245: Chapter 246 A Shocking Black Pot! The CIA's Dead Silence and the Global Coalition's Frenzied Cleansing

"Beep—beep—beep!!!"

Langley, Virginia, United States, CIA Underground Strategic Command Center.

The piercing, highest-level red alarm tore through the calm of the command hall without warning.

On the massive holographic central screen, thousands of green dots representing the global intelligence network were erased as if wiped away by thin air within a mere 0.3 seconds.

They flickered out in massive swaths, instantly turning into a hair-raising blood red!

"What happened?!"

The CIA director shoved his leather chair back, not even caring that his scalding coffee spilled onto his trousers.

Like a beast whose tail had been stepped on, he charged to the main console in a few strides, eyes fixed on the screen that had fallen into absolute silence.

"Sir! Several main military communication cables in the deep waters of the Atlantic and Pacific have been forcibly severed at the physical level by an unknown force!"

The intelligence officer's fingers hammered frantically on the keyboard, his voice warped by extreme fear: "Our direct connection network with overseas bases has completely collapsed... Sir, the eyes of the United States have been blinded!"

Before the director could recover from this earth-shattering turn of events, a deputy director, drenched in sweat, slammed several top-secret battle damage reports onto the console—reports that had been painstakingly transmitted via backup low-frequency satellites.

"Bang!"

"Sir, we have a huge problem!"

The deputy director's face was as pale as a corpse, his lips trembling violently: "The mercenaries of the European old money, the main battle tank clusters of Turkey, the heavy armored units of Saudi Arabia, and even the ocean-going fleet of The Eastern Power... They are all advancing at full speed, launching large-scale armed conflicts against our overseas military bases in those regions!"

"How the hell is this possible?!"

The director grabbed the deputy director by the collar, his roar of anger and terror echoing through the entire hall: "Those good-for-nothing politicians in White House and the Department of Commerce were still meeting half an hour ago to discuss how to peacefully divide the semiconductor market! They even rejected the draft to assassinate Shen Du out of fear of that old man from The Eastern Power's background! Who the hell gave the order to fire?!"

"No one gave the order! But someone utilized our network blind spots to forcibly cut off and forge the instructions. They even turned some low-to-mid-level officers at our overseas bases, causing them to take the initiative to open fire on the European rescue fleet!"

The deputy director's eyes were filled with despair, his voice trembling as he struggled to spit out the truth that would cause the entire United States to plummet into the abyss: "Sir... I don't know which force it is, but they have firmly pinned this shocking scapegoat of shooting down The Eastern Power's private jet and triggering World War III onto us, the United States!"

Hearing this, the man in charge of the world's largest intelligence empire felt the world go black.

His brain was instantly deprived of oxygen, his legs went weak, and he nearly hanged himself on the spot in this command hall buried deep underground.

Less than six hours!

If the United States could not clear its name of this monstrous scapegoat that had fallen from the sky, the North American continent would inevitably be flattened by the enraged global allied forces.

The nuclear button for World War III would be pressed directly!

Washington, White House underground strategic nuclear bunker.

"Connect me to the Pentagon immediately! Drag every general still on vacation out of their beds!"

The supreme leader wasn't even wearing a suit jacket, his tie crooked.

Like a gambler who had lost everything, he screamed hysterically into the encrypted microphone: "Stop worrying about those damn semiconductor agreements and sanction lists! Right now, immediately, issue the highest-level order to prove our innocence!"

The president of this great power, usually so high and mighty, erupted with an unprecedented, even wretched, desire to survive: "Go save him! Dig that young man from The Eastern Power out alive for me! Even if you have to turn over every grain of sand in the Middle East, you must make him appear before the whole world completely unharmed!"

Following the forceful issuance of the supreme order, the massive imperial war machine began to operate with unprecedented violence to "prove its innocence."

Several US carrier strike groups cruising in the Arabian Sea and the Mediterranean immediately sounded a level-one combat alert.

Fire blazed on the decks as countless F-35 fighter jets, dragging ghostly blue exhaust flames, swarmed out like a hornet's nest.

Furthermore, several B-2 stealth bombers and heavy military helicopters hidden in strategic bases ignored all standard requests for international airspace.

They took off immediately in an emergency, rushing at full speed toward Kabul Valley!

Just three minutes after the fighter jets took off, all mainstream news channels and public radio networks across the globe, including the giant electronic screens in Times Square, New York, were forcibly interrupted by the US government after a burst of intense static.

White House press secretary was drenched in sweat, holding his speech notes upside down.

His eyes revealed undisguised terror and urgency.

He issued the most humble national announcement in history to billions of people around the world, his tone almost a roar: "Repeat! This is not a military exercise! This attack in Kabul Valley was absolutely not directed by the US side!"

"All armed forces in the vicinity of the US military have been dispatched! We have initiated the highest-level, indiscriminate search and rescue for the executor of the China-Europe cooperation from The Eastern Power! God is my witness, the United States absolutely did not stab anyone in the back!"

At this moment, Kabul Valley had already become a living hell, completely plowed over by artillery fire.

"Boom! Boom! Boom—!!!"

There was no need for any precision guidance.

The armored torrents and heavy bomber formations of the multinational regular armies launched the most arrogant "dimensionality reduction strike" on this border no-man's-land.

The originally complex and rugged mountain terrain was forcibly leveled by several meters under the saturation carpet bombing of hundreds of large-caliber howitzers and aerial bombs.

The deafening explosions merged into one.

Blinding orange-red fireballs illuminated the originally pitch-black night sky as bright as day.

In this fire-covered zone where friend and foe could no longer be distinguished and everything had descended into madness, bullets and shells poured down like rain that cost nothing.

Those desperadoes and black-market mercenaries, who had been blinded by the sky-high $50 million bounty and came charging into the valley yelling, were already scared out of their wits.

They usually fought local security wars for territory; where had they ever seen this kind of ultimate war formation launched by several superpowers combined?!

When the tens-of-tons-heavy main battle tank groups roared and crushed rocks like steel monsters, and when the dense swarms of armed helicopters in the sky used autocannons to tear the militants hiding behind cover—along with the rocks—into blood mist, all the bounty hunters completely collapsed.

In an instant, any armed personnel not wearing regular military uniforms or clear national insignia became living targets for the indiscriminate slaughter of the multinational coalition.

Just as this one-sided massacre reached a fever pitch, the earth-shaking artillery fire suddenly subsided for a brief moment.

Immediately after, several heavy military helicopters hovered over the valley, and a massive high-power battlefield broadcast array was set up.

A cold warning, carrying absolute intent to kill, was broadcast in several languages, crashing down on the heads of every survivor like rolling thunder: "Everyone listen up! You have been completely surrounded by the multinational coalition! Drop your weapons immediately and abandon all resistance!"

"Listen clearly! If your stupidity causes even the slightest scratch to that distinguished guest from The Eastern Power... you, including your families and your entire clans, will face an indefinite global manhunt! There is absolutely no way out!"

The violent artillery fire triggered a local mountain collapse, kicking up thick dust that almost completely buried the hidden natural cave deep in the valley.

The trio, covered in a thick layer of gray soil and gunpowder smoke, huddled in the deepest corner of the rock wall like three broken stone statues, holding on for dear life.

The carpet bombing outside made even the earth shake violently.

But in this narrow, cramped, dark space, there was a suffocating silence and heavy breathing.

Just as Honorary Vice President Yan Feng bowed his head, thinking that the communicator hanging on his chest—its screen already smashed by stray bullets—was completely broken...

"Crackle—!"

A sharp, clear electronic noise forcibly tore through the theater-level strong electromagnetic interference net that had been completely welded shut by the enemy!

Immediately following, a dignified, standard Mandarin radio wave suddenly exploded from the damaged speaker: "This is the Commander-in-Chief of the Northwest Theater of China! Calling Special Envoy Honorary Vice President Yan Feng, please answer if you receive this! Repeat, please answer if you receive this!"

In this hellish Middle Eastern deadlock, this broadcast in his standard native language was like lightning splitting the long, dark night.

Honorary Vice President Yan Feng jerked his head up, his face, blackened by gunpowder smoke, instantly filled with disbelief and dullness.

Shock slammed into his nerves, which were stretched to their limit.

It even made him wonder for a second if he had lost too much blood and was having some absurd final hallucination.

From the moment the private jet crashed and the signal was completely physically shielded until now, it had been exactly twelve hours.

Honorary Vice President Yan Feng stared fixedly at the communicator in his hand, its green light flashing, his mind a complete blank.

The Northwest Theater Command of China, thousands of miles away, had actually mobilized unimaginable national-level strategic resources.

Crossing thousands of mountains and rivers, they had forcibly cleared and overridden the communication blind spot in this dead zone of the Middle East with an overwhelming, hardcore posture!

Honorary Vice President Yan Feng was still immersed in the huge shock and hadn't recovered.

A hand covered in blood and filth had already reached over from the side, decisively snatching the hot communicator.

Following that arm back, Shen Hong was half-leaning against the riddled rock wall, his expensive bulletproof tactical gear already completely soaked in blood.

A large-caliber stray bullet had hit him in the left arm and another in his lower leg, and the mangled wounds were still oozing dark red blood.

But he ignored these fatal gunshot wounds, which would have been painful enough to cause shock, not even frowning.

Shen Hong gripped the communicator tightly.

His voice, originally clear, was extremely hoarse from the smoke, but his tone was as steady and cold as a rock as always: "This is National Security Special Envoy, codename 696, target is currently safe."

"We are trapped in a rock cave deep in the crossfire zone, please have the commander initiate search and rescue immediately!"

After the brief report, Shen Hong released the talk button.

He didn't tend to his wounds but turned his head to look at Shen Du, who was huddled under the rock wall on the other side.

This twelve-hour hellish escape was simply too stimulating.

No matter how incredible Shen Du's psychological quality was, his body had never undergone professional extreme training.

He was completely exhausted now, his face pale as paper from dehydration and tension.

From the moment he parachuted after the plane crash, his heart rate had never dropped below 120, his chest heaving violently like an old bellows.

But even in this state of collapse, where lifting a finger was difficult, Shen Du's hands, stiff and bloodless, remained locked as if welded, gripping the MP5 submachine gun that had long since run out of its last bullet.

Shen Hong looked at his pale knuckles, no blame or contempt for this rookie's stress reaction flashing in his eyes.

He knew too well what had happened outside.

That stereoscopic slaughter covering the entire range, and the nation-level artillery carpet bombing launched by the multinational coalition to "prove their innocence."

Forget about a young man who had never been on a battlefield; even a top special envoy like Honorary Vice President Yan Feng, who had licked blood on the edge of a knife for many years, had never seen such a formation in his life.

Shen Du had been able to grit his teeth and hold on until now without making a sound, not even dropping his gun; his resilience was already terrifyingly strong.

Listening to the terrifying artillery fire outside that was crushing the mercenaries, Shen Hong slowly leaned his head against the broken, cold rock wall.

His shoulders, which had been tense all night, finally relaxed slightly.

Then he exhaled a breath of turbid air mixed with a strong smell of blood, his voice very soft, yet carrying the relief of a massive burden being lifted: "It's finally over."