118: Chapter 118 Jungle Phantom: A Globally Broadcast "Execution"

The skirmish in the Phakant jungle ended faster and more eerily than expected.

Or rather, this couldn't even be called a battle; it was a unilateral, dimension-reduction-style "disappearance act."

Two hundred heavily armed Kachin Independence Army elites, who prided themselves on being jungle warfare experts, were erased from this world in that seemingly empty dense forest, as if by an invisible eraser.

There was no intense gunfire, no explosive flashes, and even the dying screams were deliberately suppressed in their throats. There were only the occasional "squelch" of sharp blades cutting through flesh and the crisp sound of bones being twisted apart with great force.

The "Shadow Dancer" optical camouflage system, combined with the Intermediate Death Soldiers' superhuman physical fitness, was simply an unsolvable bug in this jungle.

Ten minutes. Only ten minutes.

The jungle returned to a deathly silence, as if nothing had ever happened. Only a faint smell of blood permeated the air.

Mao Wen was trussed up, kneeling in the mud, shivering like a sieve. His night vision goggles had been crushed, but he didn't need them to see the tragic scene around him.

His subordinates' corpses lay scattered in all directions around him, each killed by a single blade, the wounds as precise as if they were the result of surgery. There was no excess blood, no signs of struggle; they didn't even know what the enemy looked like when they died.

And those ghost-like black warriors were silently clearing the battlefield. They took out bottles of a special spray and sprayed it on the bloodstains on the ground. Upon contact with the spray, the blood seemed to decompose and vanish like foam, and even the color of the mud returned to its original state.

"This... what kind of witchcraft is this..." Mao Wen's teeth chattered, his mind on the verge of collapse.

A tall special forces captain walked up to Mao Wen. The full-face mask on his face slid open slowly, revealing a face devoid of expression, with cold, indifferent eyes.

"Go back and tell Gan Shuang and that person from the USA," the captain said in pure Kachin, his voice ice-cold and devoid of any warmth. "The Master says he accepts this 'gift.' As a return gift, we have prepared one for him as well."

Before Mao Wen could react to the meaning of these words, a hard rifle butt smashed heavily into the back of his head.

"Bang!"

Everything went black, and he collapsed to the ground like a dead dog, then was dragged like trash onto an armored vehicle that had just arrived.

...

The next morning, in the capital of Kachin State, Myitkyina.

Gan Shuang and William were still waiting for the "good news" in the command post. The coffee on the table had gone cold, and the ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.

According to the plan, by this time the assault team should have already destroyed the outpost and retreated to a safe zone. William had even thought about how to write the report to his superiors— "Successfully executed a special strike, dealing a heavy blow to the enemy's arrogance."

"Why is there still no news?" Gan Shuang looked at the wall clock; the hour hand was already pointing to eight in the morning. "Communication has been silent? This isn't according to protocol!"

"Don't worry, General," William said, crossing his legs and toying with an exquisite metal lighter, looking completely confident. "Radio silence is standard tactics; it shows your troops have strong discipline. You know the power of the 'Switchblade'; that outpost must be in ruins by now. Maybe they are celebrating on their way back."

Just then, the door to the command post was kicked open, and a communications officer stumbled in, having even lost his military cap. His face was pale as paper, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Commander-in-Chief... Commander-in-Chief! Something happened! Something big happened!" The officer stammered, his voice cracking.

"What are you panicking about! Has the sky fallen?" Gan Shuang slammed the table and scolded, "Did the operation get exposed?"

"No... no..." The officer pointed outside with trembling hands, then pointed to the big-screen TV in the command post. "You... you have to watch the TV! Zhang Cheng's official channel! It's live!"

Gan Shuang and William exchanged glances, both feeling an ominous premonition. William grabbed the remote and turned on the big screen on the wall.

On the screen was the news broadcast signal of the "North Myanmar Joint Autonomous Region."

In the footage, the background was an open space on the outskirts of the Phakant mining area. The morning sun shone on the ground, but it couldn't warm the chilling scene.

The camera slowly zoomed in, revealing two hundred corpses neatly laid out in the open space. Beside each corpse, their weapons, ammunition, and even the identification tags from their pockets were neatly placed on their chests.

This wasn't just showing off the spoils of war; this was a ritual, a suffocating sense of ritual!

At the very front of the pile of corpses stood a huge wooden board, on which a row of bloody, seemingly still-dripping large characters was written in Chinese, Burmese, and English:

Those who offend our territory, no matter how far, shall be punished!

Beside the wooden board knelt a person who had been beaten until he was bruised and swollen, almost unrecognizable. He had a microphone hanging around his neck and was tearfully reading a confession from the paper in his hands.

"I am Mao Wen, captain of the Kachin Independence Army 4th Brigade assault team... I acted under the orders of Commander-in-Chief Gan Shuang and USA advisor William, attempting to sneak attack the Phakant mining area... We brought 'Switchblade' drones... We were wrong! We shouldn't have provoked the divine majesty of the 'Master'... We are sinners..."

"Bastard!!"

Gan Shuang grabbed the teacup on the table and smashed it fiercely at the screen.

"Bang!"

The teacup shattered, tea splashed everywhere, but the image on the screen remained clear, Mao Wen's mournful face seemingly mocking his incompetence.

Gan Shuang's face flushed to the color of a pig's liver; shame, fear, and anger intertwined, making him tremble all over.

How was this news? This was clearly a public execution! It was a slap in the face to him, Gan Shuang, in front of the whole world, and then rubbing his face into the dirt!

William's face also turned extremely ugly, and the lighter in his hand dropped to the floor with a "clatter."

Mao Wen had given up his name!

This meant that the evidence of the USA intervening in the Northern Myanmar conflict and providing offensive weapons was confirmed! Although they were thick-skinned and usually didn't fear accusations, this feeling of being caught in the act by an opponent and publicly humiliated made him, a CIA elite, feel unprecedented shame.

"It's not over yet."

On TV, the footage changed, switching to the press conference hall in Pangkham.

A news spokesperson in a crisp uniform, expressionless, announced to countless flashes in a cold tone:

"In view of the Kachin Independence Army tearing up the truce agreement, openly launching an armed invasion, and colluding with foreign forces to use prohibited weapons, Mr. Zhang Cheng, the highest administrative officer of the North Myanmar Joint Autonomous Region, signed the 'Number One Cleansing Order' ten minutes ago!"

"Effective immediately, our military will conduct 'punitive strikes' against the illegal armed areas occupied by the Kachin Independence Army! This is not an exercise, nor is it a warning, but war!"

"All irrelevant personnel in the Kachin Independence Army controlled area are ordered to evacuate all military facilities within 24 hours. After 24 hours, all consequences will be borne by yourselves!"

"Punitive strikes?" Gan Shuang slumped into his chair, cold sweat running down his forehead, soaking his collar.

He thought of the Wa State from before, thought of the East Shan State, thought of the peers who had vanished into ashes under Zhang Cheng's steel torrent.

"Mr. William! You must help me!" Gan Shuang grabbed William's arm, his nails digging into the flesh, as if grasping at the last straw of life. "You promised! If Zhang Cheng attacks, you will provide air support! And heavy weapons! Give them to me quickly! Give them now!"

William disgustedly shook off his hand, stood up and straightened his collar, pretending to be calm: "Calm down, General. Air support needs time to coordinate, and Zhang Cheng has anti-aircraft missiles; our planes cannot just enter. However..."

His eyes were sinister, and he gritted his teeth and said: "Since he wants to play big, then we will play with him. I will contact the higher-ups immediately, mobilize the Thailand base, and ship a batch of 'big guys' to you. This time, we will make sure he doesn't return!"

Although his words were tough, William had no bottom in his heart. The means Zhang Cheng had displayed, especially the ability to make two hundred people disappear silently last night, was simply hair-raising.

...

At this moment, at the Bangkok Camp.

Zhang Cheng was sitting in his boss chair, looking at the points that had jumped on the system panel due to "deterring hostile forces," the corners of his mouth slightly raised.

[Ding—Triggered 'Deterrence' achievement, obtained points reward: 30,000 points.]

"Old K, is 'Storm' ready?" Zhang Cheng closed the system and turned to ask.

"The First Mechanized Brigade and the Second Mountain Brigade have assembled and are moving to the departure positions. The Army Aviation Brigade's helicopters have also been loaded with ammunition, and fuel resupply is complete." Old K's reply was as precise and efficient as always.

"Very good."

Zhang Cheng stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and cast his gaze to the northwest, which was the direction of Myitkyina.

"Since they want war, then I will give them war. Tell T-01, there is no need to hide anything this time."