119: Chapter 119 Your performance ends, my turn begins

In the Mao Xiong command center, on the giant screen of the satellite monitoring hall, the red-orange light spot representing the heat source of the nuclear explosion in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was still slowly spreading, like a poisonous flower blooming under an infrared lens.

The Leader of Mao Xiong rested his cigar on the edge of the console, staring at the white blind spot on the screen where nothing could be seen, his brows furrowed like two steel plates welded together.

The row of generals in military uniform behind him remained silent; only the air defense expert was frantically tapping on his keyboard, trying to filter out even a single identifiable target signal from the nuclear explosion clutter.

After tapping for a long time, he pushed the keyboard forward, turned his head, and said in a low voice:

"Because the heat generated by the nuclear explosion covers the target's own heat source signal, it is currently impossible to confirm if the target has been destroyed. We are stepping up frame-by-frame screening using multispectral imaging; it will take at least fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes is enough for him to swim from the Pacific Ocean to Hawaii." The Leader of Mao Xiong threw his cigar heavily onto the ground and crushed it with his foot.

Just then, on the encrypted channel, the indicator light for the Eastern Power lit up.

The face of the Eastern Leader appeared on the side screen. On the electronic map behind him, three red crosses were marked in the middle of the Pacific Ocean: the nuclear explosion point, the entry point of A-Zu's flight path, and the last visual positioning.

"The target's evasion reaction speed was about two seconds faster than our estimated limit. He made a diving maneuver during the terminal guidance phase of the nuclear missile, which is shorter than the evasion response time of any known aircraft within the atmosphere."

"We are still collecting post-blast data," the Eastern Leader paused, "Wait, the United States just sent over a satellite snapshot."

As soon as he finished speaking, a high-resolution satellite photo popped up on the main screen.

Everyone leaned forward half a body length at the same time. The photo was taken at a beach somewhere on the eastern coast of the Pacific Ocean, about two hundred nautical miles in a straight line from the center of the nuclear explosion.

On the beach, a stark naked figure was taking off from the sand, flying at a low altitude toward New York in an exceptionally wretched state.

The Leader of Mao Xiong suddenly stood up from his chair, staring at A-Zu on the photo as he struggled to take off from the beach, squeezing a few words from the depths of his throat.

"What a terrifying creature, to actually survive a nuclear bomb."

The Eastern Leader remained calm: "No, look at his flight posture; he is clearly seriously injured. Otherwise, he could have continued to push toward the Eastern Power's airspace; why would he turn back to New York?"

"Furthermore, his speed is far lower than the Mach 1.5 he had when he arrived, which indicates that his energy system was severely disrupted in the nuclear explosion."

The photo on the screen zoomed in on the burn marks on A-Zu's back. The skin tissue had been charred black in the instant of the nuclear explosion's light radiation, with large areas of the epidermal layer necrotic. The subcutaneous tissue was exposed to the air, and after being soaked in seawater, the edges of the wounds had already revealed grayish-white ulcerated traces.

The President looked at the photo of that beach and A-Zu, who had survived the nuclear explosion, then took a deep breath and said with extreme composure:

"Since the opponent is fleeing to New York, then initiate the next step of the plan. Notify the Human Renaissance Alliance; it's their turn to take the stage."

The encrypted channel was connected again. This time, it wasn't the signal light of the Permanent Five command centers that lit up, but a string of encrypted codes leading to the laboratory on the fifth basement floor of Renhe Hall.

——————

On Fifth Avenue, at the Wuhu Special Ability Shop, Kara stood behind the counter, her antennae twisted together anxiously, having wrung the rag in her hand no less than dozens of times.

Sima Bei was huddled in a corner, the shoe-print tattoo on his face glowing purplish-blue in the dim light, his mouth constantly muttering in a low voice: "Lord A-Zu is invincible under heaven, Lord A-Zu will definitely be fine."

Outside the door, the smell of gunpowder on Fifth Avenue had not yet dissipated, the debris of the slogan placards scattered all over the ground had not yet been cleared, and the black smoke rising from the direction of the White House in the distance still hung on the horizon.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open, the door panel hitting the inner wall, and the copper bell was directly shaken off, hitting the corner with a ding-dong sound.

A-Zu stumbled in. He was completely naked, his skin covered in extensive burns, even half of the tips of his antennae were charred, and his left arm hung at his side at an abnormal angle.

After rushing in, he braced himself against the edge of the counter with one hand and suddenly spat a mouthful of fresh blood onto the floor.

"Prince!" Kara threw the rag aside and rushed forward in three steps.

Sima Bei practically crawled over on his knees, his knees making a harsh scraping sound on the floor: "Lord A-Zu! What happened to you! Who hurt you like this?"

A-Zu waved his right hand, which could still move: "I'm fine."

Gritting his teeth, he jerked his left arm upward, and his shoulder joint made a dull click as it reset. Then he leaned his whole body against the counter, his chest heaving violently, "I just suffered some injuries."

"I was careless. I didn't expect the weapons developed by these Earthlings to reach the level of a full-power strike from an A-rank."

Kara was about to speak about a medical plan when suddenly, the phones of everyone in the shop vibrated at the same time.

Immediately after, the outdoor giant screens on Fifth Avenue that hadn't been cleared yet, the giant LED screens in Times Square, the train schedule screens at Grand Central Station, and the electronic billboards in the lobbies of every office building in Manhattan all switched to the same image at the same instant.

An AI-generated virtual avatar appeared on the screen. It was a dark-skinned, bald, one-eyed male face wearing an eye patch. The modeling precision was extremely high, with every wrinkle on his face and the leather texture on the edge of the eye patch rendered in minute detail.

At exactly seven o'clock New York time, all screens in the entire city of New York were hacked simultaneously.

The one-eyed Black man on the screen spoke. His voice was electronically synthesized, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female.

"Fellow citizens of Earth, hello. You can call me Nick Fury. I am the leader of the Human Renaissance Alliance."

"I believe everyone has already seen the footage of the White House being destroyed by that alien named A-Zu. I also believe that like me, when you saw the President's office being sat upon by an alien, your first reaction was anger, and your second reaction was: what can we do?"

Immediately after, the screen switched to a satellite image: in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, a huge mushroom cloud was surging into the stratosphere, the light of the fireball illuminating the entire sea area like daylight.

The screen cut back, and Nick Fury continued: "Just now, we, the Human Renaissance Alliance, through hacking technology, took over one-third of the global nuclear missile launch systems."

"And we launched one of them at that Mr. A-Zu, who was just sitting in our President's chair, demanding unconditional surrender from all of humanity, and announcing that we would henceforth only be slaves of Planet Wuhu."

Nick Fury smiled and said: "Here, I would like to ask Mr. A-Zu."

"How does the nuclear bomb taste? Is it hot? Is it loud? Compared to the feeling you had when you were massacring our civilians on Fifth Avenue this morning, which one feels better?"