167: Chapter 167 Capturing the Presidential Palace, A New Era Begins

He paused: "Failure to break in is not an option. Because you are the best soldiers I have ever led, because we have the best equipment, and even more so—because we represent the rebirth of this nation."

"Now I order: the general offensive begins. Armored units, breakthrough from the front. Mechanized infantry, outflank on both wings. Artillery, conduct rolling barrage fire according to plan. Remember our principle—try to protect civilians, but for enemies with guns, kill without mercy."

"For the Sovereign! For the New Myanmar!"

A response like a mountain roar and a tsunami came through the radio.

At 6:05 AM, seventy M1A2s started their engines simultaneously, and the steel torrent surged once again. This time, their target was the highest center of power in Myanmar.

Third basement level of the Presidential Palace, top-secret command center.

Min Aung Hlaing finally sensed something was wrong.

"Why is all communication with the North District cut off? Where is the Artillery Command Post? Where is the 77th Division headquarters?" he roared at the communications officer, "Get me through! Now!"

"General... none of the lines are responding. Even satellite phones won't go through; it seems... it seems they're being jammed." The communications officer was drenched in sweat.

Wu Tun Chin rushed in, his face pale: "General, we just received a report from the outer observation post—Zhang Cheng's troops have broken through the Square Defense Line and are advancing toward the Presidential Palace along Sovereignty Avenue! The vanguard... the vanguard is less than two kilometers away!"

"What?!" Min Aung Hlaing's eyes widened. "What about the outer defense line? What about the four divisions and eighty thousand men?!"

"They've collapsed... most have surrendered, and a small number have fled into residential areas. Zhang Cheng's troops didn't even launch a frontal assault; they used those talking robots to urge surrender, saying that those who surrender will not be killed, but those who resist will be executed. Many units... laid down their arms in their entirety."

Min Aung Hlaing stumbled back and slumped into his chair. Eighty thousand men... the Naypyidaw defense line, built over many years, had collapsed overnight. This was unscientific, this was illogical—

"General, what do we do now?" Wu Tun Chin's voice was trembling. "Should we... should we activate 'Project Nirvana,' or..."

The words "Project Nirvana" were like a bucket of cold water poured over Min Aung Hlaing's head. He suddenly snapped to his senses, a final flash of madness in his eyes: "Yes, there's still 'Project Nirvana.' Five hundred tons of explosives, enough to blow the entire Presidential Palace district to the sky. Zhang Cheng wants this place? I'll give him a field of ruins!"

He stood up and walked toward the red console. But just as his finger was about to press the button—

"Bang!"

The blast door of the command center was blown open.

It wasn't blown from the outside, but from the inside—shaped charges had been placed on the door hinges. The explosive power was perfectly controlled, only destroying the lock without harming the people inside.

Through the smoke, several dark figures rushed in.

"Don't move!"

"Hands off the console!"

Night Owl was the first to rush in, his muzzle aimed at Min Aung Hlaing. The team members behind him quickly took control of all the officers and disarmed them.

Wu Tun Chin tried to draw his gun, but as soon as his wrist moved, it was smashed by a rifle butt, and he fell to the ground screaming.

Min Aung Hlaing looked at the red button; it was only ten centimeters from his finger. Ten centimeters, the distance between life and death.

"How... how did you get in?" he asked hoarsely.

"Your Garrison Brigade Commander surrendered three hours ago," Night Owl said coldly. "He provided the blueprints for all underground fortifications, including the locations of three secret passages. We came in through the sewage pipes—you probably didn't expect that the Presidential Palace's sewage pipes were wide enough for a person to crawl through."

Min Aung Hlaing's face was ashen. Traitors, traitors everywhere.

"General Min Aung Hlaing," Night Owl walked up to him, "you are officially under arrest for war crimes, crimes against humanity, and the illegal use of civilians as human shields. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

The handcuffs locked with a "click."

The strongman who had ruled Myanmar for over twenty years had finally fallen.

7:30 AM, Sovereignty Avenue.

person's Tank No. 017 led the way, crushing the last barricade, its muzzle pointing directly at the grand white building ahead—the Myanmar Presidential Palace. The gates were wide open, and the interior was empty, with only a few lonely flags fluttering in the morning breeze.

The tank stopped before the steps, the hatch opened, and person leaned halfway out. He raised his binoculars, carefully scanning every window and corner of the building. No snipers, no ambushes, nothing.

"Clear. Infantry, move forward and secure the building."

Mechanized infantry leaped from behind the armored vehicles, rushing into the Presidential Palace in tactical formation. Their movements were professional and swift, clearing floor by floor and checking room by room.

At 7:50 AM, a report came through the communication channel: "The Presidential Palace is fully under control. We've found a large number of documents and archives, financial records, and... mountains of gold bars and foreign currency. Min Aung Hlaing's personal vault was also found, containing not only cash and jewelry but also over a dozen passports from different countries."

Zhao Yuxun smiled: "It seems he had long prepared to flee. Unfortunately, he didn't make it."

At 8:00 sharp, Zhang Cheng's convoy arrived at the Presidential Palace.

He didn't ride in a tank or an armored vehicle, but in an ordinary civilian SUV—this was Li Lanzhi's suggestion: "During the phase of entering the city, you need to show approachability; don't exert too much military pressure."

But no one dared to underestimate this vehicle. It was escorted by four strykers in the front and back, with three drones circling overhead, and the high points of the buildings on both sides had long been controlled by Shadow Blade. Zhang Cheng's Security Level was even higher than when Min Aung Hlaing was in power.

He got out of the car and looked up at the building. The white marble facade, the golden dome, the grand steps—it was a symbol of power and also a Tombstone for an era.

"Sovereign, Shadow Blade Battalion reporting. Min Aung Hlaing has been captured and is currently being escorted here." Night Owl walked out of the building and snapped a salute.

"Casualty report?"

"Three minor injuries in our unit, no fatalities. On the Myanmar Army's side... resistance was weak, and most surrendered. Preliminary statistics for civilian casualties are around two hundred, mainly caused by stray bullets and trampling in the chaos; medical teams have already been arranged for treatment."

Zhang Cheng nodded and stepped up the stairs. His pace was steady, step by step, as if measuring the new starting point of this nation.

Walking into the Presidential Palace hall, it was a mess. Documents were scattered everywhere, furniture was overturned, and the portrait of Min Aung Hlaing hanging on the wall was crooked with broken glass. Clearly, this place had experienced a hurried retreat in the final moments.

Zhang Cheng didn't go to the main office but walked to the center of the hall, where a massive Myanmar flag hung. He reached out and took the flag down.

"Replace it with ours."

A new flag was unfurled—the background was green, representing Myanmar's forests and land; in the center was a golden peacock, symbolizing rebirth and dignity; below the peacock were crossed ears of rice and gears, representing agriculture and industry; at the very top was a line of text in Burmese and Chinese: "North Myanmar Joint Autonomous Region."

This was designed by a designer commissioned by Li Lanzhi, blending tradition and modernity. It possessed ethnic characteristics and signaled that this was not a simple change of dynasty, but a brand-new political entity.

The flag slowly rose and was hung in the center of the Presidential Palace.