12: Chapter 12 The Army Enters the City

In the interrogation room, the fluorescent lights were still humming.

Chen Mu closed his eyes, the system interface floating quietly in his field of vision.

By now, the fear value had risen to 100,380,000. The growth rate was beginning to slow; though it was still rising, it was like a tide that had breached a dam and was now gradually seeping inland.

He first permanently purchased Cosmic Illusion (B-Rank) and Micro-Expression Control (F-Rank), then bought Advanced Genetic Enhancement Technology (B-Rank) to equip himself. Afterward, he continuously refreshed the mall while contemplating his subsequent plans.

[Advanced Genetic Enhancement · B-Rank]

[Theme: Alien Invasion]

[Basic Ability: Doubles various physical function values while maintaining the species' original form.]

[Price: 1.5 million fear value for permanent purchase; 150,000 fear value for a single rental.]

Just as Chen Mu was enjoying the pleasure of his physical stats increasing, Maya, who had remained silent, finally spoke.

"Mr. Ambassador."

Maya's Adam's apple bobbed. "If our planet refuses to surrender, what will you do?"

Chen Mu opened his eyes and gave a light chuckle. "Relax, kind lady. I think you may have some misunderstandings about us. Our planet has always highly respected the right of other species to exist."

"For us, war is always the last resort!"

Maya leaned forward slightly. "So, you are peace-loving?"

Chen Mu nodded. "You could say that. After all, to be honest, with Guga Planet's military strength, we could destroy the vast majority of your planet's armed forces within an hour."

At the same time, he thought to himself: 'After all, they're just a bunch of illusions. How could there be a real all-out war? Just one of those motherships would cost over a hundred million fear value to buy permanently.'

With his current fear value, he could barely afford even one ship, let alone a fleet of tens of thousands.

Thompson gave a cold snort.

He stood up from his chair, folded his arms, and walked to the wall. Leaning against the one-way glass, he stared at Chen Mu with a gaze he had honed over twenty-two years on the force—a gaze specifically designed to pierce through lies.

"I've never seen a pacifist who parks a fleet of a million ships at someone else's doorstep."

Chen Mu rattled the chains binding his hands, the handcuffs dragging across the iron table with a metallic scraping sound.

"After all, we have to prevent some people from being unable to understand what we're saying, don't we?"

Thompson fell silent. He understood that the language of violence was the only truly universal language in this world.

Bang!

The door to the interrogation room was suddenly burst open.

Over a dozen fully armed Delta Force operators stood outside. Their muzzles were pointed toward the ground, and all eyes were fixed on Chen Mu inside the room.

At that moment, the Chief walked in from behind them. He had specifically changed into a dark blue suit and stood straight at the doorway, hands hanging at his sides like a middle schooler called into the principal's office.

He said respectfully, "Mr. Ambassador."

"The President has sent us to escort you to the White House for talks. The helicopter is ready."

He pulled a key from his pocket and respectfully unlocked the handcuffs on Chen Mu's wrists.

Chen Mu stretched his wrists. The stainless steel cuffs had left two faint red marks on his skin, but they quickly vanished.

"Lead the way."

He turned to Maya and waved. "Ms. Maya, thank you very much for the dinner. I hope we meet again!"

Then, under the escort of the Delta Force, he walked out of the interrogation room.

This unit's footsteps and breathing were mostly absorbed by their tactical gear; they moved like a group of armored ghosts.

Maya stood where she was, watching Chen Mu's back disappear at the end of the corridor, watching the black vests of the special forces turn the corner one by one.

Mixed emotions swirled in her heart: 'I must be the first person on the entire Blue Star to treat an alien to a meal!'

——————

The roar of helicopter rotors drifted down from the roof.

There was a helipad on the roof of the Seventh Precinct. It was a budget item approved by the New York City Council ten years ago, supposedly to improve emergency response capabilities.

In ten years, that helipad had been used twice. Once for a mayoral inspection, and once when a senator's son got married and borrowed it to park a helicopter for the ceremony. Today was the third time.

As Chen Mu stepped onto the roof, the wind whipped up by the rotors flattened his hair back. The hem of his grayish-green coat flapped in the wind like a faded flag.

The special forces fanned out around him. Some knelt, some stood, their muzzles pointing in every direction beyond the edge of the roof.

The helicopter was a VH-60N in Marine Corps livery, with the United States national emblem printed on its white fuselage.

The cabin door was wide open. A crew member in military uniform crouched by the door, one hand pressing against his headset and the other making a "board" gesture toward Chen Mu.

Chen Mu bent down and ducked into the cabin. This was his first time riding in a helicopter in two lifetimes, and for a moment, he couldn't even find the seatbelt.

But the special forces members who boarded after him didn't care. After all, it was perfectly normal for an alien to have never ridden in a helicopter, just as a modern person might not know how to use a pager.

The rotor speed began to climb, the roar shifting from a low hum to a sharp howl. The fuselage shuddered once and then left the roof.

New York unfolded beneath them.

From high above, the city was burning.

At this moment, there were at least three fire points in Midtown Manhattan. Thick smoke rose from between the buildings, pulled into slanted gray pillars by the wind from the rotors.

The advertising screens in Times Square were still lit. The red Coca-Cola logo flickered in and out of the smoke like an eye blinking in a dense fog.

On the streets, traffic was completely paralyzed. Cars were bumper-to-bumper, jammed from 42nd Street all the way into the hazy distance. People were running between the cars, clutching large amounts of food or daily necessities.

The glass windows of supermarkets were shattered all over the ground. The shelves inside were empty, with only a few dark shadows still hauling things out.

Sirens and gunfire rang out alternately on the ground, sounding like popping beans.

In the direction of Brooklyn, a larger blaze illuminated half a street. It appeared someone had set a gas station on fire, the flames even tinting the low-hanging clouds orange-red.

Countless people were crying and running in panic. Chen Mu turned his gaze away from the porthole.

Ever since he had accidentally scared Old Jim to death, he knew this was destined to be a point of no return.

A general's success is built on ten thousand rotting bones. This is just how the world is: you either slay others, or you are slain.

The helicopter's heading suddenly veered slightly, as if avoiding something. Chen Mu looked out the porthole on the other side.

He saw a large number of military Humvees and armored vehicles advancing from the city's edge toward the center. Trucks followed the Humvees, filled with soldiers in full combat gear, their muzzles pointing upward like a moving forest of metal.

"Under Section 251 of the Insurrection Act, New York City is in a state of emergency. All citizens are to return to their residences immediately. Repeat, all citizens are to return to their residences immediately. Curfew begins at 21:00 hours. Violators will be treated as rioters."

The speakers on the military vehicles broadcast this notice on a continuous loop.

Bang!

A Black man in a hoodie suddenly stood up from behind an overturned truck, holding a shotgun, and pulled the trigger at the nearest stryker.

"Get out of this city!!!"

The buckshot hit the armor like a handful of pebbles thrown into a pond.

The next moment, the weapon station on the roof rotated. Within a second, a short burst—three rounds of 5.56mm bullets—all hit the man's torso, turning his upper body into a mist of blood.

The street went silent for a moment, then became even noisier. People were screaming, running, or lying on the ground with their heads in their hands.

The stryker's loudspeaker continued its broadcast without pause.

The army continued to advance toward the city center, with infantry following the strykers and military police following the infantry.

People were being pinned to the ground by the roadside, their hands pulled back, plastic zip-ties biting into their wrists.

Someone was wailing as they were dragged into a truck by two soldiers.

Gunfire rang out a few more times, always in short bursts. Each time was followed by a few seconds of silence before the loudspeaker resumed.

From high above, the army's advance looked like a syringe, injecting a forced order into this convulsing city.

Where the line of advance passed, fires still burned, but no one dared to smash windows anymore. The crying remained, but it was muffled, like the whimpering of a wounded animal.

Order was restored in a short time through absolute violence.

The White House was to the south; there was still some flying to do.

Chen Mu adjusted his micro-expressions and closed his eyes once more.