Volume One, Chapter Thirty-One: The Path of Learning (Part One)

Within this prison, the psychology instructor was a burly woman. She swaggered into the classroom, a toothpick clamped between her lips, and addressed the forty-four innocent faces before her with a blank expression: “In this lesson, we will learn how to fear. Fear has its own patterns, but each person’s pattern is unique, stemming from their experiences and history. If you do not understand fear, you will not last long in this line of work. Only by learning to fear can we learn to overcome it, for failing to do so means death will come even sooner.”

The rhetoric instructor said, “Diplomacy is never about outright confrontation. Sometimes, it serves as a buffer for resolving conflicts between governments. Therefore, you must never speak in absolutes; when news reaches the media, always leave room for maneuver in the future.”

For example:

“To have a frank exchange of views” seems uneventful to the uninitiated, but it may actually conceal a fierce dispute.

“To reach a consensus on matters of mutual concern” indicates that both sides have struck a deal.

“To further exchange opinions” means a debate has been temporarily set aside.

“Negotiation is a skill, but it requires wisdom above all. Every negotiation should be approached with the mindset of compromise and an objective assessment of both parties’ leverage. Some people disdain negotiation, thinking that humiliating the other side is victory—such behavior is no more than a shrew’s quarrel.”

In this prison, almost all the lessons had no textbooks. The special training instructors used countless case studies, told like stories, as their main teaching method—stories that were beyond imagination but exceedingly practical.

She spoke with encyclopedic knowledge of intelligence agents worldwide, holding a particular fascination for the feats of Mossad.

Of course, whenever she mentioned Mossad’s blunder in Norway, she could not suppress a laugh: “Imagine, an organization as formidable as Mossad making such a ridiculous mistake.”

The world’s four greatest intelligence agencies were known as the CIA of the Eagle, the KGB of the Bear, the MI6 of John Bull, and the Mossad of the Hoopoe.

Among these, Mossad was the smallest in personnel yet the most secretive, bloodthirsty, and radical. They never abandoned a name on their kill list.

Besides overseeing the Military Intelligence Directorate, the Shin Bet, the Foreign Ministry’s Investigations Bureau, and the Police Intelligence Department, Mossad commanded three dedicated assassination teams known as “Kidon.”

“Kidon” means “bayonet” in Hebrew.

At the 1972 Munich Olympics, the extremist group “Black September” orchestrated the abduction and murder of eleven members of the Hoopoe’s delegation, plunging the nation into grief and fury.

In response, the Hoopoe established the “Reaper Commando,” code-named “Operation Wrath of God.” Over nine years, employing shootings, poisonings, and bombings, they assassinated or executed eleven targets on their list, while also killing dozens of civilians by mistake, shocking the world.

The instructor spent two days dissecting the methods used in those assassinations—such as the ninth target, who was blown up in his car in 1973.

The bomb was installed beneath the seat, its safety disengaged by the victim’s own weight and detonated remotely.

But even Mossad, for all its prowess, could not foresee everything. The instructor recounted the infamous debacle in Norway with a wry smile.

In the summer of 1973, a Moroccan hotel worker named Ahmed and his wife, after watching a film, were strolling home hand in hand beneath the endless northern twilight. As they passed a bus stop, several Mossad agents, disguised as passengers, suddenly drew their pistols and gunned down the unsuspecting young man.

This unfortunate soul had been mistaken by Mossad for the top target on their hit list.

Soon afterward, six Kidon agents—four men and two women—were arrested; five were convicted of murder and imprisoned.

After finishing the lecture on the web of interests along the borders, the political instructor left the students deep in thought: “In this profession, you will face nothing but conspiracy and betrayal. You will live side by side with lies, and lying is a basic survival skill.

Hans Tiger once said: ‘A lie repeated a thousand times becomes the truth.’ He wasn’t wrong. When you lie every day, you start to believe it yourself. Only then are you a qualified intelligence officer.”

“All those you deal with are hardened criminals. Your countermeasures must be ruthless. In this line of work, there is no right or wrong—morality has no foothold. Your only evaluation is victory or defeat, survival or annihilation.”

“Every country and region has its own insurgents. Regardless of whether our nation is allied with theirs, their rebels are our potential partners in united front work. Obviously, such operations cannot see the light of day. You are the ones who will carry them out.”

A trainee near Flying Squirrel muttered, “So, we're supposed to help these reckless revolutionaries overthrow their governments, huh?”

“Often, you must learn to befriend casino owners, drug lords, gang bosses, even insurgent leaders. When necessary, know how to exchange interests and forge alliances.”

His desk mate grumbled, “Often? Isn’t it more like always?”

They will, to some extent, suspect or know your true identity. In the world of intelligence, everyone leaves others a sliver of space—no one is destroyed outright. That is because even the most trivial piece of information can be exchanged for something greater. Burn this into your bones: this is a world rife with violence and death, where mercy, true friendship, and gratitude do not exist. The day you lose your value is the day the dagger comes out. Only those who survive can be winners. Therefore, your methods must be ruthless, your heart cold as iron.

The classroom fell silent beneath the political instructor’s gaze. Seeing the stunned faces, he was satisfied—at last, not a trace of innocence remained. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Sometimes, to gain the enemy’s trust and cooperation, you must help him eliminate his own enemies.”

A low murmur rose among the students.

He went on, “It’s also possible you’ll be forced to harm your own colleagues.”

Everyone present understood: not just those in this room, but everyone in this world, could become a treacherous betrayer at any moment—and could, equally, fall victim to the most unexpected betrayal.

Chang Ke recalled the lessons of his previous years, whether from family, school, or society.

“Never lie or deceive!”—his father’s stern warning.

“Be an honest person!”—the earnest advice of his elders.

“Honesty is the foundation of character!”—the slogan written by his high school homeroom teacher on the blackboard.

“If you still believe those words today, you’re walking straight to your grave.”

Chang Ke understood.