150: Chapter 150 The Broken "Dark Blade"

"It's very likely. They may have detected our reconnaissance, or… are preparing some big move."

Carter's eyes sharpened: "General, this is our chance. If they have truly switched to electronic silence, then our infiltration units will be even safer. I request immediate approval for Operation 'Dark Blade'."

Miller looked at the sand table, then at Carter's determined eyes, and finally nodded: "Approved. Rangers 1st and 3rd Battalions, depart at midnight tonight and infiltrate the enemy's rear. Targets: fuel storage points, ammunition depots, and command nodes."

"Yes, sir!" Carter stood at attention, saluted, turned, and strode away.

Miller looked back at the sand table, a cold smile curling the corner of his mouth.

Zhang Cheng, you have high technology, but I have the world's most elite special forces. Let's see whose blade is faster.

Fifteen kilometers north of Meiktila, the temporary camp of Zhang Cheng's troops.

The night grew deeper, and most of the lights in the camp had been extinguished, with only a few patrolling soldiers and mechanical dogs prowling in the darkness. On the surface, this was a unit exhausted after a long march, in urgent need of rest.

But in the hidden command post three meters underground, it was a completely different scene.

"Master, abnormal signals detected." Old K stared at the spectrum monitoring screen. "The US military command center has established encrypted communication links with two units. The frequency hopping is very fast, but the 'Vega' system still captured the keywords—'Dark Blade', 'infiltration', 'logistics node'."

Zhang Cheng smiled: "They took the bait, as expected. Order the 'Shadow Blade' detachment to act according to the plan. Remember, let them in, and wait until they start their move before closing the net."

"Yes." Night Owl's hoarse voice came through the communicator. "The Rangers' infiltration route has been locked. They split into two teams five kilometers west of the city, each with about 120 men, well-equipped."

"Treat them well," Zhang Cheng said indifferently. "Let the US military see what 'transparency' in a modern battlefield really means."

The order was given, and an invisible net quietly spread open.

West of Meiktila, an abandoned rubber plantation.

Soldiers of Company A, 3rd Battalion, Rangers moved like ghosts through the woods. They wore the latest "Scorpion" camouflage combat uniforms, their faces painted with greasepaint, equipped with M4A1 carbines fitted with silencers and AN/PVS-31 night vision goggles.

Company Commander Captain Davis crouched behind a rubber tree, observing the front with thermal imaging binoculars. On the screen, the camp of Zhang Cheng's troops was clearly visible—tents, vehicles, and even a few patrolling soldiers; everything appeared so normal.

"It's too quiet," the deputy company commander whispered. "Their patrol intervals are very regular, just like they're going through the motions."

"New recruit units are all like this." Davis dismissed it. "Zhang Cheng's troops expanded too quickly, and their training can't keep up. His elite Death Soldiers must all be on the front lines, and the logistics units are just there to make up the numbers."

He opened his tactical tablet and brought up the mission map: "Our target is Fuel Storage Point 3, four kilometers from here. According to the plan, Company B will simultaneously attack the ammunition depot. Once successful, we will rendezvous at the extraction point."

"What if we encounter resistance?"

"Kill without mercy. But try to avoid a firefight; our mission is sabotage, not combat."

The unit continued to advance, passing through the rubber plantation silently, crossing a dry irrigation ditch, and approaching an area stacked with oil tanks.

By the moonlight, Davis could see at least fifty large oil tanks neatly arranged, with several tanker trucks parked nearby, and only two sentries patrolling lazily.

"Perfect." He made a few hand signals, and the Rangers split into four groups, approaching from different directions.

The first group took out the sentries with tranquilizer crossbows, the second group installed explosives, the third group stood guard, and the fourth group prepared for extraction. The entire process was smooth and fluid, demonstrating the professional caliber of world-class special forces.

Davis looked at the countdown timer—three minutes, enough for them to finish installing the explosives and retreat to a safe distance.

Two minutes and fifty seconds, all explosives were installed.

"Withdraw!" he whispered.

The unit retreated rapidly, pulling back to the woods three hundred meters away. Davis pressed the detonator—

Nothing happened.

He froze for a moment, then pressed it again.

Still no response.

"What's going on?" the deputy company commander asked.

"The remote signal is being jammed." Davis's face changed. "Retreat! Retreat immediately!"

But it was already too late.

The surrounding woods suddenly lit up with blinding searchlights! Dozens of high-power floodlights illuminated the area as if it were daylight. Immediately after, the sound of rotors came from the air—not helicopters, but hundreds of quadcopter drones, each equipped with cameras and... machine guns.

"Gentlemen of the Rangers, good evening." A voice processed through a voice changer came through the loudspeaker. "Thank you for coming in person to install the explosives; you've saved us quite a bit of trouble."

Davis looked up and saw the lids of those oil tanks suddenly open automatically, revealing them to be empty inside.

"Fakes?!" His pupils constricted.

"Of course. The real fuel storage point is five kilometers away, guarded by heavy troops." The voice carried a mocking tone. "As for the explosives you installed... they have been 'amicably removed' by our engineers."

Davis gritted his teeth: "All units break out! Move toward Company B!"

"Sorry, the situation over at Company B... is about the same."

As soon as the voice finished speaking, intense gunfire and explosions erupted two kilometers to the east, but they lasted less than a minute before falling silent.

The Rangers formed a circle back-to-back, their muzzles aimed in all directions. But the enemy did not appear at all—only those drones hovered in the air, their machine gun barrels coldly pointed at them.

"Drop your weapons and surrender," the voice said. "We guarantee that we will provide prisoner-of-war treatment in accordance with the Geneva Convention. Those who resist will be killed without mercy."

Davis looked at the at least one hundred drones around him, then at his own hundred-plus men, knowing the possibility of breaking out was zero.

But he was unwilling to give up.

As a Ranger, surrender was a disgrace.

"Brothers, we are Rangers!" he roared. "Rangers, lead the way!"

"Lead the way!" the soldiers responded in unison, preparing for a final charge.

Just then, the ground suddenly shook.

From the surrounding woods, more than twenty "iron centipede" robots emerged. These steel monsters lined up in a semicircle, their machine guns and grenade launchers all aimed at the Rangers.

"This is your last warning." The voice turned cold. "Drop your weapons, or become corpses. Choose; you have ten seconds."

Davis looked at that cold steel, then at the young faces of his soldiers, and finally slumped, putting down his gun.

"Drop your weapons... we surrender."

The Rangers looked at each other, and in the end, one by one, they threw away the guns in their hands.

The drones lowered ropes, and the mechanical dogs stepped forward to confiscate the weapons. The entire process was efficient and cold, without a single wasted movement.

As Davis was being led away, he looked back at the fake oil tanks, a deep sense of powerlessness welling up in his heart.

This battle... hadn't even begun, and it was already lost.