120: Chapter 120 Catching a turtle in a jar, unexpectedly catching a "big fish"

On the mountain dirt road leading from Myitkyina to the China-Myanmar border, a mud-covered jeep draped in camouflage netting was jolting wildly like a startled wild rabbit.

Mud kicked up by the wheels was splattered everywhere, and the engine let out a strained roar.

William was drenched in sweat, his expensive tactical vest long since soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to his body. One hand gripped the roof handle so hard his knuckles turned white, while the other clutched a maritime satellite phone. He roared into the mouthpiece, spittle splattering across the windshield:

"Where are the helicopters?! Where the hell is the extraction team?! FUCK! I'm about to be surrounded! Damn it, these yellow monkeys are advancing too fast! This makes no sense at all!"

A helpless reply laced with static came from the other end: "Hold on, William. The extraction team, code-named 'Vulture,' is on its way. But the airspace near the border is sensitive; China's radars are watching at full power. We can't fly too low..."

"I don't care about any radars! I want to live! If I die, none of you will have it easy!" William slammed the phone down, smashing the tens of thousands of dollars worth of satellite phone onto the dashboard in a rage, the screen shattering instantly.

The two bodyguards beside him were also tense, their MP5 submachine guns pointed out the windows, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest movement.

"Boss, the mountain pass is just ahead. Once we pass it, we're only five kilometers from the border..." Before the driver could finish, a sudden change occurred!

"Boom!"

A deafening explosion erupted ten meters in front of the car!

An RPG rocket hit the road precisely. The massive shockwave, mixed with gravel and mud, acted like an invisible giant hand, flipping the two-ton jeep directly into a deep ditch by the roadside.

William felt the world spinning; everything seemed upside down. The moment the airbag deployed, it slammed into his face. A sharp pain shot through his nose, and warm liquid flowed from his nostrils.

"Cough, cough... Damn it..."

Dazed and disoriented, he struggled to crawl out of the mangled cabin. His forehead was cut by broken glass, and blood blurred his vision. He wiped his face haphazardly, and as he looked up, his pupils constricted to pinpoints.

On the road above the ditch, several sci-fi-looking wheeled infantry fighting vehicles painted in digital camouflage had blocked the way.

It was Zhang Cheng's "Iron Fist" combat vehicles!

Atop the vehicles, the dark muzzles of 30mm autocannons looked down coldly at him, like the eyes of the Grim Reaper.

"Clatter—"

The doors opened, and a group of soldiers in black combat gear, tactical helmets, and masks jumped out. Their movements were as agile as leopards, their tactical coordination seamless, instantly forming an airtight encirclement.

The two bodyguards beside William were about to raise their guns to resist when several red laser dots locked onto their foreheads.

"Don't move if you don't want to be turned into a sieve."

A cold voice shouted in fluent English.

The two bodyguards knew what they were dealing with. They glanced at each other and straightforwardly dropped their guns, raising their hands.

Seeing the situation was hopeless, William felt intense hatred, but his will to survive won out. He raised his hands and shouted loudly, trying to use diplomatic rhetoric to save his life:

"Don't... don't shoot! I am a citizen of the USA! I am a diplomat! I have diplomatic immunity! You can't touch me!"

However, the other side didn't buy it at all.

A burly officer with a golden lightning bolt patch on his arm stepped forward. He kicked William, who was trying to stand up, back to the ground. His combat boot stepped hard on William's chest; the immense force made William feel like his ribs were about to break.

"Diplomat?" The officer sneered, his mockery evident even through the mask. "This is a battlefield. There are no diplomats here, only prisoners of war and corpses. Since you're not dead, you're a prisoner."

"I want to see your commander! I want to see Zhang Cheng! This isn't just war; this is an international dispute!" William shouted, struggling desperately like a duck being stepped on by its neck.

"You'll see him." The officer waved his hand. "Take him away! And don't leave a single piece of paper, computer, or encrypted hard drive from the car! These are gifts for the USA's funeral!"

...

Inside Myitkyina, the battle was nearing its end.

The once-arrogant Commander-in-Chief of the Kachin Independence Army, Gan Shuang, ultimately failed to escape. He was tied up like a zongzi by a group of angry, retreating soldiers and delivered to Zhang Cheng's vanguard in hopes of lenient treatment.

When the "Black Hawk" helicopter carrying Zhang Cheng slowly landed in the central plaza of Myitkyina, the former capital of Kachin State had changed hands. Black flags of the "North Myanmar Joint Autonomous Region" were planted all over the city, snapping in the wind.

The T-01 Brigade Commander, an Advanced Death Soldier who functioned like a precision machine, stepped forward and gave a standard military salute, his voice resonant:

"Reporting to the Sovereign! Myitkyina is under complete control! In this battle, over 1,200 enemies were killed and over 5,000 captured. Countless supplies have been seized! Our casualties are negligible!"

"Very good." Zhang Cheng stepped off the helicopter, his leather boots making a crisp sound on the gravel ground. He looked around and nodded with satisfaction. "Where is that USA advisor?"

"Captured. He's on his way here. Also..." T-01 stepped aside and waved his hand. "There's an unexpected harvest you might be interested in."

Several soldiers escorted two men over.

One was a disheveled, battered William, looking dejected and lacking any trace of his former CIA elite persona.

The other was a middle-aged Asian man in civilian clothes, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and looking quite refined.

"Who is this?" Zhang Cheng's gaze fell on the man, his brows arching slightly.

"After intelligence screening, this person is named Kenichi Yamamoto." T-01 handed over a confiscated ID and several interrogation records. "His surface identity is a Japanese geological exploration expert, but in reality..."

T-01 paused, a hint of coldness in his tone. "He is a senior agent of the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office of Japan, code-named 'Mole.' He has been lurking in Kachin State for a long time, specifically responsible for exploring and gathering intelligence on rare earth minerals on China's southwestern border and secretly funding anti-China armed forces."

After hearing this, a playful smile appeared on Zhang Cheng's lips.

"Well, well, a clean sweep. Not only did we catch the USA's dog, but we also snagged a oil-stealing Japanese chicken along with it."

He walked up to William and looked at this USA fellow who had been described as almost mythical in the intelligence reports.

"Mr. William, welcome to Northern Myanmar as a guest." Zhang Cheng said calmly, his tone unreadable. "I heard you prepared quite a few 'gifts' for me? Switchblades? Jammers? A pity none of them were delivered."

William gritted his teeth and looked up at Zhang Cheng with a fierce glare. "Zhang Cheng, you're playing with fire! Detaining a USA official will bring the most severe retaliation! The Fifth Fleet is already in the Indian Ocean! At this very moment, tomahawk missiles might already be locked onto your head!"

"Retaliation?" Zhang Cheng burst into laughter, his voice filled with disdain and arrogance. "Who do you think you are? The President's illegitimate son? Do you think the USA would go to full-scale war with me over a failed, embarrassing spy like you? Stop dreaming."

Zhang Cheng leaned down and patted William's dusty cheek. "In their eyes, you're just a burden now, a 'non-existent person.' They might even be thinking about how to silence you right now."

William's face instantly turned pale; he knew Zhang Cheng was telling the truth.

Zhang Cheng stood up and stopped looking at him, turning instead to the Japanese man, Kenichi Yamamoto.

"As for this one..." Zhang Cheng's eyes turned cold. "Stealing things right at my doorstep? Rare earths? That's China's lifeblood and my cash cow. You dared to touch them?"

Kenichi Yamamoto trembled and lowered his head, not daring to speak.

"Keep a close eye on these two." Zhang Cheng said to Old K behind him. "These are excellent 'bargaining chips' for our negotiations with certain people. China will definitely be very interested in this Japanese man. As for this USA fellow... keep him for now, drain every bit of intelligence from his brain, and then handle him according to my mood."

"As for Gan Shuang..."

Zhang Cheng glanced at Gan Shuang, who was kneeling in the distance, shivering so hard he had wet his pants.

"Public trial."

Zhang Cheng spat out two words, brimming with killing intent. "Let the people of Kachin see who brought the flames of war to their homeland and who acted as a dog for outsiders for their own selfish interests! Keeping such a traitor is a waste of food."

"Yes!" Old K took the order.

With the fall of Myitkyina, the threat from the northwest was completely eliminated. Zhang Cheng's territory expanded westward once again, directly bordering India and opening up strategic depth.

More importantly, the large amount of American equipment seized and the "special personnel" captured in this operation gave Zhang Cheng more flexibility with the cards in his hand.

Upon learning of the capture of the Japanese spy and the CIA advisor, China immediately sent a congratulatory message via an encrypted line, expressing "high concern" and a desire to "extradite" the relevant personnel for "in-depth exchange." In return, China promised to add two large-scale hydroelectric power plant projects and a high-grade highway leading to Myitkyina in the upcoming infrastructure aid.

Zhang Cheng naturally agreed readily. This kind of favor not only gained more goodwill and support from China but also allowed him to throw away these two hot potatoes. Why not?

Of course, before handing them over, Old K wouldn't waste a single bit of intelligence that could be squeezed out. The methods in the interrogation room were enough to make them confess everything, right down to wetting the bed as children.