered the words under his breath, the statement feeling hollow even to his own ears.
Sometimes, the truth is deceptively simple.
With just a single clue, the entire picture can become terrifyingly clear.
In the past, Fury had encountered incidents that raised his suspicions, but he had never connected them to HYDRA.
Now, after this "righteous betrayal" by the Ten Rings, so many of the lingering questions in his mind suddenly had answers.
The only remaining question was whether he was willing to believe them.
"Director, the Ten Rings have ceased their attack. What are your orders?"
An agent's voice cut through his thoughts.
Fury's face remained an impassive mask, betraying none of his inner turmoil.
"Proceed as planned. Call in support from the Army. Maintain full defensive posture against the Ten Rings in case they decide to double back!"
Who knows how many of the people here are actually HYDRA moles?
Fury didn't dare to dwell on it.
If that organization had truly risen from its ashes...
Or perhaps it had never been truly eradicated at all, merely forced underground by relentless pressure, waiting in the shadows.
Then all of this was not just possible, it was inevitable.
Fury couldn't even begin to guess the extent of the infiltration, not just within S.H.I.E.L.D., but across countless other agencies and departments.
The defense schematics of the naval yard had been completely compromised. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal weaknesses had been laid bare.
Fury's gaze swept covertly across the agents in the command center.
Most wore their usual professional expressions, but many were pale, clearly shaken by the recent intelligence.
So...
How many of them could he still trust?
Fury's expression was grim, his confidence shaken to its core.
...
A figure was being dragged forward, his limbs restrained by several burly men.
But even being manhandled by these brutes was nothing compared to the sheer, soul-crushing despair he felt upon seeing the man who stood before him now.
The Mandarin approached, a deceptively kindly smile on his face.
He reached out, one hand roughly grabbing a fistful of the prisoner's hair.
"I told you when you fled," the Mandarin's voice was almost conversational. "There is no escape."
"It took a little longer than I expected, but you have finally been returned to me! So, Xu Shang-Chi... do you have any last words?"
"There are no traitors beside me now. You could try telling a joke to amuse me—though, honestly, what could bring me more joy than seeing you right here, right now?"
The young man, his hair tied in a small artist's ponytail, trembled violently, consumed by terror.
"Father! I was deceived! I was tricked by their lies into doing what I did! Father, I had already realized my mistake! I tried to escape and return to you, but they locked me away! I couldn't get back to you! Thank you! Thank you for saving me, Father!"
Shang-Chi's desperate explanations and sobs created a bizarre, tense atmosphere. A wave of suppressed, nervous amusement seemed to ripple through the onlookers.
A tall, gaunt figure slithered closer, a vicious smile playing on his lips.
"Shang-Chi, my dear nephew," the man's voice was a sibilant whisper. "You are as silver-tongued as ever."
This was the Ten Rings' second-in-command, a man known as The Serpent. Two highly venomous cobras coiled around his arms, their cold, vertical pupils fixed on Shang-Chi, tongues flickering with ominous hisses.
With a single command from their master, they would inject their lethal venom into Shang-Chi's veins.
The Serpent's public ability was serpent control, but his true power was a full serpentine transformation. It might sound like a weak power, but the fact that he outranked Sandman, forcing him to be third-in-command, was a testament to his formidable strength.
"Second Brother, no need to frighten him," the Mandarin chided lightly. "It would be a shame if he broke before the fun has even begun."
The Serpent nodded. He then glanced around and leaned in close to the Mandarin, whispering, "Boss, revealing HYDRA's involvement... wasn't that too blatant? If they come for us, and S.H.I.E.L.D. also causes trouble, our position could become... precarious."
The Mandarin showed no fear. "You think I fear them? Let them come! I will remind them that I did not build my empire to its current height through mere ambushes and skirmishes!"
He rubbed the rings adorning his fingers, a cold sneer on his face.
After quickly assessing the situation, the Mandarin laid out his plan.
"Withdraw from S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately, according to the plan I devised earlier. Ensure we leave no loose ends for them to follow. As for Shang-Chi..."
The Mandarin reached out again, his hand gently cupping the young man's face with a twisted parody of affection.
"Shang-Chi, my son... you must strive to live. You must struggle with all your might to survive! It would be such a pity if I were to accidentally kill you too quickly. You need to... help me work out these old frustrations of mine."
"AAAAHHHH!!! IT HURTS!!!"
A blood-curdling scream tore from Shang-Chi's throat.
As the Mandarin withdrew his hand, he tore away half the skin and flesh from Shang-Chi's face in one brutal motion.
The Mandarin closed his eyes, savoring the agonized cries. "Exquisite," he murmured with deep satisfaction. "Such a delightful sound. It invigorates the very soul."
His subordinates kept their heads bowed, not daring to make a sound and interrupt their leader's macabre enjoyment.
The retreat commenced. With the attack on S.H.I.E.L.D. halted, the focus shifted to their escape route and shaking off any potential pursuit.
Following the Mandarin's orders, the Ten Rings members withdrew swiftly and in an organized manner, vanishing from the S.H.I.E.L.D. battlefield.
Before leaving, they had meticulously destroyed all surrounding S.H.I.E.L.D. and naval yard infrastructure and monitoring equipment.
Consequently, in the immediate aftermath of their retreat, Nick Fury had no way of determining which direction the Ten Rings had taken.
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