241: Chapter 241 Fireworks Show, Act One

The press conference ended hastily.

Surrounded by bodyguards, Lavitz left in a hurry, not even giving the reporters a chance to ask follow-up questions.

Behind him, in the press briefing room, the reporters were still engaged in a heated discussion.

"He admitted it! He actually admitted it!"

"The myth of the Iron Dome has been shattered..."

"That video... it was too shocking. Over two hundred rockets launched at once, my god..."

"What do you think the next step will be? Will the Squid Nation retaliate? Or..."

No one knew the answer.

But everyone knew one thing: from today on, the sky over the Middle East would no longer have only one color.

That shade of blue representing "absolute safety" had been torn open by the red tail flames of two hundred and twenty rockets, creating a rift that could never be healed.

On the other side of the rift, deep beneath Gaza, Sinwar closed the live stream page.

Looking at Minister Lavitz's face on the screen—forcedly calm yet unable to hide his disarray—he said softly:

"Fireworks show, Act One, concluded."

Nevada, Creech Air Force Base, inside a highly classified remote cockpit.

Under the dim lights, Captain Ryan Miller's fingers slid across the touchscreen, adjusting the infrared camera parameters of the "Reaper" drone. On the screen was the night view of a city in the Middle East—Gaza. The ruins appeared as gray blocks of varying shades in the thermal imaging, with occasional faint red spots representing human body heat.

Ever since the MQ-9 "Reaper" numbered "ghost 01" was shot down in Gaza, the entire CIA and the Air Force Special Operations Command had fallen into a certain degree of anxiety. That method of shoot-down—a man-portable air-defense missile launched from the ground, combined with perfect electronic interference—didn't seem like a tactic Hamas or Hezbollah could master.

"Target confirmed," the mission commander's voice came through Miller's headset. "Grid 43-Delta-9, three-story building ruins, abnormal heat source concentration, suspected command node. Prepare to fire 'Hellfire'."

"Copy that." Miller's finger hovered over the launch button.

Just then, the screen suddenly flickered with static.

It wasn't a signal interruption, but something even more eerie—the image on the screen began to distort and stretch as if someone were using digital means to modify the picture. The outlines of the ruins deformed, and the thermal distribution map was redrawn. A few seconds later, a line of Arabic text appeared on the screen, followed by an English translation:

"This is a warning. Next time, we will send the missile back to your cockpit."

Immediately after, the image returned to normal.

But the building ruins suspected of being a command node turned cold in the thermal imaging—all heat sources had vanished as if they had never existed.

"What's going on?!" the mission commander's voice was filled with shock.

"I... I don't know." Cold sweat broke out on Miller's back. "The system was hacked. They... they know where we're looking."

A secret meeting was held deep within Creech Base, with participants including a Major General from the Air Force Special Operations Command, the CIA's Director of the Middle East Division, and two technical consultants from Lockheed Martin.

"This is no coincidence," the CIA Director said, tapping the table. "In the past thirty days, we've lost a 'Reaper' in Gaza, a 'Yassam' special squadron, and now even our remote operating system has been hacked. According to signal tracing, the source of the intrusion points to..."

He paused and looked at the Air Force Major General.

"Points to Myanmar." The Major General finished for him. "Zhang Cheng. He has electronic warfare technology we don't know about."

The conference room fell into silence.

"The President's orders are clear," the Major General spoke again after a long silence. "The Gaza issue must be resolved quickly. The video of the rocket attack on the 'Iron Dome' has already gone viral globally, and our allies are starting to doubt our military commitment. If we can't even handle a city in ruins..."

He didn't finish, but everyone understood—that would be a serious crisis for the United States' global military hegemony.

"If conventional means don't work, then use unconventional ones." The CIA Director pulled a document from a folder. "The F-35I squadron at Negev Base has completed ground-attack enhancement modifications. These are the Squid Nation versions of the F-35, equipped with 'Beast Mode' carriage capabilities, capable of carrying eight GBU-53/B 'StormBreaker' guided bombs and two AIM-120 air-to-air missiles."

"Stealth fighters?" The Lockheed technical consultant raised an eyebrow. "But Gaza doesn't have any decent air defense systems. According to intelligence, the Resistance Organization only has some man-portable air-defense missiles and homemade rockets."

"That's exactly the problem," the CIA Director said coldly. "They've caused the most trouble with the simplest equipment. So we need an absolutely superior strike method—stealth fighters penetrating at night, using EOTS (Electro-Optical Targeting System) and the Distributed Aperture System to lock onto targets from fifteen kilometers away, drop precision-guided munitions, and then retreat unscathed. Even if they have man-portable air-defense missiles, they won't be able to detect or lock onto the F-35."

"Mission objective?" the Air Force Major General asked.

"Decapitation." The Director circled three coordinates on the map. "According to Squid Nation intelligence, the Resistance Organization's core headquarters is in one of these three locations. We don't know which one specifically, so—destroy them all."

"And civilian casualties..."

"War is war." The Director's expression was blank. "The President has approved the operation. Code name: 'Hammer of Judgment.' We're going to use a clean stealth strike to tell the world—America's air power is still the sharpest blade on this planet."

Before the meeting ended, the Lockheed technical consultant spoke up hesitantly: "What if... I mean, what if their electronic warfare capabilities really can detect the F-35?"

Everyone in the conference room laughed.

"Detect the F-35?" The Air Force Major General shook his head. "That's a fifth-generation stealth fighter with a radar cross-section of only 0.001 square meters. In actual combat, it's likened to a 'ping-pong ball flying at high altitude.' To detect it, specialized anti-stealth radar is required, and it must be at a very close range. And according to our intelligence, Gaza doesn't have any state-level air defense systems, let alone anti-stealth radar."

"Unless," he paused and made a joke, "Zhang Cheng can pull one out of his pocket."

The laughter grew louder.

No one took it seriously.

At the same time, fifteen meters beneath Gaza.

On the screen in front of Sinwar, an encrypted video transmission was playing.

The footage was captured by a weather satellite from tens of thousands of meters above. After being enhanced by system algorithms, the hangars at Negev Base could be clearly seen opening, and four F-35Is were being slowly towed out, with ground crews mounting munitions on them.