194: Chapter 194 The blade is upon us; blood must be paid for.

He said solemnly, "The domestic stance is clear. We support the rescue of our person. But next, India's reaction might be very intense. You must be prepared. When necessary, we will provide firm diplomatic and moral support. However, direct military intervention... it's not the time yet, you understand."

"Understood." Zhang Cheng nodded. "As long as you don't stop me from taking action myself. By the way, help me pass a word to Engineer Chen. He suffered this time. Our Shuguang Group will pay double for his work injury compensation and reputation loss. In the future, whenever he comes to Myanmar, he will always be an honored guest."

Zhao Gang nodded, chatted for a few more sentences, and then got up to leave. He needed to report the latest situation and Zhang Cheng's attitude back immediately.

Zhang Cheng saw off Zhao Gang and returned to the study, where Old K was already waiting at the door.

"Dominator, the networks of several major cities in northeastern India have been paralyzed. A large number of people are expressing anger and humiliation on social media, and some radicals have started calling for retaliation. The military channels are in chaos, with some demanding an immediate all-out offensive and others questioning the incompetence of the frontline troops." Old K reported the newly obtained intelligence.

"Have Zhao Yuxun and Wang Yuanshan maintain the highest state of alert." Zhang Cheng walked to the map. "Also, edit the 'live recording' from just now. Focus on the parts where they illegally kidnapped and humiliated the captives. Add multilingual subtitles and put it on major global video websites and social media platforms. As for the title... let's call it 'The Truth: Indian Military Border Atrocities and Myanmar's Rescue Operation'."

"Yes." Old K took the order and added, "Night Owl asks how to handle Varun Kapoor?"

Zhang Cheng thought for a moment, a cold smile appearing on his lips: "Doesn't he like making people kneel? Strip him and his main accomplices of their uniforms, blindfold them, take them to the border in a Jeep, and release them facing their camp. Install a large loudspeaker on the car and play it on a loop... Hmm, let's play the Myanmar national anthem."

Old K's eternal iceberg-like face seemed to twitch ever so slightly: "Yes."

"Also," Zhang Cheng called out to him, "tell Wang Yuanshan that the Rocket Force's DF-17 can lock onto targets now. No need to actually fire, but have our 'Sky Dome' air defense system 'accidentally' scan important targets in their depth with fire-control radar from time to time. As for the frequency, make it so they can perceive it but can't catch any evidence."

"I want them to know," Zhang Cheng looked toward India on the map, his eyes sharp as a knife, "my blade is not only fast, but it is already at their throats. Whether they choose to keep barking or sit down and talk properly, let them choose for themselves."

Naypyidaw, Presidential Palace Command Center.

On the screen in front of Zhang Cheng, high-definition footage of the Night Owl squad rescuing Chen Ming and two soldiers was still playing on a loop, along with the subsequent precious video of "Captain Varun crying for his life." Old K had already organized the full set of materials and was preparing to "leak" them to several "reliable" international media outlets through encrypted channels according to Zhang Cheng's instructions.

"Dominator, once this information is made public, the Indian military's face will be completely lost in the Ganges." Old K's voice carried a rare hint of pleasure. "The combat effectiveness of their border guards is not even as good as the private soldiers raised by the Four Great Families."

Zhang Cheng leaned back in his chair, his fingertips lightly tapping the armrest, but there wasn't much post-victory relaxation on his face.

"Slapping their faces is necessary, but Old K, do you think those gentlemen in India, after suffering such a big loss, will honestly admit defeat?"

Old K was silent for a moment: "According to behavioral pattern analysis, the Indian high-level officials, especially the military hawks, are accustomed to shifting internal conflicts outward. Having lost in this border friction, to maintain 'face' and domestic support rates, there is a very high probability they will take more intense retaliatory actions in other areas."

"Other areas..." Zhang Cheng's gaze involuntarily turned to the upper left corner of the map, that vast land marked as the "Sam Region." A large number of mountain ethnic groups lived there, sharing the same roots and origins as the Kachin and Lisu ethnic groups in Northern Myanmar, with similar languages and cultures. They had suffered under India's high-pressure rule for many years.

"Report!" A communications staff officer stepped in quickly, his face solemn, holding a tablet. "The latest intelligence sent back from our side of the border by the Night Owl Brigade, and... an encrypted video stream from within the Sam Region."

"Connect it."

The main screen of the command center switched.

First appeared an overhead shot taken by a high-altitude drone: thick smoke billowing, several buildings with plaques in Burmese and local ethnic scripts burning in the fire, looking like schools or community centers. Indian police and paramilitary personnel in deep green uniforms were roughly driving a group of unarmed civilians—many of them elderly and women—into an open space, beating them with clubs and rifle butts. Cries and scolding came through the less-than-clear audio, piercing the eardrums.

Next, the screen switched to a more hidden perspective, seemingly filmed by a local resident with a hidden device. The camera shook violently, but it was clear to see several men with their hands tied behind their backs kneeling on the ground, with hideous scars on their backs obviously burned by branding irons, wounds still seeping blood. The filmer's low, fear-filled sobbing was faintly audible: "They... they said it's to punish 'pro-Myanmar spies'... Abba was just teaching the children to recognize our own ethnic script..."

At the end of the video was a line of crooked Burmese help messages written in blood, which translated to: "Save us, they are crazy."

The command center was deathly silent, with only the low hum of operating machines. Several young staff officers clenched their fists tightly, their eyes turning red.

Zhang Cheng's face darkened at a visible rate, finally condensing into a terrifying icy coldness. He didn't explode in a rage, but the murderous intent churning in those eyes made the room temperature seem to drop several degrees.

"This is their retaliation." Zhang Cheng's voice was frighteningly calm, every word sounding like it was fished out of an ice cellar. "They don't dare to face my army head-on, so they attack unarmed civilians and play this kind of dirty ethnic cleansing."

He stood up abruptly: "What's the situation at the refugee camps?"

"More than three thousand Sam refugees have already poured into the Kachin State border, and the number is still increasing rapidly." The staff officer pulled up another report with photos and preliminary statistics sent by frontline civil affairs officials. "Many people are injured, with gunshot wounds, burns, and marks from beatings. Food, medicine, and tents are in serious shortage, and the local medical teams are already overloaded."