"Kirov, translate"

Dust swirled as Kang De traversed the vast, desolate land of Seligal.

It's a journey of about 300 kilometers.

Sometimes, to avoid unnecessary trouble, he had to choose more difficult wilderness areas, just as many days before, when he crossed a long road from the heart of the empire to reach Goth territory.

But compared to before, my mindset has changed again.

"Father... this place is even worse than Myanmar."

Asphalt roads are a rare commodity, and they are often poorly maintained, riddled with potholes. In many cases, what are called highways are actually dirt roads in rural China, and even cement roads are hard to find.

Along the way, the settlements were filled with swirling dust, low tin shacks or even thatched houses, men chasing lizards with sticks, women hawking charcoal with seven or eight trays on their heads, and little children who looked only five or six years old but carried bottles and brushes to solicit car wash business along the street.

The only thing I saw along the way that was in line with international public transportation standards—I'm talking about India.

Its official name is a human-powered rigid suspension external ticketing system.

Nothing unexpected happened along the way.

Although they encountered several groups of police and even military personnel, they only glanced at the car briefly before letting it pass immediately. There was no harassment, no verification, no solicitation of bribes, and once they even pretended not to see anything.

The reason there was no solicitation of bribes or obstruction was because of the Humvee's imposing size and obviously overpriced modifications.

There was also a weapon station on the roof, consisting of twin M2HB heavy machine guns and an AGS-17 automatic grenade launcher, which had been modified by Iron Son, and Kang De's indifferent and sharp eyes.

There was also an MG6 Lynx anti-materiel sniper rifle placed in the driver's seat.

What I saw, encountered, and experienced along the way was completely different from what I encountered at the airport.

Residents on both sides of the street quickly moved away, and if they couldn't avoid it, they would show bright and friendly smiles to indicate that they were harmless. Whether they were going in the same direction or in the opposite direction, vehicles would swerve to keep their distance.

Even the country's violent machinery, the police and the army, displayed warm smiles of Sino-African friendship, quickly giving the green light to let people pass, a stark contrast to the cars queuing up to pay tolls. Even the drivers who were detained and extorted had no complaints.

What's even funnier is that Kang De kept his face covered with a scarf the whole time.

The reason for this contrast may be that Kang De's virtue is now more abundant, so he is able to win people over with his virtue, which makes his Africa friends admire him.

"This place is far inferior to Goth's... even to Myanmar."

Horus's voice came through the car stereo. "The weapons on board are enough to wipe out one of their companies and cause a massacre in their city, yet these soldiers and police turn a blind eye, not even bothering with the most basic questioning, or even reporting it to their superiors."

Kang De looked out at the azure sky and the boundless plains, sparsely covered with vegetation and vast open spaces. In the distance, a group of creatures he didn't know were moving in a flock. In terms of scenery, it was better than back home, at least much better than big cities. This was the only bright spot he had encountered so far.

He said casually, "Haven't you noticed? There's a pattern. Along the way, the higher the rank and position of the soldiers and police, the fatter they are. Civil servants are more robust than ordinary people on the roadside, and drivers are fatter than pedestrians—that's what those two Serbia told me. Africa is like this all the time: poverty, backwardness, a vicious cycle. Nobody wants to improve it. Civil servants who rise to power frantically amass wealth and indulge in lavish meals, then step down and enjoy life. That's the reality here."

The Autobots had heard Kang De talk about China, had seen Goth in person, and learned about the advanced level of modern society from the movies and books on Kang De's computer, which is why they found it incredible.

It's unimaginable that such primitive and backward places still exist in modern society, less than halfway around the world.

Second-, third-, and fourth-hand cars, even those that are scrapped; intermittent power outages; and flights... Aside from these things, this place is not even comparable to Goth.

The condition of road maintenance, the health and morale of civilians, the integrity of government officials... all of these are incomparable to those of countries in this other world; it's truly unimaginable.

"I see no hope here... Even when Goth faced the onslaught of world hegemons, I could see hope in their courage and indomitable spirit."

The Autobots whispered, "What exactly has led to their tragic state?"

"There are many, many factors, but that's just the surface, or rather, a scam."

Kang De patted the steering wheel and said calmly, "The most important, or rather the only, reason is the enslavement, plunder, exploitation, and control that the white world has exercised over this land for hundreds of years, and continues to this day."

"Manipulate them economically, divide them politically, condone corruption, instigate wars, constantly tamer and emasculate them, making them greedy, lazy, and base. Then, promote their greed, laziness, and baseness through public opinion, even making them accept their fate, causing the elites born in this land to leave, and leaving the vast majority of people to wallow in self-pity, with no hope of advancement, thus creating a vicious cycle..."

He smiled and said, "Look, this is their Civilization, this is a democratic and free world."

Iron Son was deeply shocked. "These guys are much more powerful than elves..."

"Yes, a hundred years ago, they tried to do the same thing to us."

Kang De continued to laugh, but a sharp killing intent flashed in his eyes. "But they're daydreaming. Civilization that has endured for thousands of years has a foundation and strength. They want to sever that foundation, which is also a daydream. We paid the price of tens of millions of lives. We killed the Japan, we killed the United States, the United Kingdom, the France, the Russia... Then we lit the nuclear fire, we continued forward, we dragged the game into our rhythm, and one day, we will take back everything we've lost!"

He was already brimming with emotion as he spoke.

He was already a Han chauvinist with nationalist tendencies, not to mention that he had just been involved in a bloodbath.

Horus, being a newly created mechanical life form, was not familiar with China history, nor did he possess Kang De's sense of national identity. He merely surveyed the vast land through the receiver, recalling those incredible black people and that lifeless country.

It never doubted its father's words.

But some questions still lingered in my mind.

"Then..." it whispered, "When will we be able to get back what this land and its people have lost?"

Kang De paused slightly, then shook his head.

"It's none of my business. Let them wait for a saint to be born, or for my Celestial Empire to unite our brothers in Asia, Africa, and Latin America."

He had just gotten off the plane and was in Africa. In just over ten minutes, his opinion of the region had plummeted to negative levels. Rescuing his father was the priority; who the hell cared about this?

Speaking of my father...

"No wonder my dad told me that most people go to Africa before they're ready to support their brothers in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, and they chant 'World Unity,' believing that racial discrimination is a grave sin. But after spending some time in Africa..." Kang De chuckled by the window, "They all turn into Ku Klux Klan."

"Father's father..."

Horus's words carried a hint of curiosity. "Has he changed too?"

"Him...?"

Kang De withdrew his gaze and said softly, "No."

From Seligal to Comora, a distance of over 300 kilometers and four hours, Kang De crossed the border.

This place looks even worse than in Seligal, but the morale of the people is no different from that in Seligal. What's strange is that there's hardly any sign of war here.

It was probably just a war involving light infantry of around a thousand men.

Or rather, this small, extremely backward country no longer knows how to face war... War should be far, far away from them.

Using a pre-downloaded Google Maps, Kang De guided Horus to his father's company's headquarters in Comora, located in Sangmili, one of Comora's three major cities... a major city in Comora, which would be equivalent to a small county town in China.

It has now been captured by Gambia.

When the map showed that they had arrived at Sangmili, Kang De recognized the city.

The photos my father sent back, the photos from my mother's first visit, the albums kept in the family group chat, and the current scene overlap.

There are no tall buildings, the highest being no more than four stories. Beige is the main color, which is favored by the locals. Many houses are just foundations, made of corrugated iron, red brick, or even thatched. There are still quite a few pedestrians on the street, and there are also vendors by the roadside, but their faces still show fear and unease.

War is one thing, hunger is another. Many Black people don't have the habit of saving, and they will go hungry if they don't work for a day. Even though the city has actually been occupied by the Gambia Army, they still have to repeat their daily lives... just like before.

On a hill outside the city, Kang De sent the Autobots back to the White Mist World, as it was too conspicuous, and the next action was not to burn the vehicles, but to secretly infiltrate.

Besides, this city isn't very big.

He covered his face and hurried along, avoiding the Gambia soldiers stationed at the main intersections. Following the directions on the map, he headed towards his father's company headquarters. The location was considered an affluent area, but there were hardly any people there, or rather, hardly anyone on the roads. Only furtive, ragged Comora People peeked around, hoping to gain something from the war and the fleeing.

The sounds of laughter and shouting from the Gambia soldiers could be heard from many houses.

After going around in circles, we finally found the company's compound, a two-story villa surrounded by red walls and barbed wire, just like in the photo.

This is behind the camp, there's a vegetable garden. He'd seen photos his father had sent; it was planted with watermelons, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, scallions, and the like, all surrounded by a small fence.

There are two large generators to prevent sudden power outages, a huge satellite dish, grapevines, a small pergola, deck chairs, and a small outdoor screening area—you could say this is a small courtyard house built in the China countryside, and it doesn't seem out of place.

Kang De took a deep breath and climbed over the wall.

As far as the eye could see, the fence of the vegetable garden had been kicked down, as if it had been dug up and ravaged by wild boars. Almost all the vegetables and fruits were gone, with some broken remnants of fruits and vegetables remaining in the soil. The entire backyard was a mess. The swing and parallel bars had been dismantled, and there were even a few piles of excrement and bloodstains on the ground.

Kang De's face darkened as he walked toward the front yard, where a foul odor filled the air.

From afar, you could see that the iron gate was gone, many windows were smashed, and there were messy marks everywhere, as if it had been ransacked time and time again.

Turning to the front yard, the ground was stained with blood.

Two dogs were hanging, one already skinned and the other half skinned, while a black man in Gambia uniform was carefully working with a dagger.

I've seen that dog in the photos my father took.

Scientific name: Chinese Rural Dog.

The Gambia army kidnapped China people as hostages, but there's no reason for them to kidnap dogs.

The dog will definitely stay at home.

The Black man heard Kang De's footsteps, turned around, saw the Asian man, and was startled. He reached for the rifle beside him and shouted, but two syllables later, Kang De was already in front of him.

A punch landed squarely on his throat. The black man clutched his throat, his eyes bulging, and he collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

Another Black soldier heard the noise, rushed out with his gun, and Kang De dodged out from the side, grabbed his head and slammed it against the wall, blood splattering the wall.

Upon entering, the room was in disarray and empty, with many pieces of furniture and appliances clearly missing. As he entered, an old black soldier jumped up from the tattered sofa, a flash of cold light, and a dagger pierced his throat. Kang De grabbed his head and ripped it off, blood spurting violently like a fountain, spraying throughout the room.

Kang De pulled a pistol from Old Black's waist, released the safety, and fired two shots.

A few seconds later, chaotic footsteps and shouts came from upstairs. Kang De looked up at a certain spot above him, pressed his hand against the wall to the side, and released his mental energy to Extraction. With a loud bang, a hole cracked in the second-floor floor, and his legs sank into it, but his body was stuck.

Kang De grabbed a leg, pulled, and swung it, slamming the other man to the ground with a dull thud.

Before the old black man could figure out what was happening, he was hit so hard that his vision was filled with stars, and his body curled up like a shrimp. Kang De had already raised his foot and stepped on his hand, grinding it hard.

The pain was excruciating, and the black man let out a terrible howl, just two syllables. Then, another foot stepped on his face, pushing his military cap aside and silencing him, leaving him only with a series of painful whimpers, as if crying or pleading.

Kang De picked up the satellite phone, dialed a number, his voice cold, and stomped his shoe back and forth.

"Kirov, translator."

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PS1: First update, 4000 words!

PS2: By the way, I'd like to recommend a friend's book, "To Four Thousand Years Later." Those who are interested can check it out.