Let Them Taste It Too

Wafangdian.

This land's name had been spoken by the White Bears, and spoken by the Japanese. Now, it was part of the Kwantung Leased Territory, a nail the Japanese Empire had driven into Fengtian, and their bridgehead for defending Lüda Port.

Today was a special day.

The 29th of West Moon, the Emperor's Birthday Festival.

It was Emperor Hirohito's birthday.

The Japanese residents and garrison in the entire city were immersed in a fervent, celebratory atmosphere. Their Hinomaru flags hung from the streets, soldiers wore brand-new uniforms, and shops displayed congratulatory banners.

The climax of the celebrations was in the city center plaza. The garrison Commander was delivering a passionate speech, boasting about their "Imperial Nation's" good fortune in war and envisioning a "Holy War" to conquer the entire continent.

The soldiers and residents below listened as if entranced, raising their arms and shouting "Long live His Majesty the Emperor" again and again.

Amidst this fervent clamor, a buzzing roar came from the sky.

At first, no one paid it any mind.

"Is that one of our planes? Here to liven up the celebration?" a resident looked up and asked a nearby soldier with a smile.

"Perhaps," the soldier glanced up carelessly. "But this sound... it doesn't quite sound like our Army Aviation planes, does it?"

The roar grew clearer, sharper.

It wasn't the slow drone of an old biplane, but a shriek that tore through the air, carrying an ominous sense of pressure, approaching rapidly from afar.

Finally, someone realized something was wrong.

The plane suddenly burst from the northern clouds, diving towards the center of Wafangdian at an incredibly terrifying angle!

Its fuselage lines were impossibly sleek, and there was no familiar red insignia on its wings!

"Enemy attack! It's an enemy attack!"

A sharp-eyed officer let out a hysterical scream.

But it was too late.

Before the revelers could react to their shock, the fighter jet, which Zhang Xueming had named "Jian-1," swooped down like a predatory eagle over the long street.

"A Yong, hold on tight!"

Inside the cockpit, Zhang Xueming's expression was terrifyingly calm, only his eyes held a bloodthirsty excitement.

He didn't give Feng Yong any chance to respond, his thumb pressing down heavily on the red button on the control stick.

Rattata-tata-tata-tata-tata!

The West Ting large-caliber aircraft machine guns roared in unison!

A chain of tracer fire, like the scythe of death, descended from the sky, brutally lashing the crowded street!

In that instant, time seemed to freeze.

The metal storm of bullets swept through with invincible force.

The marching soldiers collapsed in swathes, like wheat cut down. The residents who had been cheering moments before were easily torn apart, flesh and blood flying. The high-flying Hinomaru flags were shredded in the hail of bullets.

Screams.

Gasps.

Chaos.

In just one strafing run, the once festive street turned into a living hell.

"Xue Ming! You... you..." Feng Yong's face was ashen. He gripped the seat tightly, his body shaking uncontrollably from the immense G-forces and violent turbulence. He wanted to stop him, to make Zhang Xueming stop, but seeing the hellish scene below, the words wouldn't come out of his throat.

Zhang Xueming ignored him.

He yanked the control stick sharply, the Jian-1 roared, its nose lifted, instantly breaking away from the ground and climbing back into the sky.

A beautiful pull-up, followed by a roll.

The plane aimed at the ground again.

This time, the target was the central plaza, where the crowd was densest and the celebration was in full swing!

Feng Yong's pupils contracted sharply.

He saw the panicked Japanese soldiers and residents on the plaza, scattering like headless flies.

He saw the garrison Commander, who had been grandstanding on the stage moments ago, now being hurried away by guards, trying to escape.

The past humiliation, the occupied land, the blood of his countrymen... scene after scene flashed through his mind.

The terror and reluctance in his eyes gradually gave way to a cold madness.

He suddenly grabbed Zhang Xueming's arm and shouted in a hoarse voice.

"Xue Ming!"

"Don't use the machine gun!"

"Drop it on the most crowded plaza! Throw that thing called a 'Gift' down there!"

"Let them taste what it's like to have their homes burned down!"

Zhang Xueming turned his head and glanced at his brother.

He smiled.

"Got it!"

He easily flipped a switch and pressed the bomb release button.

Beneath the fuselage, the "gift" filled with viscous fuel detached from its rack, spinning as it hurtled towards the high platform in the center of the plaza.

Boom!

There was no earth-shattering explosion.

The tank shattered on the ground, splashing dark green viscous liquid everywhere.

Immediately after, a ball of orange-red flame suddenly expanded, like a small sun rising out of nowhere on the ground.

The flames engulfed everything.

Those who were splashed by the liquid instantly turned into burning torches. They let out horrific screams that were not human, rolling on the ground, but unable to extinguish the flames that clung to them like maggots.