You Wouldn't Mind Taking the Blame for the Country, Would You

"These barbarians, these disobedient, ugly monsters, how dare they do this?"

General James roared again in the command room.

The special envoy sent by the Masters had already been reduced to bloody chunks. Naturally, the Masters were furious, blaming him for not teaching these barbarians a lesson instead of negotiating with them.

What? You say the Masters gave the order for people to go and negotiate?

It was clearly you, General James, who repeatedly pleaded that it was not advisable to resort to force, and that if an envoy was sent to demand their surrender, a crude monster like Banner would surely surrender at the first sign of trouble.

The Masters believed your nonsense and, not wanting the young men to get hurt, agreed to your absurd request.

Now that things have turned out this way, how will it end?

As for how General James would resolve this, it was naturally by...

"Ross, I believed your nonsense, and look how things turned out. Tell me, how will we resolve this?"

Ross's heart leaped. Didn't these words just come from the phone? Weren't these the President's words scolding you?

What, you're asking me now?

"Your Excellency General, what did I do wrong?"

Ross's voice held a hint of disbelief and grievance. He straightened his back, looking firmly at General James, trying to maintain his stance and dignity before the furious commander.

"What did you do wrong? How dare you ask me? To get promoted, you sent your own daughter to try and persuade those barbarians. After she failed, you then tried to use the special envoy from Congress to save your daughter.

Now, the special envoy is dead. What do you say we do? Where do you say your mistake lies?"

Hearing this, Ross understood. He understood everything.

This bastard wants to shift the blame onto him and make him take responsibility!

In America, whether it's your fault or not, if someone intends for you to bear it, you'd best find a way to throw that pot away.

Otherwise, you take all the blame, and he reaps all the benefits.

The Masters had firmly placed the blame on General James. To avoid losing his position, this general, who was an expert at the art of blame-shifting, quickly passed the buck to himself.

Now, with only the two of them present among the senior officers, who else could Ross shift this blame to?

Even if he had just been dismissed, that excuse wouldn't hold up, and he couldn't shift the blame back.

After all, this was just verbal; there was no written document. How could it be counted?

What? You say they can check the recordings?

Cough cough, what if something is actually found?

Therefore, Ross had to take the blame. Who told him that the Red Hulk had messed him up so badly before? Now, even his hawkish stance wasn't firm.

Ross took a deep breath, a flicker of resolve and unwillingness flashing in his eyes.

He knew that arguing now would only drag him deeper into the mire, and General James's intention was already crystal clear: sacrifice him to protect himself.

On this battlefield intertwined with power and interests, the weak often become sacrificial lambs.

"Your Excellency General, I admit that my judgment of the situation was flawed, but I never had any selfish motives. Sending my daughter on this mission was a helpless choice as a father; I hoped to achieve peace at the smallest cost.

As for the sacrifice of the special envoy, I am deeply saddened and willing to bear the responsibility."

Ross's voice was low and powerful, each word seeming to be squeezed through his teeth, revealing his inner struggle and defiance.

"Very good. It's good that you know you were wrong. Prepare yourself. This time, we will teach these barbarians a good lesson!"

Prepare himself? Prepare for what? Wasn't he dismissed? Could it be?

Thinking of this, a surge of heat rose in Ross's heart again.

If he could utterly defeat Banner and his group, or even capture them...

Then, not only would the blame he was carrying disappear, but perhaps one day he could even advance further?

However, Ross was unaware of General James's cold smile as he watched him secretly rejoice.

"Issue the order. All combat units are to enter Level 1 combat readiness immediately and assemble as quickly as possible. Let's teach those barbarians a lesson!"

After issuing the order, General James turned to look at Ross.

"Ross, you know Banner best and have the experience. You will command this operation."

As expected, this was compensation after being made to take the blame.

"Boss, the military has already assembled. Should we charge out and fight now?"

Looking at the assembled military force preparing for battle on the opposite side, Blonsky licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Heavy tanks roared in, assault vehicles rampaged across the wilderness, and the noise of armed helicopters was incessant, accompanied by deafening roars. The entire battlefield seemed to be shaken by this power, dust flying everywhere, and the air filled with tension and unease.

However, in the face of this seemingly overwhelming military might, Banner and his warriors showed no fear.

"Of course, the Blood God has been waiting impatiently. It's time for us believers to offer sacrifices to the Blood God with the enemy's blood."

"Brothers, it's time to show our strength!" Banner shouted loudly, his voice cutting through the din of the battlefield and reaching every warrior's ears.

His voice was filled with power and conviction, as if able to ignite the fighting spirit deep within everyone.

With Banner's command, the warriors of the Chaos Gang surged towards the enemy's position like a tide.

They wielded all sorts of weapons, some swinging sharp axes, others wielding heavy greatswords, and still others equipped with modern firearms.

They charged the enemy recklessly, vowing to offer the enemy's blood to the Blood God.

Banner led the charge, rushing forward with the warhammer in his hand.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat.

Roaring flames spewed forth, the sound of gunfire continuous.

Lethal bullets struck Banner and his subordinates. The firepower that could tear ordinary people apart only managed to create dents on their bodies, splashing out blooms of blood.

This was the damage inflicted even on the newly recruited soldiers. The impact on Banner was even less, not even leaving a trace, like raindrops hitting him.

"Monsters!"

The machine gun crew stared in dumbfounded shock; they had never seen anything like this.

Banner's fearlessness towards bullets was understandable, but why weren't the former soldiers following Banner afraid of bullets either?

There had always been rumors in the army that the gods had bestowed power upon Banner and his followers.

Now, could it be true?

However, whether it was true or not, Banner's hammer was about to smash down on his head!