163: Chapter 163 Nuclear Weapon Gamble and the Brink of Siege

"Give him some drone support and intelligence sharing," Miller said, "but tell him clearly: US ground forces will not enter the Naypyidaw city limits. We can provide air cover and artillery support, but urban warfare... he's on his own."

It was a cruel but realistic decision. Having experienced the crushing defeat at Meiktila, Miller would never allow his soldiers to fight another losing urban battle.

Moreover, Naypyidaw was now a trap—Min Aung Hlaing was using civilians as human shields, a tactic that the international community already viewed as a war crime. If the US military got involved, they would be stained with an indelible infamy.

"Let Min Aung Hlaing and Zhang Cheng wear each other down," Miller muttered. "When they are both exhausted... that might be the time for us to step in and reap the harvest."

Northern suburbs of Naypyidaw, the forward position of Zhang Cheng's forces.

At six in the morning, a thin mist shrouded the plains. Chen Feng stood on the turret of Tank No. 017, observing the silhouette of the city to the south through his binoculars. The buildings of Naypyidaw loomed in and out of the morning fog like a giant beast crouching on the horizon.

"There were small-scale harassments from the Myanmar Army last night, but they were all repelled," the deputy regimental commander reported. "According to drone reconnaissance, the outer defensive lines of Naypyidaw are being reinforced. They've laid a large number of landmines on the main roads and have half-buried some old tanks in the soil to serve as fixed turrets."

"The struggle of a cornered beast," Chen Feng commented. "Order the battalions to deploy as planned. Battalion A will flank from the east, Battalion B will conduct a feint from the front, and Battalion C will lead the main assault from the west—the defenses there are relatively weak."

"Yes, sir."

As the orders were issued, the more than one hundred and thirty tanks of the Titan Division began to split up. But just then, a warning suddenly crackled over the communication channel.

"Aerial targets detected! Distance 150 kilometers, altitude 10,000 meters, speed Mach 0.9! Identified as... B-1B bombers! Six of them!"

"Air defense units, prepare for combat!"

"Sky Dome System, full power!"

The piercing alarm echoed throughout the position. Soldiers quickly entered air-raid shelters, tanks and armored vehicles began releasing smoke screens, and the radar antennas of the air defense missile battalion rotated rapidly.

But the expected bombing did not come.

The six B-1Bs suddenly turned when they were still a hundred kilometers from the position, flying along a course parallel to the front line. They neither approached nor retreated, as if flaunting their presence or acting as a deterrent.

Immediately after, an electronically synthesized male English voice suddenly rang out on the public communication channel:

"Zhang Cheng forces, this is the USA Air Force. You have entered a no-fly zone designated by us. Please cease all military operations immediately and withdraw north of Meiktila. Repeat, please withdraw immediately."

"If you continue to advance, it will be regarded as a hostile act against the USA and its allies. Our side reserves the right to use all necessary means to counterattack, including but not limited to strategic strikes."

The voice was cold, carrying an obvious threatening tone.

More crucially, the phrase 'all necessary means'—in military terminology, this usually included the nuclear option.

A dead silence fell over the position. Many soldiers had uneasy expressions on their faces—they weren't afraid of fighting the Myanmar Army or even regular US forces, but if it were nuclear weapons...

In the command vehicle, Zhang Cheng stared at the six dots of light on the radar screen and smiled.

"Bluffing."

"But they do have nuclear capabilities," Old K reminded him.

"But they don't dare use them," Zhang Cheng said with certainty. "Using nuclear weapons against Myanmar? Then the USA would truly become the enemy of the whole world. The United Nations would condemn it, NATO might dissolve, and even their closest allies would drift away. No matter how crazy Golden Hair Pu is, he wouldn't dare take this risk."

He picked up the communicator and switched to the public channel:

"USA Air Force, this is Zhang Cheng. First, Myanmar is a sovereign nation; you have no right to designate any no-fly zone here. Second, if you truly have the guts to use 'all necessary means,' then go ahead. I guarantee that for every missile you fire, I will return it a hundredfold—and not necessarily back to Myanmar."

He paused, his voice turning cold:

"Finally, send a message to your President: don't use nuclear weapons to scare people. I have them, you have them, everyone has them. If it really comes to a fight, it's not certain who will die first. But if you dare use a single tactical nuke in Myanmar, I'll dare return ten to Guam, Okinawa, or even the West Coast."

"Don't ask where my nukes came from. You guess."

The communication was cut off.

Zhang Cheng put down the microphone and smiled at the stunned Zhao Yuxun and the others. "Scaring people, who doesn't know how to do that?"

"Sovereign, do we... really have nuclear weapons?" Lei Zhen asked cautiously.

"Not right now," Zhang Cheng said honestly. "But they're definitely in the system mall, it's just that the price is ridiculously expensive and I can't afford them yet. However, the Americans don't know that—they can't even figure out the source of my technology, how would they dare gamble on whether I have nukes?"

This was the advantage of information asymmetry. Zhang Cheng had a source of technology behind him that they couldn't understand, which gave all his deterrents credibility—what if he really did have them?

Sure enough, five minutes later, the six B-1Bs turned around and headed back.

Clearly, Zhang Cheng's response had been relayed back to Washington, and the decision-makers there... didn't dare gamble.

"Alright, the farce is over," Zhang Cheng clapped his hands. "Order the troops to attack as planned. Before sunset today, I want to see the outer defensive lines of Naypyidaw completely torn open."

The steel torrent set in motion once again.

This time, there were no more obstructions.

At nine in the morning, the general offensive began.

The rocket launchers and self-propelled artillery of the Thor Brigade spoke first, conducting a thirty-minute saturation bombardment of the Myanmar Army's outer defenses. Shells fell like raindrops, blowing concrete fortifications to pieces, detonating minefields in advance, and turning those half-buried tanks into scrap metal.

As soon as the shelling stopped, the tank clusters launched their charge.

More than one hundred and thirty M1A2s formed three massive wedge formations, charging toward the enemy positions at fifty kilometers per hour. The Myanmar Army's resistance was weak—most of the defenders had been killed, wounded, or scattered during the shelling, and those who remained were terrified by the momentum of the tanks.

Occasionally, anti-tank missiles were fired, but they were all intercepted by the active protection systems. Occasionally, surviving machine gun nests opened fire, but the bullets hitting the tank armor were like an itch being scratched.

By eleven in the morning, the outer defensive lines had completely collapsed.

At the cost of losing three tanks, eleven armored vehicles, and fewer than a hundred casualties, Zhang Cheng's forces crushed the defenses of two Myanmar Army divisions, with enemy casualties estimated to exceed five thousand and over three thousand taken prisoner.

The front line advanced to a position only five kilometers from the Naypyidaw city limits.

From here, the city's buildings were clearly visible, and even the flags of the Myanmar Army on top of some high-rise buildings could be seen.

What was even clearer were the civilians being driven onto the streets—images sent back by drones showed tens of thousands of civilians being forced by the Myanmar Army at gunpoint to gather on several main roads into the city.

They held up white strips of cloth with "Don't shoot" and "We are civilians" written on them in Burmese.