The General's Daughter: The Mission

The car finally rolled to a stop in front of a run-down bungalow.

The house looked as though a strong gust of wind could tear it apart.

Its corrugated roof was stained with years of rain and neglect. The faded exterior walls bore cracks that snaked across the surface like old scars. Even from the outside, one could tell the bungalow was tiny—two rooms at most.

Lionel stepped out of the vehicle and instinctively moved toward the rear passenger door, intending to open it for Lara.

Only to discover that she had already stepped out. Amelia followed behind her.

Lionel glanced at Lara one more time. His admiration of her grew a notch higher. What an independent woman.

The three of them stood before the property’s rusted gate. At first glance, Lionel had thought the gate was painted brown. Upon closer inspection, he realized there was no paint at all.

The gate had simply rusted so badly that the entire metal frame had turned a dull reddish-brown.

His brows knitted together. Had Sean Conley truly fallen this far?

The Sean Conley Lionel remembered was a legend of the silver screen. For a decade, he had been one of the country’s most celebrated actors, a man whose talent seemed limitless. He could move audiences to tears with a single look in a drama, then command the screen with explosive charisma in an action film.

At the height of his career, there was hardly a role he couldn’t master.

Now he lived here?

Lionel bent down, picked up a small stone, and raised his hand to knock against the metal bars. He did not want to touch it with his hands.

But before he could do so, the gate creaked open.

A man emerged.

He looked to be in his mid-thirties, though the exhaustion etched into his face made him appear older.

Long black hair flowed down past his shoulders in unkempt waves. A thick beard covered nearly a third of his face, reaching all the way to his chest. His clothes were simple and worn, but beneath them was a frame forged through years of relentless training.

Even in decline, one could still see the martial artist he once was.

Lara unconsciously sucked in a breath.

For a split second, she was reminded of her master, Jethru.

If Sean’s hair and beard were white instead of black, the resemblance would have been uncanny.

”Go away.”

Sean’s voice was cold and emotionless.

”You are not welcome here.”

Without waiting for a response, he began closing the gate. But Lara stepped forward and placed her hand against it.

The metal groaned to a halt.

Sean frowned. He pulled harder but the gate didn’t move.

Sean Conley had never stopped training... even after his life had fallen apart, even after society had abandoned him. Martial arts remained the only thing tethering him to sanity.

His grip tightened around the rusted bars.

The muscles in his forearms corded and swelled beneath his sleeves as he pulled harder, enough force to wrench the gate from the grasp of an ordinary person.

Yet the gate did not budge. Not even an inch.

A flicker of surprise flashed across Sean’s rugged face.

His gaze slowly rose to the young woman standing before him.

She looked slender and delicate, her frame seemingly incapable of overpowering even an average man. Yet the hand resting casually against the gate felt as immovable as a mountain.

Sean’s eyes narrowed.

Years of martial arts training had sharpened his senses beyond those of ordinary people. He knew the difference between brute force and true power.

The strength preventing the gate from moving did not come from muscle.

It came from something deeper. A frightening degree of inner strength.

For the first time since opening the gate, Sean looked at Lara seriously.

Then his eyes met hers.

Deep brown eyes that were calm, steady and unfathomably clear.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Sean felt as though those eyes were looking past his face, beyond his body, straight into the broken corners of his soul.

”Is this how a martial artist faces his problems?”

Lara’s voice was calm, as still as a lake untouched by wind.

Sean’s brows furrowed.

”By hiding behind a locked gate?”

A flash of anger surfaced in his eyes.

”You don’t know anything about me.” His voice rose a decibel higher.

”No,” Lara admitted. Her gaze never wavered.

”But I know enough to see that you’ve already lost everything you held dear in your heart.”

Sean froze. The words struck far harder than they should have.

Lara took a small step forward.

Her voice softened. ”So what exactly are you afraid of losing now?”

Silence fell. Even the distant chirping of birds seemed to fade away.

A few beats passed.

Lionel stared at Lara in astonishment.

As a veteran director who had spent decades studying people, manipulating emotions, and reading human nature, even he would never have thought to say something so simple yet devastating.

Sean remained silent. His expression shifted. The hostility was still there. The caution remained. But something else appeared beneath them.

Recognition.

Because when he looked into Lara’s eyes, he saw no pity. There was no mockery in those and profound deep eyes.

No hidden agenda. Only sincerity.

After a long moment, Sean released the gate.

The metal hinges creaked open.

Without a word, he turned around and walked back toward the house.

The gesture was enough of an invitation.

Lionel exchanged glances with Amelia before following behind.

Two middle-aged men and two young women entered the small bungalow.

The interior was modest.

The wooden furniture was old and worn smooth by time. The paint on the sofa had long since faded away, exposing weathered wood beneath. Yet despite the poverty surrounding him, the house was spotless.

Everything was neatly arranged.

Everything was clean.

Lara thought that was a good sign. Sean was not totally a hopeless case. She expected to see a man drowning his sorrows in alcohol but he was proven wrong.

Sean walked to the sink and filled a plastic pitcher with water from the tap.

He retrieved four glasses before placing them on the small table.

”This is the only thing I can offer you.”

His tone carried no embarrassment... no bitterness... no shame.

Only simple indifference.

As though wealth and poverty had long ceased to matter to him.

As though a man who had already lost everything no longer cared what others thought of his circumstances.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

”Sean...” Lionel finally said. A trace of nostalgia crept into his voice. ”Do you still remember me?”

Sean looked at him.

His face remained expressionless.

His gaze lingered on Lionel for several long seconds.

Lionel felt his chest tighten.

The young actor he had discovered decades ago had once possessed an extraordinary memory. Sean could remember names, faces, and conversations years after they happened.

Yet now...

There was nothing in those eyes. No recognition. No surprise. No warmth.

Only emptiness.

Then Sean spoke.

”Should I?”