Chapter Five: Target, Jeppon!

This also explains why the Republic government so swiftly decided to make public the rescue operation of Flight 740.

Although the actions against the East U organization were still covert at this stage, once the battle commenced, it would be impossible to keep it secret from the world. Therefore, securing international support—or at least preventing stubborn anti-Republic forces from stirring dissent—was absolutely necessary.

By revealing the Flight 740 incident prior to the operation, combined with the string of terrorist attacks carried out by the East U organization, the Republic could undoubtedly garner more support and sympathy. This unprecedented large-scale cross-border military operation would thus hold the moral and legal high ground from the very start. It’s likely that the press release was already prepared when the Republic’s top echelon decided to launch this war.

More importantly, it served as a warning—a warning to those nations and groups itching to counter Chakna, cautioning them not to act rashly during the Republic’s operation. Just think about it: identifying the hijacked plane’s location in the shortest time, crossing half the globe in a matter of days to carry out the rescue, and safely returning everyone home—what kind of intelligence analysis, long-range force deployment, and comprehensive support capabilities does that require? It reflects the resolve and willpower of the Republic’s new government.

Especially for the Minya Federation, which suffered a massive blow, it must carefully consider how to confront the Republic’s special forces, whose combat power far exceeds their imagination.

But understanding aside, what left Leidong utterly speechless was that among the participating troops was his old unit—the Jiliao Theater Special Operations Brigade, also known as the Fierce Tiger Battalion!

As soon as the news broke, Lang Tianyu and a few others couldn’t sit still, exchanging glances filled with sorrow. Leidong even looked up and shouted, “Damn it, I should never have come here to be a damn reconnaissance cadet!”

Exactly! Even if he stayed with the Fierce Tiger Battalion, even if he couldn’t snag a cross-border mission or a chance to storm the East U headquarters, at least there would be a fight to engage in. No meat to eat, no bones to gnaw, but at least some soup to dip into. Unlike this unlucky place, where there’s no meat, no bones, not even a trace of fat—just stuck in one spot, eating dust!

Leidong sighed deeply. Song Jingang, however, patted his chest, exhaled, and squinted his eyes, saying, “Phew—finally some mental balance.”

Leidong gave him a glare, and then a few pairs of eyes turned toward Wuyun. Usually, whenever Song Jingang “provoked,” Wuyun would respond strongly right away. But this time, Wuyun only sighed deeply, waved his hand, and looked utterly resigned—not even interested in their usual banter.

A wave of despondency spread throughout the squad.

The next day, headquarters issued an order: the Fourth Squad of the Furious Dragon Battalion, which participated in the Flight 740 rescue, was collectively awarded the first-class merit. Leidong himself received a first-class merit and was promoted two ranks in military grade; other members received second-class merits and one rank promotions. Yet even such normally celebratory news failed to lift the squad’s morale.

Training remained the same, discipline was strictly enforced, standards did not drop, and the soldiers performed flawlessly. However, Leidong clearly sensed their spirits were very low, lacking that vital energy.

As the acting squad leader, Leidong tried every means to raise their enthusiasm but to no avail, his heart aching with frustration. The third night was even worse—he suddenly discovered that Wuyan had disappeared without a word or farewell.

This dealt a blow even to Leidong, who had been in relatively good spirits.

By late May, with the attack’s launch date drawing near, Leidong could no longer bear the incessant day and night questioning from his men and rushed to Lei Tiangang’s office to plead for help.

“Think of something, will you? Those bastards are about to go crazy!” Leidong looked miserable, eyes filled with a pleading sorrow as he stared at Lei Tiangang.

Lei Tiangang took his gaze off the computer screen, fixed it on Leidong, and after a long pause pulled on a stern face. “You want me to think of something? Who’s the acting squad leader? You or me? If your squad’s morale is a problem, it means you’re doing a poor job!”

Leidong’s face became even more miserable as he stammered, “But it can’t go on like this. How about you assign us a mission? Any mission, even just patrolling the streets and catching a few stragglers—we’re not picky…”

“Not picky? You think I’ve worked so hard just to turn you into plainclothes cops? Not picky? How about cleaning the base’s cesspool? You in or not? I keep you here because you’re useful—don’t be ungrateful!” Lei Tiangang unleashed a torrent of scolding, then suddenly snapped, “Trying to trick me, huh? Don’t forget, you’re my son. Playing games with me? You’re still too green!”

Seeing his intention exposed, Leidong’s misery vanished, replaced by a sycophantic grin as he flattered, “Of course, of course, who doesn’t know Dad’s brilliant and mighty...” Leaning forward, he tried to peek at Lei Tiangang’s computer screen.

Lei Tiangang shoved him away and gave him a hard rap on the head. “You want to rebel? Doing what Wuyun does? Dare to spy on military intelligence? Get out of here—right now!”

Leidong clutched his head and fled. Once out of sight, Lei Tiangang smiled faintly. “Damn, this should boost morale a bit. Trying to pull a fast one on me? Still green…”

He shook his head, smiled for a moment, then returned his gaze to the computer screen and quickly fell into deep thought.

Leidong rushed out of Lei Tiangang’s office, his embarrassment wiped clean, and returned to the dormitory cheerfully. Before he could even sit down, Wuyun and a few others hurried over, anxiously asking, “So, boss, did you find out anything?”

Leidong wasn’t in a hurry anymore. He plopped into a chair, adjusted for comfort, cleared his throat lightly, and said slowly, “Cigarette—”

“Here,” a cigarette was deftly placed in his mouth. With a crisp “click,” a lighter sparked to life, flames flickering before Leidong.

Lighting up, he took a deep drag, exhaled a perfect ring of smoke, and called out, “Tea—”

Soon, a steaming pot of tea was handed to him.

Leidong lifted the cup and took a small sip, then set it down gently as if it were a priceless porcelain vessel rather than a green military mug. He inhaled another puff of smoke, cleared his throat, and assumed the manner of a storyteller.

“So, I went into the director’s office. Guess what the director was doing?”

“What was he doing?”

“Guess...”

“Come on, damn it, just say it!”

“Less talk, spill it!”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t tell!”

Seeing everyone roll up their sleeves, Leidong dared not keep the secret. In this room, none cared whether he was their acting leader or a newly promoted major. If angered, they’d beat him without hesitation.

Covering his face with his hands, he said, “Don’t hit, don’t hit, I’ll tell—When I went in, the director was staring at his computer. I told him what we all agreed on: the men are frustrated and want the chief to give us a mission—even just patrolling the streets.”

“What did he say? How did the boss react?” The group bombarded him with questions.

Leidong imitated Lei Tiangang’s tone perfectly: “I worked hard to bring you out here just to make you plainclothes cops? Not picky? How about cleaning the base’s cesspool?”

Laughter filled the room as Leidong paused to deliver the key line everyone cared about: “The boss said, ‘I keep you for a reason. Don’t be ungrateful.’ You tell me—what does that mean? Doesn’t that mean we’re going to get a mission?”

“Really? The old man actually said that?”

“Of course! Also, I sneaked a peek at the computer while the old man was distracted. He was quick and pushed me away, but I caught a glimpse. Guess what was on the screen?” Leidong, unable to resist, teased again, his face showing excitement, surprise, and a bit of confusion.

“What was it?” The crowd, knowing this was the most crucial part, urged him to speak quickly.

“Heh heh heh…” Leidong grinned and strode over to the huge world map on the wall. Raising his right fist, he slammed it down on a point with a dull thud. His smile vanished, replaced by a grimace. “Here! He was looking here!”

“Whoa—”

“Whoa—”

A chorus of gasps filled the dormitory as everyone stared at the marked spot on the map, stunned.

After a long moment, Wuyun cautiously asked, “Boss, are you sure you didn’t see wrong?” Five pairs of eyes fixed on Leidong. He just smirked, too lazy to answer.

Only then did everyone look back at the map with unprecedented fervor—because that spot represented a place: the Jeppen Empire!

That tiny island nation off the eastern coast of the Republic, often described by the Republic as a “neighbor just across a narrow strait.”

The neighbor that, thousands of years ago, began sending envoys to thoroughly study the ancient Chakna culture and institutions.

The neighbor that, centuries ago, began persistent harassment and raids, bringing chaos to Chakna—the Wokoku.

The marauding country that started seizing the Republic’s lands hundreds of years ago.

The demon nation that, decades ago, launched large-scale invasions, killing compatriots and leaving devastation wherever it went, causing the Republic’s darkest, bloodiest era in history.

The defeated nation that refused to acknowledge its crimes post-war, instead aligning with its suzerain state to encircle and blockade the Republic with fickle hostility.

The arrogant country that, for nearly 30 years, has used its vast capital to erode the Republic economically, expanding its military to revive its militaristic dream and dominate all of Arthasia.

If every true Republic citizen—every one whose blood has not yet cooled—harbors a dream of war, their primary adversary is neither the Suss Federation, which occupies the largest portion of their territory, nor the Minya Federation, which once led the world order and blocked the Republic, nor the still-unified Treasure Island, but rather the Jeppen Empire—the “Little Devils”!

In the heart of every upright Republic citizen, only by erasing this kingdom riddled with evil and demonic sins from the map can the Republic cleanse its last trace of humiliation, break free from its final spiritual shackles, and soar like a dragon through the nine heavens!

If what Leidong said was true, and headquarters indeed planned to strike Jeppen—

“Damn it! This is going to be huge!” Six men raised their arms together, swinging them fiercely in the air!