161: What happened? Was it an earthquake?

Now, with the mastermind arrested, national unity seemed to be within reach.

However, where there was joy, there was also fury.

U.S. Military Base in Bolivia.

In the operations command room, Colonel John Worden stared intensely at Pedro's smug face on the screen.

When the photo of Zia Jackson's arrest appeared, he could no longer control his rage.

“Bang!”

A mug full of coffee was violently smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces.

Brown liquid streamed down the wall, leaving a dirty stain.

“Idiot! Fool! Useless!”

Warden trembled with rage, veins bulging on his neck.

He pointed at Zia's face on the screen and cursed.

“I told him to retreat! To preserve his strength! Did he just ignore my words?!”

“Who does he think he is? A God of War? With his ragtag bunch, he thought he could go head-to-head with a regular army?”

“Is his brain filled with shit?!”

The other U.S. military officers in the command room were silent, not daring to breathe.

They all knew that Zia Jackson was a proxy personally groomed by the Colonel.

To support him, the U.S. side had provided a large amount of funds, advanced weapons and equipment, and even military advisors.

Now, Zia's capture meant that all their investments had gone down the drain.

This was not just a loss of money and equipment, but a severe blow to American influence in South America.

“Damn it!”

Warden kicked over a nearby chair, his chest heaving violently.

“He handed over all those ‘good things’ we provided to the enemy! This idiot doesn't deserve to die even ten thousand times!”

He knew that the American-made equipment confiscated along with Zia Jackson,

would become the most powerful evidence for the Bolivian Provisional Government to accuse the United States of interfering in its internal affairs.

Now, they had completely lost face.

While Warden was fuming, the National Defense Force's mop-up operation was already in full swing.

As news of Zia Jackson's arrest spread across the front lines, the morale of the rebels instantly collapsed.

They were leaderless, and their internal organization was in chaos.

Some wanted to make a last stand, some wanted to flee with their treasures, and even more had completely lost their will to fight amidst the confusion.

The National Defense Force's armored units and infantry advanced from all directions towards the remaining rebel strongholds in Potosí City.

Through loudspeakers, surrender announcements were played repeatedly.

“Zia Jackson has been captured alive! Your resistance is meaningless!”

“Lay down your weapons! Surrender immediately! The government will treat you leniently!”

Facing the dark muzzles of cannons and an endless line of Soldiers,

the rebel Soldiers, whose psychological defenses had long collapsed, began to throw away their weapons in droves.

They raised their hands, walked out of their hiding buildings, and knelt on the ground, awaiting incorporation.

Only a few die-hards continued to resist sporadically, but they were quickly overwhelmed by the National Defense Force's superior firepower.

In less than half a day, the gunfire in Potosí City completely ceased.

The city, which had been occupied by rebels for several months, was finally completely taken.

Immediately after, came the reckoning of war criminals within the city and the confiscation of rebel wealth.

Soldiers stormed into the mansions of rebel leaders and unearthed mountains of gold bars, U.S. dollars, and various rare treasures from their basements.

These were all ill-gotten gains extorted from the people.

Now, they had all become spoils of war for the Provisional Government.

National Defense Force General Staff Headquarters.

An encrypted top-secret directive was directly delivered to the desk of Theodore, Commander of the First Armored Brigade.

Theodore, as a direct subordinate personally promoted by David, was one of the youngest Brigade Commanders in the National Defense Force.

After reading the contents of the directive, he was completely stunned.

He instinctively rubbed his eyes, thinking he had misread it.

The text on the directive was short and clear.

“Order: National Defense Force First Armored Brigade, full personnel and equipment.”

“Immediately proceed to the U.S. Military Base in Bolivia. Complete the strategic encirclement of the base.”

“Mission requirements: Block all entrances and exits of the base, prohibit any personnel or vehicles from entering or exiting.”

“Operation Code Name: Beating the Mountain to Shake the Tiger.”

Theodore's hand, holding the order, trembled slightly.

He took a deep breath, picked up the secure phone on his desk, and directly dialed the General Staff Headquarters' number.

On the other end of the line, a familiar voice came through.

“Theodore, did you receive the order?”

“Received, sir.” Theodore steadied himself and asked in a deep voice.

“I'd like to confirm, is this order... serious?”

“Do you think the General Staff Headquarters would joke with you?”

“But, sir, that's a U.S. military base! If we do this, it will cause serious diplomatic disputes, and even... war!”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.

Then, an even colder voice sounded.

“Brigade Commander Theodore, this is the Boss's personal instruction.”

“Execute the order.”

Hearing the words “the Boss,” all of Theodore's doubts and shock instantly transformed into absolute obedience.

He knew who this “Boss” was.

And he knew that this man's will was not to be questioned by anyone.

“Yes, sir! Mission assured!”

Theodore abruptly hung up the phone, his eyes becoming incredibly resolute.

He pressed the emergency button on the command console.

“Order! First Armored Brigade, emergency assembly for all personnel! All tanks, armored vehicles, self-propelled artillery, full fuel, live ammunition loaded!”

“In five minutes, I want to see you at the base gate!”

“This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!”

The entire First Armored Brigade's barracks was instantly activated by his roar.

Piercing alarms blared across the sky.

Countless Soldiers rushed out of their barracks, quickly donned their equipment, and ran to their battle stations.

The garage doors roared open.

TP-3 Infantry Fighting Vehicles let out deafening roars.

Like awakened steel beasts, they slowly drove out of the garage.

Their tracks ground against the concrete, emitting a teeth-grinding screech.

In just a few minutes, a massive torrent of steel had assembled on the open ground outside the barracks.

Theodore jumped into a command vehicle, grabbed the communicator, and issued a brief order.

“Target, the U.S. military base in the suburbs!”

“Move out!”

“Rumble—”

A long steel dragon composed of hundreds of tanks and armored vehicles,

kicked up dust into the sky, majestically crushing its way towards the U.S. military base.

At the gate of the U.S. military base.

Two American GIs on guard duty were idly leaning against sandbags, chatting.

Suddenly, one of the Soldiers felt the ground vibrating slightly.

“Hey, did you feel that? What's going on? An earthquake?”

The other Soldier listened carefully, and his face instantly changed.

“No... this isn't an earthquake!”

“Listen to that sound! It's tracks! It's tanks! Damn it, it's a tank formation!”

Both men abruptly straightened up and looked into the distance.

On the horizon, dust billowed, and a massive armored force was charging directly towards the base gate with unstoppable momentum.

Under the sunlight, the dark muzzles of the cannons gleamed with a chilling light that made hearts pound.

“My God!”

“Quick! Sound the alarm! Enemy attack! Enemy attack!”

The piercing alarm finally blared within the U.S. military base.

Colonel John Warden, who was pacing back and forth in the command room in a fit of rage, was startled by the sudden alarm.

“What's going on?!”

A communications Soldier stumbled in, his voice distorted.

“Colonel! It's bad! The base is surrounded!”

“Surrounded by whom? The rebels? Do they still have the guts?” Warden grabbed his collar.