Bugs

Today the sky is clear and the blue waves are high.

Northwest of Gambia Island.

The HMS Knight Astolfo, a Horizon class frigate with serial number D-621, belonging to the Atlantic Ocean Fleet of the Fifth Republic of Fr*nce, is heading southeast.

This is a product of the joint development between France and Italy as part of the next-generation common frigate program. It is a new generation of medium-sized air defense ships in Europe, employing various stealth technologies and integrating advanced air defense missile systems from both Italy and France.

It is the culmination of the tradition of bickering and wrangling among Europe countries.

It is a regrettable product of the cost-saving philosophy.

And a negative example from the history of major naval powers.

The single-array rotating radar, with its ability to update the air situation only once per second, is enough to make the ramjet engine of a supersonic anti-ship missile laugh itself apart.

In an era where major powers are constantly increasing the caliber of their naval guns, the France swiftly removed the main bow gun, leaving only two 76mm water cannons to make do. They're utterly useless and can't even be number one.

The most impressive thing is that it disregarded close-in weapon systems with a rate of fire of thousands of rounds per minute and confidently equipped itself with two F-2 cannons, 20mm in caliber, with a maximum rate of fire of 720 rounds per minute.

Together with two 76mm cannons, they serve as the last line of defense for warships and even fleets against anti-ship missiles with terminal attack speeds often starting at Mach 3, after the air defense missile system fails to intercept them.

--Oh, and this machine gun is fucking manual.

The boldness and confidence of this design are so great that even the gunners are like Lu Benwei a famous Chinese comedian known for his aggressive and sometimes eccentric style).

Moreover, both naval guns are located at the front, and there are no kinetic energy weapon systems at the stern. This means that if anti-ship missiles attack from the rear, and the inadequate radar and poorly performing anti-aircraft missiles fail to intercept them, the France can only watch helplessly as their rear is blown up, without even a chance to raise the white flag.

But even this compromise, made through budget cuts and limited to self-defense, remains a terrifying naval force off the west coast of Africa. After the fall of Zhuerban, the second Horizon class ship, the Knight Astolfo, which was undergoing repairs in Seligal, urgently set sail for the waters near Gambia to search for possible survivors and escapees, awaiting further orders.

At 2 p. m. local time, they received new orders.

The warships set sail at full speed; a top-secret mission.

At approximately 4:00 AM, the NFH-90 medium anti-submarine helicopter completed its takeoff preparations, the crew boarded the aircraft, and the frigate's aviation department lieutenant personally led the team. The helicopter left the helipad and gradually took off.

They looked down through the porthole.

From top to bottom, the Knight Astolfo's smooth, simple, and beautiful lines, set against the backdrop of the azure sea, resemble a beautiful woman lying in the water.

Its pristine white body, flat apron, and the stubbornly protruding white sphere atop the bridge make the two 76mm naval guns in front of the bridge appear remarkably small.

The crew members looked serious as they watched the Knight Astolfo shrink into the distance and the lingering spray trailing behind it. No one spoke or laughed. In the monotonous and long long-haul voyages, the crew members of the aviation department were the most enviable. It was always nice to be able to take a spin in the air occasionally.

But this time is different.

They had heard that something rather strange had happened in Gambia.

At a time like this, sending a helicopter towards Gambia is obviously intended to be obvious to anyone.

Sure enough, the major, sitting in the crew cabin, glanced at the four sailor officers opposite him. These men were transferred from various departments on the ship, including the deck control group of the operations department and the clerical staff of the administration department—the latter being a refined-looking Chinese man who was selected simply because he knew Chinese.

Nowadays, navies around the world are increasingly inclined to recruit Chinese-American soldiers or soldiers who can speak Chinese, especially the United States. This is because in recent years, the China Navy has been expanding its ocean-going navigation range, and warships of various countries need clerks and administrators who can speak Chinese in order to facilitate communication and verbal sparring.

The major received the mission code from the co-pilot, held the file folder, compared it, opened the document, took out the fax personally issued by the Department of Defense, and read it for a moment.

Then he looked up and said, "Gentlemen, you are about to carry out an emergency mission. Fr*nce requires you to remain silent about everything you are about to see. After the mission, everyone must re-sign a confidentiality agreement. We will be receiving a VIP in the waters near Gambia's territorial waters to transport important cargo."

The four soldiers immediately straightened their backs and shouted, "Yes, sir!"

Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw two metal boxes strapped to another row of seats.

"The key points of the mission are: keep your mouth shut, keep the secret, and remain friendly. No hostile actions are permitted. Sergeant Luo, especially you, will be responsible for translation. The entire conversation will be recorded. I require you to translate with a rigorous attitude, devoid of any personal bias."

"You are not allowed to take out your self-defense weapons without permission. And most importantly, at any time, in any place, and under any circumstances, you are not allowed to engage in any form of hostile behavior towards VIPs. These are the Department of Defense's exact words—whether it's weapons, words, or even a glance!"

After the major finished speaking, he asked, "Any questions?"

The four soldiers exchanged a glance, and the second lieutenant from the operations department shouted, "Yes, sir!"

"Explain."

"Does the rescue operation involve rappelling? Does it require temporary shutdowns? I haven't found any rescue equipment. Where will we find the VIP, on the island or at sea? Will there be any engagement?"

The major glanced at the mission fax, confirmed it, and shook his head, saying, "There's no such intelligence. We're only ordered to strictly follow the designated route to the coordinates and then wait."

At this point, even the major couldn't help but shake his head and mutter, "What a bureaucrat who keeps everyone in suspense."

For thousands of years, foolish and idiotic high-ranking officials have issued inexplicable orders from thousands of kilometers away, which are then carried out by frontline soldiers who rack their brains and risk their lives.

The task was described in a lighthearted manner, like a casual outing, but the precautions were repeatedly emphasized.

Especially since the VIP target was China, this excessively courteous, almost obsequious tone and instructions secretly displeased the white major—was it really necessary?

This was not a serious mission, and there was no need to remain completely silent. After confirming that everything was in order, the sailors in the crew cabin began to talk, mainly about what had happened to Zhuerban.

And who is the VIP?

Could it be the China ambassador to Gambia?

"What's been happening in Gambia lately is strange; they started a war and then got defeated."

Previously, the Knight Astolfo was undergoing repairs in the naval port of Seligal, a country that surrounds Gambia and Comora, and thus has good information network, receiving all sorts of strange and unusual intelligence.

After all, for a group of sailors, the greatest amusement during the monotonous life at sea is gossip.

They had even heard intelligence that the Foreign Legion's task force in Comora had been defeated... but they didn't know if it was true.

"Luo, are you also following the situation in Comora? Your compatriots are making a big splash there. I saw the video myself. Were you lying to us before? I thought all China people were as weak as you."

Sergeant Luo retorted, "I am France."

Otherwise, they would not be able to join the France Navy, let alone serve on the Horizon class frigates.

He was born France, his parents were immigrants, and he was proud of that because he was able to join the France army instead of the foreign legion.

At the same time, he also harbored a sense of aversion and rejection towards China and his own race. This hostility was not without reason, because he was France, born France. But no matter how much he acted like a France, in his childhood, on the streets, at school, and even in the army, his nickname was always "China," and everyone always called him China.

Especially now, the Department of Defense and its officials are treating this VIP who wants to be picked up and dropped off with extreme caution and utmost seriousness as if they were dealing with a China person—it would be one thing if it were United States.

China... why China?

Even he, who trained hard, performed well, and was dutifully selected to participate in a classified mission, was extremely happy, thinking that his professional skills and loyal performance had finally earned the appreciation and recommendation of his superiors... But he just found out that it wasn't like that; it was simply because he could speak Chinese.

At that moment, he couldn't describe his feelings.

Some even resent their parents. Since they were already France citizens and were born in France, why did they have to teach them to speak Chinese and write Chinese characters? Why not cut ties completely?

His white comrades around him were talking enthusiastically about the China man who had caused a sensation around the world, while Sergeant Luo just found it noisy—but unfortunately, his comrades never considered his feelings.

Suddenly someone laughed and said, "Wow, wait a minute, could it be that VIP is that Kang De?"

The second lieutenant from the operations department chuckled, "Really? Then I'll definitely make him sign it for me."

Another sailor beside him winked and put his arm around Sergeant Luo's shoulder. "It's all up to you, Luo. Whether we get a few months of bragging rights and free beer depends on you..."

The major said, "Gentlemen, the confidentiality regulations."

The jubilant French soldiers all hissed in unison.

Sergeant Luo couldn't help but say, "Why Kang De? He's in Comora now and should be preparing to return to China. Besides, I've always believed it's a carefully orchestrated hype and a hoax. China people don't know kung fu; I'm absolutely certain of that. The reason he's so famous is either a disgusting scheme by China capital to reap global profits, or a conspiracy by the China government to strengthen its international influence..."

Several France soldiers, however, were displeased. "Oh, Luo, you've seen the video too, haven't you? It doesn't look edited, and it certainly doesn't look like special effects. We analyzed it frame by frame. Even Hollywood wouldn't do something this meticulous. He's undoubtedly a real man. How can you doubt your compatriot?"

"I am France!"

Sergeant Luo was getting increasingly exasperated. "Just watch, it won't be long before this real man signs a contract with China or Hollywood company and becomes an action star!"

"No arguing, gentlemen."

The major regained control of the situation. "Don't let your emotions affect the VIPs."

Sergeant Luo was even angrier.

You guys don't even lick the United States this hard!

About twenty minutes later, the pilot's voice came through. "Major, we are about to reach the designated coordinates. This is an area of sea. There are no islands, no reefs, no buoys, no ships, and the radar has not detected any signals. Where are our guests?"

The sergeant walked to the cockpit, glanced at the radar, and then looked down through the window. There was only a vast expanse of sea, shimmering in the sunlight, with nothing else in sight.

He checked the coordinates again, confirming they were correct. After a moment's thought, he ordered, "Patrol the area. The mission orders us to wait. I'll go ask command..."

He returned to the crew cabin, retrieved his communicator, stood in front of the helicopter's side window, and connected to the ship's control tower. "Captain, we have reached the designated position and have not spotted V..."

Before he could finish speaking, his eyes suddenly widened, and he stared blankly ahead. "Oh, damn..."

With his limited eyesight, he could barely make out a dark dot breaking through the clouds in the distance, hurtling toward him.

"Missile attack!" he roared, "Heat-generating missile! Evade! Evade!"

The helicopter swerved sharply to the side, but the pilot's bewildered and panicked cry rang out, "Sir, we're not locked on, and the radar hasn't detected us..."

"But what is that?!"

The major stormed into the cockpit, furious.

"Could it be an eagle?" The co-pilot reached for the binoculars, but the major snatched them from him. He picked up the binoculars, stared intently for a moment, and his mouth gaped wider and wider.

"Sir!" someone shouted from the crew cabin, "The captain said he wants you to open the hatch!"

He urged him twice before the major finally snapped out of his daze.

The shock of what I just witnessed has not yet faded from my mind.

There's nothing more terrifying than seeing a person soaring through the clouds aboard an NFH-90 medium anti-submarine helicopter—if there is, it's that person is carrying two plastic bags.

If anything could be more terrifying—that person was still on the phone.

Here's an even scarier one—a person flying on an eagle, carrying two plastic bags, impatiently making a phone call, and yet he's locking this person outside the helicopter.

He shuddered, rushed to the cabin, opened the safety valve, and pulled open the side door of the helicopter. The surging sea breeze rushed in, blowing through his hair and his face.

The four crew members also subconsciously squinted their eyes, and then, at the same time, they stared wide-eyed, ignoring the salty and cold sea breeze, their minds blank.

They saw a person.

I also saw an eagle.

The eagle flew past at incredible speed; it was golden, its ethereal blue wings flapping, passing beneath the helicopter, its wings flapping and turning, flashing past a stunning rainbow.

A person stood in the void not far from the helicopter, as if stepping on the most solid ground. The helicopter hovered in the air, and as he walked, golden light bloomed under his feet with each step. Intricate and beautiful patterns unfolded like petals, shining with a wonderful radiance. In this way, he stepped through the void and across the cold and high sky.

The sound of air hitting the metal floor inside the helicopter cabin was heard as soon as the foot touched the metal plate.

People then realized that such people really exist, existing in the Mortal World.

With yellow skin and black hair, this face is extremely familiar; it went viral on the internet a couple of days ago.

Kang De.

Kang De, the China.

Kang De glanced at the group of white men who had stood up, his gaze lingering on the Asian man. "Can you understand me?"

Sergeant Luo's mind went blank; he was stunned, terrified, and confused. He nodded instinctively. "Yes."

Kang De shook the bag in his hand. "Do you have a box?"

Sergeant Luo glanced subconsciously at the two metal boxes on the chair. Several white men rushed over, untied them, and laboriously carried them to Kang De, opening them.

Kang De put the two bags he was carrying into the box and closed it.

People saw something thrashing about inside, like many insects, but they dared not ask what it was... It was a secret. Now they know why it was kept a secret.

"Give these to your superiors, one for China and one for yourselves. Tell them not to try anything funny, and to do it quickly and carefully, because these things can chew up the boxes."

These locusts, with their iron mouths and steel teeth, were trapped in the bag and kept struggling and biting. Although enchantment and enhancement can give ordinary substances magical properties, there is a limit to what it can withstand. Once that limit is exceeded, it will collapse. Kang De had to keep a close eye on it along the way, and if the bag was about to break, he would use a nested doll-like device.

I've already worn three or four layers.

Therefore, there's no need to worry about the France taking the enchanted bag for research. Even if they get it quickly, by the time the France scientists get their hands on it, the box will only contain locusts.

"Do you understand?"

After Kang De closed the box, he scratched the cold, solid metal surface a few times. With the Power of the Fire Thief, he could Extraction and decompose it. He could also write freely on solid surfaces, pretending to have profound inner strength.

When the France saw that this top-level protective case had been scratched like this, they all nodded vigorously in approval.

"That's alright then. You guys hurry up, and be careful. I don't know how long this box will last. You'd better have a bigger one as a backup—I won't even mention the consequences if the thing inside escapes."

Kang De waved his hand, leaned back, and leaped out of the helicopter. The Himo's Eagle caught him from below, its rays shining brightly. People watched him fly away quickly, then looked at each other in silence for a long time.

It's like a dream.

After a while, the lieutenant who had previously mocked Sergeant Luo licked his lips and asked somewhat timidly, "Luo, what else can you China do?"

This time, Sergeant Luo did not refute or emphasize his nationality.

After contacting the authorities in China and informing them that the package had been delivered, a flash of black light appeared, and Kang De had returned to the White Mist World.

Now that this small matter is resolved, it's time to focus on bigger issues.

In the vast space of the western airport, various armored vehicles and weapons were gathered together, with the muzzles pointing towards a bulging plastic bag on the ground, printed with the logo of Lian [beep--] Supermarket.

Inside the bag, a swarm of insects were wandering aimlessly.

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PS1: 5,000 words, update... Hmph, Valentine's Day and all that, I don't care about celebrating it.