Chapter 473 A Shocking Secret That Will Make You Laugh Out Loud

On the other side of the ocean.

In the center of a bustling city, inside that massive building symbolizing the highest military command—the Dead Corner Building.

Inside the brightly lit intelligence analysis center.

Country A was preparing for another grand press conference.

To promote national prestige to the world, the building's publicity department was working around the clock.

On the electronic screens, bombing assessment reports from the Middle East front were scrolling continuously.

Actually, by this time.

After a series of intense bombings targeting that hot spot.

Smith, the senior intelligence officer responsible for the conference coordination and intelligence analysis for Country A, was standing at his desk.

He wasn't cheering or celebrating like the others.

Instead, he was frowning deeply.

Looking at the field reconnaissance images transmitted back via the encrypted network, he had sensed something was wrong.

Smith leaned in to look at the enlarged, high-resolution aerial photos.

These were comparison photos taken before and after the strike aircraft, loaded with precision-guided bombs, dropped their payloads.

In the photos.

Large swaths of the Gobi Desert were blasted with deep craters, scattered with charred marks.

The 'enemy aircraft' originally parked there were completely destroyed.

But...

As a veteran who dealt with various battlefield images all year round, Smith's rigorously trained eyes discovered a loophole that made his back go cold.

Where was the wreckage?

Even if hit directly by a high-explosive warhead weighing hundreds of pounds.

A fighter jet made of steel, titanium alloy, and various composite materials would definitely be torn into countless metal fragments with three-dimensional thickness under the shockwave of the explosion.

The heavy aircraft engines and hard landing gear should have been scattered around the crater.

But in the photos.

Apart from the blown-up yellow sand and a thin layer of unnaturally reflective charred material on the surface.

There was simply no large metal wreckage with mass or volume to be seen.

After realizing this fatal point of doubt.

Smith picked up the black coffee on his desk and took a large gulp, forcing himself to calm down.

He immediately pulled up all the sortie records and ammunition consumption lists of the joint task force from the past few days.

Looking at the long string of numbers, fine beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead.

Shortly after.

In the senior strategic conference room of the Dead Corner Building.

An internal closed-door meeting was being held regarding whether this press conference would proceed as scheduled.

Around the huge oval conference table sat senior officers with stars on their shoulders and politicians.

Intelligence officer Smith stood at the very front of the conference table.

He raised his objections under immense pressure during the internal meeting.

"Gentlemen, I believe this press conference must be postponed."

Smith slammed the file in his hand onto the table, his voice a bit hoarse from nervousness.

"There is a huge logical loophole in our reconnaissance data and damage assessment."

He pressed the remote control in his hand.

On the projection screen behind him, a map of the power distribution in the Middle East appeared.

"After all, how many airports of the various armed organizations led by Hassan have we bombed?"

Smith pointed to the dense bombing marks on the map.

Smith looked around at everyone on both sides of the conference table.

"Gentlemen, please calculate our results from these past three days!"

"One hundred and forty-two fighter jets! Thirty-six bombers!"

"Do these mud-legged people, who have been blockaded for so long, have so many fighter jets?"

As soon as this question was asked.

The entire conference room fell into a brief silence.

Smith took a deep breath:

"This total number is almost catching up to a medium-sized power!"

"If they really possessed such a massive Air Force, how could they have been suppressed by us to the point where they couldn't even lift their heads before?"

"This simply doesn't make sense!"

Smith's words made many officers in the room change their expressions.

Some began to whisper to each other.

Some picked up the battle reports in front of them and re-examined them.

However.

Just when this rational voice was about to gain the upper hand.

The person sitting at the head of the conference table coughed heavily.

It was an old man with iconic blonde hair.

It was the 'Old No-Spectrum' leader from their side.

He scoffed at the intelligence officer's rigorous analysis.

He leaned back in his large, comfortable executive chair, the buttons of his suit stretched tight by his somewhat bloated belly.

As a thorough businessman-politician, he was extremely vain.

In his mind, what the truth was didn't matter at all.

What mattered was what the public believed the truth to be.

Recently, the domestic election situation was critical, and his approval rating had been hovering on the edge of danger.

Those opposition parties were attacking his strategic incompetence in the Middle East on television all day, accusing him of wasting taxpayers' money for nothing.

He desperately needed these dazzling battle achievements to build momentum for his re-election.

This was the only important political capital he could present at the moment.

"Nonsense!!!"

The 'Old No-Spectrum' leader suddenly straightened up, his thick palm slamming onto the tabletop, interrupting the whispering in the conference room.

He pointed his index finger at Smith, who was standing in front.

"This is a glorious victory achieved by our great military!"

"Are you questioning the eyesight of our heroic pilots on the front line?"

The 'Old No-Spectrum' leader's voice was loud, carrying a kind of high-and-mighty arrogance and bullying.

Smith swallowed, wanting to argue on the basis of reason.

"But Mr. Leader, the wreckage characteristics in the photos..."

"Enough!"

The 'Old No-Spectrum' leader waved his hand, rudely interrupting him.

"I don't want to hear this so-called bullshit technical analysis!"

"The media outside is already waiting, and the voters are also expecting to hear good news in front of their TV sets!"

So, even if the military felt that something was not quite right.

And even a few generals looked troubled and wanted to speak out to dissuade him.

But the 'Old No-Spectrum' leader still waved his hand and suppressed all questioning voices.

He issued the final order in a tone that allowed no rebuttal.

"This press conference will be held."

"The results are the results; no one is allowed to change even a single digit!"

"We want the whole world to see the strength of Country A!"

In front of this businessman who placed political interests above the truth, any discussion about military common sense seemed pale and powerless.

Smith could only lower his head helplessly.

Some time later.

Dead Corner Building.

Press conference hall.

In the press conference hall of the Dead Corner Building.

Cameras and microphones stood like a forest.

Various microphones with logos of world-renowned media were densely placed in front of the podium.

The camera lenses were aimed at the closed solid wood door.

The media from various countries had arrived.

Reporters gathered in groups of three or five, talking loudly.

"The numbers in the battle report are astonishing. If this is true, the situation in that region will probably be settled."

"As expected of the world's number one Air Force, this strike efficiency is truly terrifying."

The atmosphere at the scene seemed a bit noisy.

Some Western media reporters close to Country A even had victorious smiles on their faces, seemingly ready with long-winded praises.

And while the media from various countries were anxiously waiting for the press conference to start.

On the right side of the venue.

Sitting in a corner in the front row.

One burly man seemed somewhat out of place with the surrounding environment.

He was wearing a slightly oversized plaid shirt, with broad shoulders and eyes as sharp as an eagle's.

This was a war correspondent from the Big White Bear Country.

At this moment.

He was placing a heavy-duty engineering-grade laptop on his knees.

His gaze was fixed on the screen of the laptop without blinking.

The computer screen displayed several original aerial photos of the bombing at the front line of Country A, which had been intercepted through special means.

Beside it, several professional spectral analysis software and 3D modeling programs were open.

He did not participate in the discussions of his peers around him.

His whole body was trembling slightly with excitement; he was just too excited.

You know.

Their country itself didn't get along with Country A.

On the international geopolitical stage, the two countries had always been in a state of contention.

As a senior war correspondent from the Big White Bear Country, he had once penetrated deep into the hot spots of the Middle East.

He had a fairly clear understanding of the background of Hassan and those armed organizations.

When he first saw the astonishing battle result data released by Country A through internal channels, his first reaction was that this was definitely bragging.

And he.

Relying on his professional sensitivity, he had discovered a trick in the bombing of that hot spot in the Middle East by the joint task force of Country A.

He used his connections to get these high-definition original photos.

Then, he used an image analysis software provided by the Big White Bear Country's military to perform a detailed light and shadow restoration of the bombing scene.

As a result.

He saw a shocking secret that almost made him laugh out loud.

The red analysis curves on the screen clearly showed that those targets hit by bombs, claimed to be the enemy's main fighter jets, did not produce three-dimensional shadows that complied with the laws of 3D physics under the sunlight!

The refractive index at the fracture points of the wreckage also did not match the characteristics of aviation metal at all.

This was simply the biggest military joke of the century!

Looking at the irrefutable analytical data on the screen.

He took a deep breath.

He tidied up the collar of his shirt, which was a bit wrinkled due to his excitement.

He was preparing to throw out his findings as soon as the press conference began.

He would display these processed evidences to the cameras of the whole world without reservation.

He would deal a fatal blow to this arrogant hegemon!

He raised his head.

His gaze pierced through the crowd and stared tightly at the door on the side of the podium.

The doorknob began to turn; the figure of the Country A spokesperson was about to appear.