Kang De's Secret

Calm down, Donald, calm down.

A desolate White House, a lonely A Chuan, the morning light streaming through the window and falling on him.

He took a bottle of Diet Coke from the refrigerator and pulled the tab.

Sipping slowly.

Her loose, corn-coated blonde hair covered her forehead, almost falling in front of her eyes.

But it couldn't hide the fierce, wolf-like gaze.

He maintained this posture, calming his turbulent, panicked, and uneasy feelings.

And carefully consider this plan.

Because he had already realized his dangerous situation.

Power is now like a castle in the air, and even one's life and fortune are threatened.

--Under normal circumstances, he exploited a loophole, taking advantage of the social divisions in the Amerikkka to defeat a group of political elites and successfully rise to power. Even if the Democratic and Republican parties were unwilling or unhappy, they would have to accept him as president, since that's the rule of the game that everyone has to abide by.

Even the actual rulers and controllers of this country will use him, this unconventional president, to do things they would have been too embarrassed to do in the past.

For example, clearing away some deep-seated problems, removing many historical burdens, and suppressing emerging challengers.

A Chuan was actually well aware of these things, and didn't care—in his experience, being used wasn't a bad thing at all, because it meant he had value to be used.

As long as something has value to be exploited, there is the possibility of trading and exchanging it.

He made a fortune as a result, and his daughter and son-in-law made a fortune in the Middle East.

These are the rules of the game. A Chuan believes he has mastered them, and he plays the rotten rules of Amerikkka politics better than most beach presidents.

Everything went smoothly.

He incited those pathetic, foolish, and ignorant rednecks, gaining a following of fanatical followers who propelled him to the throne with fervor, adoration, and votes. In return, he rewarded them with well-intentioned lies, false promises, mortgages on future prosperity, and even a stock market where you might make a little but I'll definitely make a fortune.

Don't get me wrong, this is the fairest deal imaginable.

After all, those foolish guys only contributed some practically worthless time, a few dozen dollars in campaign funds, and a worthless piece of paper called a ballot—nothing more. Did they expect any real money? Do poor people have the right to dream of high-return investments?

The idiots and poor devils who hold the votes have no long-term vision, cannot understand the difference between long-term and short-term interests, and will not realize that the current good results are obtained by overdrawing the future of the Amerikkka. They will only cheer for the current prosperity and shout "Long live the great President A Chuan"

A Chuan believes that this is the beauty of a democratic system.

Because... he can only serve for a maximum of eight years.

What business is it of his what the consequences will be?

The game, the plan, actually went very smoothly. It gained countless supporters and delivered a good result.

The current trend is excellent, and there is absolutely no possibility of losing the election.

Without a doubt, he will defeat that idiot Sleepy Joe in the next election, keep both the Democrats and Republicans in check for another four years, and those four years will be the most wonderful four years for him to realize his ambitions and carry out his ideals.

... However.

However, an unexpected change occurred.

Extraordinary awakening events began to occur on a large scale during his term.

Things suddenly became complicated.

These bizarre events of extraordinary awakenings are developing at an extremely rapid pace.

The events of the previous year were mostly minor incidents, such as a loser in Queens suddenly getting aroused while masturbating, an Asian high school student in Austin burning the brains of two Football players who were bullying him with his eyes, and a bar singer in California killing his gay friend after getting high.

The situation escalated over the next year.

A horrific locust plague has struck West Africa.

The enormous Leviathan sea monster rushed straight to the California coast.

The London branch of the Ancient Round Table was wiped out by a legion of superhumans.

A terrifying Titan Giant has appeared in Lake Huron.

The strongest superhuman on Earth, like a god among men, has appeared—and he is actually China.

The approach of a major supernatural event to the United States has put alarm bells ringing for A Chuan.

He knew all too well the nature of those poor bastards in the country. Whenever there was any disturbance or major event, they would cause trouble, commit arson, murder, and looting. And the shameless Fikniuz would always pin the blame for these riots on him, A Chuan, regardless of whether they were right or wrong.

It seems that before his election, Amerikkka society was kind and friendly, with neither racial discrimination nor wealth disparity. But after his A Chuan, he single-handedly tore apart what was once a beacon of humanity.

In short, the leak of a major supernatural event will have an unpredictable impact on A Chuan's re-election, as it will undoubtedly greatly affect his votes and approval ratings. According to A Chuan's recent plans, he must do everything in his power to suppress information about the supernatural event during this term in preparation for the election.

We can discuss anything after I'm re-elected.

Anyway, no matter what kind of absurd things he does during his second term, it won't do him any good. If he does well, following Roosevelt's example, it's not impossible to have a special re-election plan during a period of extraordinary awakening—that would not only be good, but extremely good.

That being said, and despite his shrewd calculations, A Chuan, as a German immigrant and with new money, was ultimately too naive.

He only anticipated the impact of the extraordinary event on his re-election and approval ratings.

However, it failed to consider the winding serpent that had been hidden beneath the bald eagle for over two hundred years.

A transcendent awakening has occurred, and all well-informed and far-sighted vested interests have realized that a completely new era in human history is about to begin.

As the most prestigious and powerful old-money families in this country and even the world, these blue-blooded Bumblebee naturally hope that their families can maintain their former glory and power in the new era, rather than become stepping stones for rising stars.

They crave to acquire, possess, and decipher the secrets of supernatural power in order to gain the upper hand in the coming changes, and for this, they are willing to disrupt the stable order and rules of the game that have been established for over a century.

By personally stepping forward and leveraging his expertise and influence, he helped the two parties, the Donald and the Elephant, reach a tacit consensus.

Use some underhanded tactics to get rid of that crude and uncouth guy, A Chuan, who inexplicably seized power through loopholes, in the upcoming election, so that the country can get back on track.

To end the inexplicable conflict and confrontation with Kang De, ease tensions, and ideally absorb him into our side by introducing his noble and extraordinary bloodline, or at least numb and appease him.

Until they obtained... a gun capable of bringing down even the gods of the mortal realm.

"I see..."

A Chuan whispered silently; he was gradually understanding everything.

That's why today, that dog Esper directly tore off the mask and tried to prevent himself from becoming enemies with Kang De.

After all, those bastards and vampires never considered Amerikkka riche from Germany, whose grandfather was of the same generation!

"They want me out..."

This was almost inevitable.

If it were just a matter of playing within the rules of the game against Sleepy Joe, that pathetic old man with dementia, then A Chuan couldn't think of any reason why he could lose.

But if the rule-makers themselves get involved and gather consensus from both the Democratic and Republican parties, that's a different story.

--The president, upon thinking of this, began to bite his fingernails in frustration.

The most critical issue now is no longer losing the election or being unable to be re-elected.

It's about personal safety, the safety of your family, and everything related to the Trump Organization.

He knew what he had done in office—how many political enemies and rivals he had offended, how many capitalists and corporations he had caused to suffer heavy losses, and how many coffee cups worth tens of thousands of dollars he had failed to sell.

This wasn't part of his original plan, so it wasn't a problem.

He had even planned out his retirement—just like the books his uncle gave him, the concept of "people's war," and the tens of millions of rednecks he had gathered, which were his army and his biggest support.

That means tens of millions of votes, terrifying political resources, and politicians from the Elephant Party having to kneel down and call him "Daddy"!

Even after retirement, he can still become a legend in the Elephant Party by virtue of his enormous political resources. Whoever he supports may become a member of parliament, mayor, governor, or even president. At that time, even if he has already stepped down from office, the Elephant Party's little beach bandits will line up and kneel outside Mar-a-Lago, begging His Majesty President A Chuan to grant them a brief but precious audience!

However, it was smashed.

They were all smashed.

With the referee himself involved, the rules of the game are completely useless... In front of those people, A Chuan's mere billions of dollars in assets and connections with no political allies are utterly worthless.

I'm going to die,...

Or become a groveling dog or Joker, begging for their forgiveness and mercy.

Are you really going to entrust your safety and that of your family to those vicious, despicable bastards?

Did they become the laughingstock of those "big shots" from then on?

Could even those nobody who's currently fawning over him turn on him later?

--No!

A Chuan suddenly stood up and stalked around fiercely like a wolf.

The issue of asylum... or rather, the issue of personal safety.

I need allies.

I need some help.

A Chuan subconsciously looked around.

The White House —this is the President's official residence, the center of supreme power; he is the master of this place.

Not long ago, he still thought so.

The blatant wiretapping, the defense minister barging in, the president's bodyguard changing sides without batting an eye—all of this is a reminder to A Chuan that he is being watched by the real Big Brother.

In this house, he had no allies he could rely on or depend on.

Who can help me?

--Proud Boys? Those redneck militia groups?

Are you kidding me?

Soon, the image of that colossal creature across the Pacific Ocean came to mind.

That was the name he had called out affectionately countless times on Twitter.

Even Russia won't work.

Only that country possessed sufficient courage, will, fighting spirit, and strength to confront such an enemy.

This is what they've been doing all along.

Maybe I can...

--No, that's not right.

Wait a moment.

A Chuan shook his head.

This kind of thing is dangerous and outrageous. If it were discovered, it would be a dead end, and he would definitely be publicly tried... From a practical point of view, it's not very feasible either. Given the caution and seriousness of that country's officials, they probably wouldn't accept his open defection and subsequent emigration after retirement.

Amerikkka law and public opinion would never agree to the former president immigrating to China.

Not to mention the venomous snakes, hyenas, and jackals.

But...

The key issue has never been the China.

Instead...

He turned around abruptly, took a few quick steps, went to the table, and pushed the documents on his private desk aside.

Take down a thick stack from the very top of the mountain of files.

Open it; the first page has photos.

A boy with yellow skin and black hair, with a reserved smile, outstanding demeanor, and pride like a god.

"You must be valuable, Donald. You must be valuable. You can't wag your tail and beg at the fangs of those vipers, nor can you simply run off to China and become a sack full of secrets. You must be valuable..."

He took Kang De's photograph from under the paperclip, held it up, and stared into the other's eyes.

What value do I have to you?

The important thing is not the official China Chinese government, but Kang De.

Kang De could provide him with protection; Kang De could deter those who wanted to harm him.

Compared to the China authorities, Kang De was able to do things more freely.

A Chuan pondered for a moment, then dragged the portable blackboard from behind the table.

He picked up a marker and quickly wrote on the blackboard.

The magnetic stickers are used to attach the documents one by one.

Comora... or rather, Zhuerban.

AWSL Company.

A training academy for extraordinary individuals is currently under construction.

Kang De, through the words of Grand Secretary Yue, issued a proposal to all nations of the world: he wanted to become the universal law for all the extraordinary people in the world, and he wanted to govern and deter them.

A Chuan thoroughly reviewed all of Kang De's actions around the world, as far as the intelligence machine of the Amerikkka could find. Now, this intelligence has been systematically organized and summarized by A Chuan.

"Kang De..."

His aged face was solemn as he stared intently at Kang De's global layout on the blackboard.

"I believe you are a true patriot. You stand on the side of your country, you fight for its well-being and future, and you are willing to fight for its greater interests..."

His gaze swept over intelligence reports: Kang De's words and actions, his blatant interference in the affairs of various countries, and the increasingly arrogant attitude of the US, China relied on Kang De's influence. In recent negotiations, American Empire officials, represented by Pompeo Pig, were yelled at by the US every day, and they were all furious.

But I think...

A Chuan said in a low voice, "You don't seem to be wholeheartedly serving your country."

The construction of Zhuerban.

AWSL Company's peculiar business practices.

Kang De's bizarre behavior patterns.

And his relationship with the China government was characterized by friendliness, tacit understanding, honesty, and trust.

But this implies a sense of alienation.

"You didn't join them, you weren't part of that huge system, you didn't hold a formal position, you had no rank, so they can't treat you like a civil servant or a soldier..."

A Chuan murmured, "Kang De, your main focus is on that small, run-down country in West Africa, and your strange business... What makes you, a true patriot, maintain a proper distance from your beloved homeland instead of wholeheartedly integrating into their society, becoming their comrade and a part of it?"

"I guess it must be..."

The president was silent for a moment, then said decisively, "--Secret!"

"What secrets do you have that you can't tell your own country?"

His eyes seemed to flash with lightning, and sparks of thought danced actively in his seventy-something-year-old brain. A Chuan's gaze swept back and forth.

"Is it related to your ridiculously strong, unexplained power?"

"Is it related to your large-scale purchase of weapons and supplies, which are just piling up in Comora without moving?"

Is it related to your global acquisition spree of companies and land, your lack of business strategy and focus, your desire to do and have everything, yet your particular preference for manufacturing and industry?

The exploration of ideas was halted at this step.

With its vast global intelligence network, the American Empire States naturally kept a close eye on Kang De's every move.

Every warehouse, production line, and acquisition, every expenditure and income, is traceable.

No materials disappeared out of thin air, and no production lines were dismantled.

Everything purchased, the production technologies introduced, the factories built, and the hospitals constructed were all piled up on the narrow land of the United Kingdom of Comora-Gambia. People from China and Southeast Asia were continuously crammed into the country by plane, and everywhere was filled with yellow-skinned people. All the highly paid scholars, engineers, and doctors recruited were engaged in substantial work here, establishing settlements, planning cities, and laying railways.

This country, once considered one of the poorest in the world, has begun to forcibly industrialize.

All eligible Black people in the area were forced into schools and military camps. After being fed every day, they were trained by brutal instructors who instilled discipline, diligence, obedience, punctuality, responsibility, and resilience into their bones and souls. Then they went to learn a series of cultural courses.

Kang De hired an astonishing number of mercenaries for this purpose, and also recruited a large number of veterans from within the country.

If the events that occurred in these military camps and schools were to become public knowledge, these places would be bombarded by human rights organizations. Every day, Black people who were beaten to the point of near death were brought to the hospital, and white instructors who showed obvious racist tendencies and did not follow training regulations in their punishment and training were executed by tank shells.

What's most chilling is Kang De's own approach.

While inspecting the training of new recruits at a military camp, Kant noticed that the locals, who were generally lazy, undisciplined, and unreliable, were slow to respond to the instructors' commands and demonstrations. So Kang De personally stepped in to teach them.

He patiently demonstrated a series of movements, such as standing posture, marching, and lining up, to the fifty trainees one by one, only to be met with their disapproving looks and laughter. After teaching them, he had them practice, but the effect was almost nonexistent. Kang De taught them again, but it was still the same. Finally, he taught them a third time, hand in hand, but to no avail.

The observing instructors were disdainful of this weak teaching method, but Kang De calmly showed them several photos: pictures of malnourished local children, and the tragic state of the locals who had been attacked by white phosphorus bombs in the Battle of Moyani. Finally, Kang De told these black people that they had fallen far behind and that if they did not want to spend their lives as pigs and sheep to be slaughtered and garbage to eat dirt, they had to catch up with double the effort through blood and sweat.

He gave these people one last order to perform the actions and procedures they had just been given.

As before.

The white instructor, who had been watching intently, hadn't yet managed to suppress the disdain and sneer on his face when Kang De, who had walked over calmly, yanked the assault rifle hanging from his chest.

In front of everyone, Kang De emptied his magazine in front of the fifty civilians, then calmly called over another group of fifty men and ordered them to shovel the dead and the living out of the camp within ten minutes, and then return for training. He only had ten minutes.

They used eight minutes and twenty-one seconds.

The next order for the team was to shovel back the dead and living people outside the camp, and then have them undergo training in ten minutes.

These fifty pieces of educational equipment were reportedly used until they were so rotten that they could affect the health of the trainees, before they were ordered to be cremated and disposed of. Upon hearing the news, King Comora, after a brief conversation with Kang De, officially authorized, in the name of the king, that all adult training camps be assigned quotas for killing.

Of course, this was nothing unusual for any country.

Kang De had already proven himself to be a cynical and ruthless psychopath through his bloody massacres of Fr*nce mercenaries, extraordinary individuals from various countries, and the upper class from England. Compared to that, shooting a few black men was practically self-cultivation.

They were simply curious about what Kang De was trying to achieve.

All the evidence suggests that Kang De genuinely wanted to completely rewrite the fate of the United Kingdom of Comora-Gambia, not only by improving material aspects such as national welfare, industrial strength, and medical care, but also by fundamentally altering the nation's character and spirit.

For this purpose, huge sums of money have been continuously invested.

They purchased large quantities of supplies, established factories, bought weapons production lines, brought in workers from China at high salaries, built railways, constructed power plants, and set up shipyards. They were clearly putting on an act of building the United Kingdom of Comora and Gambia into the most developed country in Africa, which made Fr*nce feel uneasy.

Moreover, he went so far as to offer lavish funding, proposing research projects to top-ranked universities worldwide, demanding detailed plans for transforming underdeveloped regions into developed ones.

So... why?

Why are they so concerned about this country? Why are they pouring so many resources into it?

The think tanks of various countries were baffled and unanimously believed that there was a significant reason behind it. Based on Mr. Kang De's consistent words and actions on the Internet, he did not seem like an internationalist who had such a sense of responsibility towards the Black people, but these actions and investments were real.

After much thought, the prevailing opinion is... this must be a conspiracy by the Chinese Communist Party.

But in A Chuan's opinion...

A Chuan turned around and pulled out a report from the archives about the major reconstruction of Comora - Gambia.

The first page contains A Chuan's comments, which are his conclusions after listening to the think tank report.

"A bunch of paycheck thieves analyzed a pile of dog shit."

The Amerikkka president offered his own assessment and conjecture.

"If Kang De was a psychopath, then this was purely a large-scale social experiment about taming the Nicholas."

"If Kang De wasn't, then he must have been experimenting with, summarizing, and generalizing a method—a method to transform the most ignorant, lazy, and incorrigible scoundrels in backward regions into communists."

A Chuan stared at his previous comments, lost in thought.

"The secret... Kang De, your secret."

He felt he had vaguely touched upon a truth... but in fact, he should stop there.

"What I seek is cooperation, allies, and refuge, not another enemy who wants to kill me."

"Besides, this is just a conjecture."

"Whatever secrets Kang De may have, one thing is certain—he has enough power to defend them, and even the Amerikkka and the China can't obtain them unilaterally."

The Grand Commander muttered to himself, "So I won't pry into your secrets, not for now. Whatever you want to do, I can provide you with convenience and assistance, and then you'll receive my goodwill. I want to do you a small favor, and then you can do me a small favor, so that we can become friends... After all, I should be of value to you too."

For example...

He remembered the runestone that had appeared out of nowhere near Lake Huron.

It was engraved with several mysterious symbols and emitted energy fluctuations that astonished even the extraordinary.

Unbeknownst to Kang De, the agents had already taken it away.

At the time, A Chuan regretted his decision very quickly after giving the order. He ordered that Kang De be kept in the dark and that the stone be taken away. He immediately realized that this was a very freaking thing to do.

A strange stone appeared near Titan —is it a good thing or a bad thing? It's more likely to be bad. If it were secretly taken away for research, it might attract some terrible enemy, causing chaos like in Hollywood movie. The number of deaths doesn't matter, but affecting the election would be a real mess.

Even if it's a good thing, it's still not very useful.

Because anything that cannot produce results and benefits within the first term cannot be considered good, and anything that cannot produce results and benefits within the second term is garbage!

So, whether it's something good or bad, at least let Kang De take a look...

If it's good, let's watch it first before discussing it.

If he dares to seize it, what's the point of having nuclear weapons?

Unfortunately, A Chuan's idea was still ruthlessly rejected by the Five-Headed Building. Clearly, the Viper and the Vampires would not let go of any ambition to monopolize supernatural power... But now it seems that none of that matters anymore.

That stone seems like a potential first step in friendship.

"And the problem now is..."

He bit his nails again. "How can I contact you? How can I hint at it?"

After what happened this morning, A Chuan realized that he was being watched from all angles by a venomous snake. If he rashly contacted Kang De, made demands, or reminded him of certain things...

Then he should go ride in a convertible.

What's even more absurd is that if he were riding in a convertible and shot in the head by a Mexico illegal immigrant transgender vegan animal rights activist, the American Empire and even the world would find it perfectly reasonable.

"How can I let Kang De know that we can talk?"

He meticulously organized Kang De's information, erasing all traces from the blackboard. By then, the sun had risen, and golden sunlight shone on A Chuan's profile.

This means that the other half of the president's face is hidden in the Shadow.

"I need a plan."

He grabbed the eraser and scrubbed hard, like a lion tearing and clawing.

A Chuan lowered his head slightly, his face contorted in a grimace.

"Fuck you."

The oppressive crisis finally had a chance to catch its breath, and he was going to give those arrogant people who looked down on him and saw him as easy prey a big surprise.

"Fxck—everything," he said viciously. "You beach bums, we'll see."

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PS1: Happy Mid-Autumn Festival.

PS2: I'd like to recommend You Meng's new book, "Prime Minister, I've Understood," to anyone interested.