209: Chapter 209 Steel Torrent, Thirty Minutes

The M1A2 main battle tanks, which had long been poised in their pre-set positions, spewed thick black smoke like awakening steel behemoths. They formed a standard assault formation and thundered toward the shattered India front lines at a high speed of sixty kilometers per hour. The infantry fighting vehicles and mechanized infantry followed behind them like a rising tide.

Resistance? It was almost non-existent.

The surviving India soldiers had long since had their will destroyed by three consecutive waves of strikes that exceeded their comprehension. They saw those T-90S tanks, previously touted as "world-class," easily pierced like paper under the muzzles of the enemy tanks. They saw drones flying all over the sky and helicopters wreaking havoc at low altitudes; they saw the artillery positions in the distance still burning and exploding...

"Surrender! We surrender!"

It was unknown who threw down their gun and raised their hands first, but it quickly spread like a plague. Large swaths of India soldiers, ignoring the shouts of their officers and even the threat of being shot as deserters, dropped their weapons and knelt on the ground, or held their hands high, crying out "surrender" in broken English or Hindi.

Some tank crews attempted to reverse and flee, but they were quickly overtaken by Hellfire missiles or the M1A2's depleted uranium armor-piercing shells, turning into balls of fire.

Lieutenant General Sumit's command vehicle beat a hasty retreat under the desperate cover of his guards. Through the dust-covered rear window, he saw a scene of total collapse: burning equipment, fluttering white flags (some even made from underwear), and a tide of routed soldiers fleeing to the rear.

From the moment the first DF-17 landed until the India front line completely collapsed and white flags were everywhere, only thirty minutes had passed.

...

The military live-stream rooms of major global media outlets, as well as major social platforms, fell into an eerie silence at this moment, followed by an explosive frenzy.

The battlefield footage selectively released by the Myanmar Army's "war correspondents" (Death Soldiers) shocked the entire world:

- A series of aerial shots showing India artillery positions and armored clusters turning into a sea of fire amidst dense explosions.

- Close-up shots of the terrifying scene where countless suicide drones swarmed toward tanks and soldiers like locusts.

- apache helicopters strafed the routed troops with autocannons (the footage had been processed, but the effect was still harrowing).

- The most provocative was a wide-angle shot: in an open river valley, thousands of India soldiers knelt on the ground with their hands behind their heads. In the background, M1A2 tanks bearing Myanmar Army markings drove slowly past as if being reviewed, their muzzles not even deigning to point at these captives who had lost the will to resist.

"My God... this is simply a massacre..."

"A one-sided crushing of a semi-modern army by a modern army!"

"What are those missiles? Hypersonic? How could Myanmar have them?!"

"Swarm tactics! This is the direction of future warfare!"

"India's 'World's Fifth' is a joke!"

"Where on earth did Zhang Cheng get this equipment? How much did Dragon Country give him?"

Military experts were dumbfounded. All previous analyses and simulations appeared pale and ridiculous in the face of this thirty-minute "campaign." This was not a contest on the same dimension at all; it was a complete dimensional strike!

New Delhi, Prime Minister's Office.

A deathly silence.

Lieutenant General Sumit's report of the rout and the scattered footage from the front lines were like a heavy hammer, shattering everyone's last shred of illusion.

The Prime Minister's face was ashen, as if he had aged ten years in an instant. He opened his mouth to say something but could not make a sound.

Rajesh Singh (who was present despite being dismissed) slumped in his chair, his eyes glazed, muttering, "It's over... it's all over..."

It wasn't the failure of a single tactic or the inferiority of a single weapon, but the despair of having the entire military system and combat philosophy completely crushed.

The office door was burst open, and the secretary ran in panic-stricken: "Prime Minister! An urgent call from the Dragon Country special envoy! Also... the ambassadors of the USA and the Bear are demanding an immediate meeting!"

Everyone's hearts sank to the cold bottom.

Peace talks, or rather, a humiliating plea for peace, had become inevitable.

And the power to set the price was now firmly held by the young man thousands of miles away in the Naypyidaw command center, who had just crushed five of their divisions in half an hour.

Kunnan, the capital of Dragon Country's Southern Yunnan, is a city that blends modern flair with ethnic charm. At this moment, a certain national-level guest house on the banks of Dianchi Lake was heavily guarded, and the atmosphere was subtle. This place was about to become the negotiation table that would determine the balance of power in the South Asian Subcontinent for some time to come.

Dragon Country took the initiative to host the armistice and peace talks between Myanmar and India here, both to fulfill its "responsibility as a major regional power" and to clearly demonstrate its stance and influence to the world. The negotiation hall was arranged solemnly and simply. The national flags of the three countries were placed on the main table, with the Dragon Country flag in the center and the Myanmar and Indian flags on either side—this seating arrangement was itself profoundly meaningful.

Zhang Cheng did not show up in person. Representing the Federation of Myanmar government at the negotiation table were Prime Minister Li Lanzhi, as well as the Foreign Minister (an administrative expert exchanged from the system) and military representative Zhao Yuxun. Li Lanzhi was dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, her makeup was exquisite, and her aura was steady. There was no sign that this was her first time experiencing such a high-level international negotiation.

On the India side, the Foreign Minister personally led the team. The military representative was a general with an ashen face, along with several nervous high-ranking civil servants. Their eyes were evasive and their postures stiff, a far cry from the arrogance they displayed when they clamored to "teach Myanmar a lesson" before the negotiations.

The Dragon Country Foreign Minister presided over the opening, his wording rigorous and neutral, but between the lines, he emphasized the importance of "maintaining regional peace and stability" and "resolving disputes through dialogue," and "hoped that both sides would show their utmost sincerity."

Then, the ball was kicked to Li Lanzhi's feet.

She did not look at her notes. Her gaze calmly swept over the members of the India delegation opposite her, and she spoke clearly and slowly, her voice reaching everyone's ears through simultaneous interpretation:

"Based on the India military's blatant violation of our Federation's territorial integrity, the serious threat posed to the safety of our border residents and invited Dragon Country engineers, and the ongoing acts of repression in the Sam Region under its control that violate basic humanity, I, on behalf of President Zhang Cheng and the Federation of Myanmar government, propose the following ceasefire and reconciliation terms."

With every sentence she spoke, the faces of the India representatives opposite her grew uglier.

"First, the India government must issue a formal, public written apology to the Federation of Myanmar and the affected Dragon Country citizens regarding this border conflict within the United Nations framework and on major global media."