Bombardment

"Oh, damn..."

The task force's newly appointed commander let out a cryptic sigh.

At this moment, the sun rises, and the sky is so clear that it is visible to the naked eye that fighter jets break through the clouds and fly towards the airport, one after another, squadron after squadron.

The adjutant shouted, "Sir! We should take cover immediately!"

The newly promoted lieutenant colonel glanced at the other man, his expression somewhat complicated.

"Is it necessary, Lieutenant? Which countries can deploy more than fifteen third-generation fighter jets in Africa? Besides, even if it's the enemy, is concealment even useful?"

The lieutenant paused, then looked back at the airfield now shrouded in smoke. "Could it be... wait, didn't headquarters order us to immediately take over the western airfield? Why are they sending fighter jets to bomb it directly?"

The lieutenant colonel gripped the handrail beside him, closed his eyes, and sighed softly.

"This order wasn't given to us; it was given to that China man at the airport."

"... Hold."

The lieutenant looked shocked and murmured, "But he saved us..."

"But they didn't save the president, they didn't save the bigwigs in the cabinet and parliament. Actually, even if they had, it wouldn't have mattered!" The lieutenant colonel threw his cap to the ground. "Those sons of bitches!"

It's no use saying anything now, and it's too late to do anything either. Fighter jets roared across the sky, and you could barely see bombs detaching from their racks, flipping in the air, unfolding their tails, or scattering countless tiny parachutes.

The fighter jets that had completed their attack circled back along their predetermined routes, awaiting the second order from the early warning aircraft. The skies over Comora were filled with the largest advanced attack group ever seen on the continent, a number that the France Air Force could not deploy in 24 hours.

"At least twenty-five... and not just the Rafale..."

The lieutenant colonel gazed at the sky, unsure whether to feel anger or shame. "The United States are here too..."

In Comora, a country with absolutely no air superiority, the war machine was set in motion, money was burned through, and twenty or thirty multi-role fighter jets were deployed at once, with the sole objective of an airfield.

Modern air operations prioritize quality over quantity. If the objective is to destroy evidence in a warehouse, the laser-guided bombs carried by four Rafale fighter jets would suffice. There is no need to use cluster bombs or deploy such a large and aggressive attack group at once.

There is no need for the France government to lower itself to demand joint action from the United States.

Their goal was clear.

Deploying fighter jets exceeding the airspace density in one go, unleashing an excessive amount of firepower, is not just about destroying warehouses, but about razing the entire western Comora airport to the ground. Every inch of land will be completely covered by explosions, shrapnel, and shockwaves, leaving not even a rat alive.

The soldiers stared blankly at the distant airport, where flames flickered, black smoke billowed, a series of walls of fire surged up, and the sound of explosions echoed from afar.

Air strike groups from France and the United States unleashed a barrage of various deadly weapons: JDAM Joint Direct Attack Munition, twin-launched rockets, CBU-105 cluster bombs... Towering air towers and barely visible terminal buildings were all covered and collapsed by the smoke and dust from the explosions, so much so that even at this distance, the astonishing force of the sandstorm could still be seen in the distance.

Large plumes of smoke rose into the air, and the ground trembled slightly, as if the gaping maw of a giant beast was about to devour everything. A destructive force echoed throughout the small airport.

The newly promoted lieutenant colonel gripped the armrest tightly, his body trembling slightly.

The soldiers gazed into the distance in silence.

They all guessed at the same time who was there.

They all remembered what happened last night, and knew who had saved them in that frantic, desperate situation. Today, they obeyed orders and headed to the western airport, having been warned that they would encounter the China man from last night. Before their departure, the ambassador had patiently explained various precautions to them, telling them what to be careful of if a conflict arose with that China man. And now...

Bombs fell from the sky.

A scam, a trap.

"Damn bureaucrats!"

The commander unleashed a furious curse, and dust mixed with smoke and fire blew in from afar.

"Bring me my communicator!"

Inside the France Embassy in Comora, the ambassador's office was kicked open by an enraged Lieutenant Virey Veret.

"You heartless, shameless demon! You cursed bitch!"

The former task force commander, who had been dismissed and placed under house arrest on the spot for refusing to obey orders, roared as he kicked aside the secretary who tried to stop him, grabbed the ambassador by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

His eyes were practically spitting fire.

"What have you done! He saved two hundred and forty-eight France soldiers! And is this how the glorious and great Fr*nce repay his benefactor? You disgust me!"

The ambassador took a deep breath and reassured, "Lieutenant Colonel, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

"Come on, you son of a bitch! You must have been involved, otherwise how would they know Kang De was at that airport! I despise your rotten soul! Yours! Parliament's! Cabinet's! And that son of a bitch president's! You're all utter rotten people!"

Watch your words!

The ambassador shouted, "You are still a soldier of the Fr*nce. Your mission is to obey orders and fight for the interests of France! So are we; all of this is for the Fr*nce!"

Lieutenant Colonel Virey said grimly, "Including thanking our saviors with aerial bombs?"

"No! He's a damned chink! A yellow-skinned monkey! He ruined our strategic plan in Comora! He humiliated the Fr*nce forces! He disgraced the France army! Most importantly, he got his hands on that mind-controlling artifact; we can't let it fall into China hands!"

The ambassador abruptly broke free from Virey's grip, pointing his finger at the man's chest. "Do you think this decision was easy? Do you think I have no remorse? But sometimes we have to do the right thing, for..."

"--For the benefit of France, is that it?"

Lieutenant Colonel Virey stared coldly at the ambassador, his face filled with disappointment. "No, you're just shirking your responsibilities and saving face. To prevent everything you did in Comora from being exposed all at once, you're willing to trample on morality and conscience. We are soldiers, we are killing machines, we are stained with blood, we do the dirty work, while your hands are clean, but your hearts are blacker than the devil's!"

He spat, turned, and strode away.

"Where are you going?"

Lieutenant Colonel Virey tore off the arm patch, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it.

"I've fired you all!"

He strode out of the room. The France ambassador rubbed his neck, which was throbbing from being strangled, a murderous glint in his eyes. He gave his secretary a look, and the secretary slowly took out the walkie-talkie.

The same news reached Moyani and then the King's ears. After all, this was Comora, a place with virtually no air defense system and no air defense radar capable of detecting high-speed fighter jets. However, the naked eye was still useful, and some local residents spotted a supersonic fighter jet flying across the clear sky.

I also saw the rising smoke and fire.

King Chakat's expression changed drastically. He immediately dialed the phone, but the receiver was busy. The satellite phone could not be connected at all. The entire communications room was deathly silent. No one spoke.

"Fxck! fxck! fxxxxxxck!"

The cup, microphone, earphones, communicator—everything was pushed to the ground by the king.

He plopped down on the ground, clutching his head. "Oh no, shxt..."

Kirov's expression was equally grim, but he still tried to comfort the king, "Don't worry too much. The most important thing now is to figure out what happened. Maybe it's not that bad..."

But all efforts and attempts failed repeatedly.

He ordered the frontline and scouts to conduct reconnaissance, contacted the embassy, and asked China and Russia for help, but all he received was bad news; he still couldn't get in touch with Kang De.

"I should have sent him back immediately; I shouldn't have left him there..."

The king's eyes were red and tears streamed down his face. He pounded his head in frustration.

Even now, he realizes that he underestimated the West's limits. National sovereignty and international norms are nothing but trampled garbage in the face of their interests. They can swagger into Comora airspace and drop bombs at will without considering the consequences.

But as king, as the ruler of this country, he was powerless to do anything about it.

All we can do is lose.

To lose all the fruits of our labor so far, to lose our people, to lose our dignity, to lose new friends, to lose a ray of light in the darkness.

There was no one in the communications room to comfort him, and Kirov didn't have time to say anything. He needed to get the news back home as soon as possible and find a way to contact Kang De.

He didn't think Kang De would just die like that.

Just then, Chakat leaped up, snatched a rifle from a guard, rushed out of the police station, jumped into a car, started the engine, and sped away.

People were terrified. "Quick, go after them!"

The king rushed all the way to the embassy district, the jeep skidded to a stop, and the King of Comora walked up to the main gate of the France embassy with a rifle in hand. France soldiers immediately raised their guns in alert, but they recognized the king.

An embassy is considered part of one's own territory, and guards have the right to shoot any hostile personnel who pose a threat. However, this is merely a rule and a theoretical concept, while the so-called hostile personnel is the head of state of a sovereign nation.

As the guards hesitated, gunshots rang out from the direction of the embassy, along with shouts and the sound of shattering glass. They turned around and saw chaos. A uniformed officer was seen carrying a person out of the building, followed by several others, each holding a weapon, confronting the military attaché who had come out to pursue them.

Dimitri, along with his men and the Comora temporary guard, gave chase. Upon seeing this, the king suddenly rushed forward and knocked unconscious a soldier who turned around with the butt of his rifle. The Russia immediately charged forward like wolves, disarmed another guard, and the group rushed in.

The one who took hostages and rushed out of the embassy was Lieutenant Colonel Virey.

The king raised his rifle and rushed forward with the Russia to provide backup. Their eyes met, and they were both startled. Then, Chakat II realized that the person being held hostage by the lieutenant colonel was actually the France ambassador.

"Your Majesty, I formally request political asylum in your country."

Lieutenant Colonel Virey, with the ambassador by the neck, spoke to the King.

Chakat II said in a deep voice, "It would be my great honor."

The lieutenant colonel loosened his grip slightly, allowing the France ambassador to catch his breath before roaring in fury, "Your Majesty Chakat! This is an outright provocation, no, a declaration of war!"

The king's AK was already pointed at his temple. "And what about your bombing of Comora territory? A picnic?"

The ambassador snapped, "I don't understand what you're saying!"

The king pulled back the bolt of his gun with a click.

He tilted his head, his eyes bloodshot. "Can you understand this?"

The embassy guards immediately drew their guns, confronting the king's men in a tense standoff, ready to pounce at any moment.

The ambassador's face was grim; even though he was terrified, he had to maintain Fr*nce's dignity. "I understand, Fr*nce understands too! Your pulling the trigger will bring a new war to Comora!"

The king hissed, "And what about your bombs?"

The ambassador desperately turned his head, looking directly into the king's eyes. "I'll repeat myself, I don't know what you're talking about. If you're referring to last night's events, our government will explain and compensate you. If you're not satisfied, then declare war on us! Come on! Declare war to me verbally, and I'll immediately relay your stance back home! King of Comora, you understand what you're doing!"

As he finished speaking, the ambassador raised his eyebrows, exuding the sharp edge and arrogance of a traditional, long-established empire.

We dropped a bomb.

But Comora doesn't even have air defense radar. Do you have evidence?

Even if you have evidence, so what?

Who would believe you? Who would care about your cries and pleas?

This is a joint operation launched by the United States and France. Will you retaliate for it?

Let's go!

Declaring war on us? Your army can't even set foot outside the territory of the Comora!

You'd be better off keeping your tail between your legs and begging for more compensation and loans. What else do you want? What else could you possibly want?

In the ensuing silence, everyone watched nervously. The king's actions would determine whether something would happen, and many people did not want that to occur.

Chakat II slowly lowered his gun.

The ambassador's pursed lips slowly relaxed. He knew that the embassy's surveillance cameras and the neighboring cameras were all pointed at them. He had made the right bet; this tough statement would improve his approval rating.

That guy wouldn't dare.

They wouldn't dare to do it anymore.

King Chakat tossed his rifle aside and drew a dagger from his waist.

The ambassador was suddenly taken aback. "You..."

"Someone will come looking for you; until then, live in fear."

The king gripped the dagger and, amidst the ambassador's screams, dragged the blade across his face, leaving a bloody cross-shaped gash. Blood gushed forth, and the wound was so deep that bone was visible.

This is a symbol used in Comora culture to punish "traitors".

"Now tell me, will your country go to war against Comora for the ambassador's slashed face, or will you use this scar as part of the price to appease me? Answer me, do they even care?"

Lieutenant Colonel Virey released his grip, and the King shoved the ambassador to the ground.

"Someone will come looking for you; it will be either me or him."

He bent down and said softly, "We'll see."

Then he turned around and walked away.

Everyone present breathed a sigh of relief, including the France. Guards and doctors rushed over, and no one bothered to investigate Lieutenant Colonel Virey, who had gone with the King.

Leaving the France embassy, Chakat II gazed at the clear sky, as peaceful as ever. He felt a deep-seated shame, pain, and sorrow. The most painful thing in the world is not the murder of a friend, but knowing who the murderer is yet having no hope of revenge in this lifetime.

He looked toward the China embassy, where people had already come out, their expressions solemn.

The king looked around, wiped the snot and tears from his face, and forced a smile that was more like a grimace, "Gentlemen, who can tell me how I should face his father?"

Just then, in Kang Jinzhu's private room in the embassy's underground air-raid shelter, a dark light flashed.

Kang De emerged from nothingness.

Kang Jinzhu immediately stood up, looking quite relieved.

"There have been more footsteps pacing outside the door than usual. I suspect something's happened, but I'm afraid I won't get any answers," the father said. "Has something happened?"

Kang De laughed, "That's awesome! France Rafale fighter jets, United States F-16s and F-35s, there must have been twenty or thirty of them in total. They bombed the airport into a white wasteland. Damn, it's 2019 already, and they're still doing carpet bombing. They're determined to blow me and Tacitus to smithereens!"

Kang Jinzhu was both shocked and furious. "Damn it! This is absolutely shameless!"

"Basic operation: Sit."

Kang De spread his hands and said with a smile, "But I'm fine too, don't worry."

Papa Kang looked at Kang De and sized him up. "... and gained a huge advantage?"

Kang De asked curiously, "Huh, how did you figure that out?"

"No one knows a son better than his father," Kang Jinzhu said. "That round ball ended up in your hands? And it's a good thing?"

"Yes, and not only that, there was an unexpected bonus."

Kang De's smile grew even wider, "A very, very, very unexpected gain..."

What did you gain?

"This... it's unspeakable, unspeakable, it's a little scary..."

"Stop keeping me in suspense! Tell me already!"

"Let's get down to business."

Kang De pressed his father back into his chair and said seriously, "I need to disappear for a while."

Kang Jinzhu and said, "Hmm?"

"Since I've been blown up, of course I should take this opportunity to vent my anger, rip off the France, and then reappear. Wouldn't that be a blow to their egos? It'll also make them suspicious."

Kang De laughed and said, "How about we put on a play in two days at most?"

Papa Kang sized him up. "What are you going to do?"

Kang De blinked. "Go find a wife."

"... You're going to the world of anime?"

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PS1: This is a long chapter of 5,000 words. I'll write another chapter.