Chapter 31 "Toys" from the Sky

The Gobi Desert on the border of Middle East and Israel, codenamed "Sea of Death."

The scorching sun baked the earth without obstruction, and the air twisted violently due to the high temperature; the distant sand dunes looked as if they were flowing slowly and ceaselessly. Aside from the sound of the wind, there was no breath of life here.

The ace unit of the Israel Defense Forces, the 6th "iron fist" Armored Brigade, was conducting what they considered a "boring" routine armed patrol across this boundless Gobi.

A dozen or so "merkava" main battle tanks, painted entirely in desert camouflage, advanced slowly in a standard combat formation. Their wide tracks crushed the soft sand, emitting a heavy and rhythmic roar—the only sound in this deathly silent Gobi.

Surrounding them, dozens of equally menacing Namer heavy armored personnel carriers, along with various types of command and communication vehicles, moved in coordination, forming a torrent of steel capable of running roughshod over any corner of the Middle East region.

The Commander of the "iron fist" Brigade, Colonel David, sat comfortably in the leather command seat of the flagship command vehicle, enjoying the powerful air conditioning and leisurely sipping a cup of instant coffee with ice cubes, unearthed from the logistics warehouse.

Through the thick bulletproof observation window, he cast a contemptuous glance at the nearby control zone belonging to Hassan's armed organization, a look of undisguised disdain appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"A bunch of rats that only know how to hide in the sand and take potshots." He pressed the talk button on his communicator and said to his subordinates in a tone so relaxed it was nearly like being on vacation, "Buck up, everyone. Don't let these rats soil our boots. Maintain formation, complete the patrol as planned, and then go back to enjoy ice-cold beer and that new batch of female soldiers at the base."

"Copy that, Colonel! Mission will be accomplished!" A burst of laughter and relaxed responses came over the communication channel.

Inside the turret of one of the "merkava" tanks, several young tankers were even telling dirty jokes over the internal channel, excitedly discussing which city they would go to for fun after this mission ended.

"Hey, Joseph, have you heard? A new club opened in Tel Aviv, and the chicks inside are all from Eastern Europe. They're hot as hell." The loader said, winking while wiping down a shell.

"Forget it. I went there on my last leave; the prices are sky-high, and the chicks aren't even as pretty as my fiancée." Gunner Joseph said with a proud look.

"Hahaha, you kid are showing off your fiancée again! Bring her out next leave so we can meet our sister-in-law!"

To them, this so-called patrol was nothing more than a routine armed parade. The enemy they faced, Hassan's troops, were in their eyes just a mob with AKs. The equipment and training levels of the two sides were not even in the same dimension. In their words, if a firefight really broke out, it wouldn't be called a battle; it would be called target practice.

Right in the midst of this relaxed and arrogant atmosphere, the lookout at the very front of the formation suddenly sounded confused.

"Command, anomaly detected on the horizon ahead. It looks like... it looks like a dark cloud."

Colonel David, who was discussing what to have for dinner with his adjutant, frowned and took a sip of coffee: "A dark cloud? Wasn't the weather forecast for today clear skies? Did those idiots in the meteorological department mess up again?"

"Yes, sir. But this cloud... it's moving very fast, and the shape is very strange. It's a dense, dark mass, and it doesn't look natural." There was a hint of uncertainty in the lookout's voice.

The radar operator inside the command vehicle immediately reported: "Reporting, Colonel, our radar shows no response! The airspace is clear! I repeat, there is nothing on the radar screen!"

"No radar response?" Colonel David put down his coffee cup, a flash of ominous premonition crossing his mind. He picked up his high-powered military binoculars and looked in the direction the lookout had pointed.

At that glance, his pupils instantly contracted to the size of pinpricks.

That was no dark cloud at all!

It was a terrifying cloud formation, gathered from thousands of tiny black specks, constantly writhing and changing shape in the air! They were like a swarm of locusts, or a living, breathing entity, sweeping toward their torrent of steel at an incredible speed!

'What is that thing?' This thought surfaced in his mind.

In the moment he was stunned, the "cloud" had already crossed the vast distance and was upon them. Through the field of view of the binoculars, he could even see the true face of those black specks—they were palm-sized, bizarrely shaped black aircraft!

"Enemy attack! All units, pay attention! It's drones! It's a drone swarm!" Colonel David finally reacted, the color draining from his face instantly. He grabbed the communicator and roared with all his might.

A shrill alarm instantly rang out across the entire armored brigade's communication channel.

The smiles on the faces of the soldiers who had just been telling dirty jokes instantly froze, replaced by panic and bewilderment.

"Fire! Fire! Use the anti-aircraft machine guns! Use the coaxial machine guns! Shoot them down!"

"Bang, bang, bang! Rat-tat-tat!"

The vehicle-mounted anti-aircraft machine guns and coaxial machine guns began to uselessly spit tongues of fire at the sky. The dense rain of bullets, facing that "dark cloud" that blotted out the sky, was like throwing a few stones into the ocean; it couldn't even stir up a ripple.

Panic spread through the soldiers' hearts like a virus.

Because they discovered that those thousands of drones were not charging around like headless flies. They were flying at high speed, yet maintaining perfect distances from each other, their movements uniform and synchronized, like a living organism with an independent will. The machine gun trajectories seemed incredibly clumsy before them; they could always anticipate in advance and nimbly dodge at mind-boggling angles.

Following that, a more terrifying scene occurred.

That massive swarm, upon arriving above the armored brigade, did not pause for a second and instantly dispersed!

They perfectly executed the roll-call tactics from Li Jiajun's "teaching course."

Hundreds of drones descended from the sky at an extremely tricky angle, almost perpendicular to the ground, with a sharp whistling sound, slamming fiercely into the weakest top armor of the "merkava" tanks.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A series of dense explosions rang out almost simultaneously. Those main battle tanks, touted as the best protected in the world with impregnable frontal armor, had their turret hatches easily blown off and torn apart by immense forces. Orange-red flames mixed with black smoke spewed from within, and they quickly turned into burning steel coffins.

Another portion of the drones targeted the command and communication vehicles with complex antennas. Like the most precise surgical scalpels, they accurately struck the "brain" and "nerves" of the armored brigade. Amidst the explosions, these vehicles instantly turned into piles of burning scrap metal, and the entire brigade's communication and command systems were completely paralyzed within seconds.

Still other drones, in a suicidal posture, dove directly into the dark, gaping barrels of the self-propelled artillery that were preparing to fire!

A deafening explosion came from inside the barrel, and the entire artillery piece was blown to pieces; the turret was lifted high and fell while tumbling in the air.

The sound of explosions, the sound of metal being torn apart, and the screams of soldiers before death rang out across the entire Gobi.

The expensive "merkava" tanks, in front of these "toys" that might only cost a few hundred ugly yuan, appeared so fragile, so vulnerable.

This was a one-sided, suspense-free massacre.

The flagship command vehicle where Colonel David was located was among the first batch of targets specially taken care of. The violent explosion threw him from his seat, and he slammed heavily against the bulkhead, feeling as if his internal organs had been shifted. Warm coffee and cold blood mixed together, streaming all over his face.

In the last moment before his consciousness plunged into darkness, he looked through the broken observation window and saw the black swarm that blotted out the sky, like messengers from hell, coldly and efficiently harvesting the lives of the soldiers he was so proud of.

'That is not war...' The last thought flashed through his mind, 'This is... a crushing...'