79: Chapter 79 Hellfire Descends and Bao Youxiang's Ecstasy: The Milk of the US

On an inconspicuous mountain road leading to Pangkham, a six-man squad was trudging along with difficulty.

They carried massive hiking backpacks, wore professional outdoor windbreakers, and had DSLR cameras hanging around their necks, looking just like a group of Western tourists here for an adventure or to observe wildlife.

But if one observed carefully, they would discover that this group of "tourists" was a bit off.

Their steps were too steady; even on wet and slippery mossy stones, they could grip the ground firmly like geckos.

Their gazes were too sharp; they didn't look like they were admiring the scenery, but rather scanning every high ground and every possible ambush point.

Leading them was a burly white man with a full beard, codenamed "Tombstone."

He stopped, pretending to wipe off sweat, while actually using the telephoto lens in his hand to quickly scan a checkpoint a few hundred meters ahead.

"One sentry at two o'clock. Machine gun bunker at ten o'clock." Tombstone chewed his gum, his voice low as he transmitted through his throat mic to the team members behind him, his lips barely moving even though he was speaking. "There are eight soldiers at the checkpoint, equipped with AK-47s; they look quite spirited, not the kind of militiamen who are just slacking off."

"Copy that." The sinister voice of the demolitions expert, "Viper," came through the earpiece. "Boss, should we take them out? It's been a long time since I've smelled blood, and my hands are itching."

"Shut up, you idiot." Tombstone cursed coldly. "Our target is the warlord named Zhang Cheng, not these small fries. We are still thirty kilometers away from Pangkham; once we open fire, we will alert that madman's main force. Do you want the six of us to take on an army of tens of thousands?"

"Tch, just a bunch of hillbillies." Viper snorted disdainfully. "I really don't know why the boss spent so much money to hire us. To deal with this kind of local warlord, a single remote-controlled bomb would solve it."

"Don't underestimate the enemy." The assault trooper at the back of the line, "Hammer," interjected. "That bunch of women from 'Blood Moon' might have mediocre skills, but they aren't completely useless. The fact that even they suffered such a crushing defeat shows that this Zhang Cheng has some tricks up his sleeve. Besides, intelligence says that the traitor 'Phantom' is also in his hands. That woman is trouble."

Tombstone put away his camera, his eyes turning sinister. "Alright, everyone, perk up. This mission isn't just about the five-million-dollar bounty; it's also about the reputation of 'Hellfire.' The boss said he wants that warlord's head, and he wants the traitor brought back. If anyone screws up, I'll throw him into the Mekong River to feed the fish."

The six men quickly adjusted their backpacks and once again merged into the vast jungle. Like six drops of highly toxic mercury, they silently infiltrated Zhang Cheng's territory.

...

Meanwhile, in the capital of South Wa, Wan Hong.

In Bao Youxiang's secret underground arsenal, it was brightly lit, as clear as day.

"My goodness! Is... is this American gear?"

Bao Youxiang's eyes widened like an inexperienced hillbilly, his trembling hand stroking the M4A1 carbine that had just been taken out of a green wooden crate. The gun was ice-cold with smooth lines, and the tactical rail was equipped with a holographic sight he had only ever seen in movies.

In front of him, hundreds of such crates were stacked neatly.

Crates of M4 rifles, M249 light machine guns, and rows of dark green M67 grenades emitted an alluring metallic luster and the scent of gun oil.

But what truly made Bao Youxiang's breathing quicken and even feel a bit dizzy were the few long, dark green crates in the corner, marked with English warning labels.

"That is the 'javelin' anti-tank missile, FGM-148."

A tall white man with a buzz cut and eyes as sharp as a wolf walked over. He wore an unmarked sandy-colored combat uniform and standard-issue US military combat boots, every step carrying the oppressive feeling characteristic of a professional soldier.

His name was Sam, the leader of the "Military Advisory Group" that had arrived with the equipment, a former US Army Delta Force instructor, a war machine who had killed countless people in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Sam casually picked up a launcher, skillfully shouldered it, and mimicked an aiming stance, a smirk of arrogance curling the corners of his mouth. "This thing is the bane of tanks. Infrared imaging guidance, fire-and-forget, specifically designed for top attacks. As long as it locks onto them, no matter how many tanks Zhang Cheng has, even if they are Russian-made T-72s, one shot and it will blow their skulls right off! The crew inside will instantly turn into roasted pigs."

"Good! Good! Excellent!"

Bao Youxiang was so excited that his face flushed red, and he even forgot to roll his walnuts. He looked at the missile launcher as if he were looking at a savior, or perhaps a golden key to power.

"With this treasure, I'd like to see how that little bastard Zhang Cheng can still be arrogant! Those broken pickup trucks and armored vehicles of his will just be a pile of scrap metal in front of me!"

During this period, he had been frightened out of his wits by Zhang Cheng's armored forces. The scene of that steel torrent advancing had become his nightly nightmare. But now, Daddy Sam had sent this "dog-beating stick," and his spine instantly stiffened!

Besides weapons, there were advanced man-portable communication radios, night-vision goggles, and even several sets of small drone jamming guns. These were things Bao Youxiang had only dared to dream of before; he had no channels to buy them even if he wanted to. Now, the Americans had actually sent them all over in one go!

"Mr. Sam, thank you so much! Thank you so much!" Bao Youxiang gripped Sam's hand tightly, shaking it vigorously, his enthusiasm even greater than if he were greeting his own father. "You are the most sincere friends of our Wa State people! If there is anything you need cooperation with, just say the word! Do you want money? Women? Or jade?"

Sam calmly pulled his hand back, wiping it on his pants with disgust, though his face still wore that professional, superior smile. "Commander-in-Chief Bao is too kind. We just don't want to see Northern Myanmar fall into the hands of a dictator; maintaining regional peace and stability is our responsibility. However..."

He changed the subject, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding Wa State soldiers who were drooling at the weapons, a flash of disdain in his eyes. "While this equipment is good, someone has to know how to use it. If you give it to a bunch of monkeys, they'll only use it to crack walnuts. In the coming days, my team will be fully responsible for training your soldiers. I want to turn them from a bunch of farmers who only know how to shoot wildly and smoke opium into real soldiers."

"No problem! Absolutely no problem!" Bao Youxiang slapped his chest, spittle flying everywhere. "I will assign all my best soldiers to you! If anyone dares to disobey, just shoot them! No need to report to me!"

He turned around, looking at the warehouse full of munitions, as if he could see the scene of himself leading his army north, retaking Pangkham, and trampling Zhang Cheng under his feet.

"Chief of Staff Xiao!" Bao Youxiang roared, his voice full of vigor.

"Here!" Xiao Mingliang quickly trotted over, his face also wearing undisguisable joy.

"Pass the order down! Re-equip the entire army! Step up training!" Bao Youxiang's eyes flashed with a murderous light of revenge, and he gritted his teeth as he spoke. "Once we are well-trained and have these American treasures, I'm going to fight back! I want to take back everything I've lost! I want to twist off that little bastard Zhang Cheng's skull and use it as a chamber pot!"

A wave of fanatical cheers erupted in the warehouse.

The warlords of South Wa, nourished by Uncle Sam's milk, began to dream once again of counterattacking and settling scores. They thought that with guns they could stand tall, and with missiles they could be invincible.