"Cohen, how's that spaceship coming?" I'd planned to teleport to the Demon Realm with magic, but it didn't work. Guess we're sticking to the spaceship attack plan. "Your Majesty, you're anxious, I'm anxious. It was almost done, but I had a better idea, so I tweaked it, slowing things down. You know me—no 'best,' only 'better,'" Cohen said, dead serious. If that's the case, forget the damn ship. "I get it, but the war's tight. Save your bright ideas for the next ship. I just need one that can fire missiles, OK?"
"I understand. Two months, it'll be ready." Cohen's a headache—weird stuff always happens with him. Sixty-five and he popped out a kid. Gotta respect that.
During the grand court assembly, my phone rang. "Tian, it's started!" Xue'er's voice came through.
"What's started?" I asked.
"M-country's teamed up with T and Z to attack. J-country's with HC's coalition, and YB—all at once. The MT coalition's landed at Zhanjiang."
"Alright, don't panic. Listen: pull our miracle drugs from M-country and J-country, and evacuate our employees from war-threatened cities to Yellow Dragon Island."
"Are we sending troops now?"
"Wait till I'm back." I understood Xue'er's mood—every Chinese descendant hates invaders at our door.
"A-Bao, get your Black Dragon Legion ready. You know we're at war with M-country. Move your troops to Dragon Pass to block any sudden demon attacks."
"Yes, assembling now!" A-Bao cut off the video phone to relay orders.
"Oula, gather the First Division of the Imperial Guard and all magic-martial mechs. We're heading back to Earth." I hung up, finally exhaling.
Magic-martial mechs, as the name suggests, blend magic and martial arts. Made from new materials, they're easy to operate, agile, and a masterpiece of alchemy (alchemy's basically magic plus modern tech). Perfect for long-range and close combat, equipped with laser swords and cannons for all-angle fighting.
"Tian, you're back!" Xue'er grabbed my hand.
"What's the situation?" I asked.
"Over two hundred thousand civilian casualties. They're attacking indiscriminately."
"Damn, these guys have no humanity."
"Are we sending troops? The losses will grow," Xue'er urged.
"Sometimes I'm pissed, hating how our country can't shake off pointless traditional humility. But it's my homeland, and I love it. We can't send troops yet. It's laughable—their intent's so obvious, yet we don't fire, issuing 'warnings' to show we love peace, forgetting preemptive strikes. Was it worth losing hundreds of thousands?" Xue'er hugged my waist, comforting me. "We can't just rely on our eyes—prevention's been forgotten."
"Alright, hubby, when do we send troops?" Xue'er couldn't stay calm.
"No rush. We don't need to help yet. M-country knows this strike's enough. They get we're not Iraq. It's about shock value, flexing to other nations. Letting T fight is framed as a civil war. T won't gain much from the mainland—small wins now, but they'll lose in the end," I said, fuming.
"How're you so sure M-country won't march north?" Xue'er asked, puzzled.
"Think about it. If they marched north, it's outright invasion. Why not hit the capital directly for a surprise? Also, has J-country kept attacking? No. It's clear they teamed with M-country to weaken our and HC's military, wiping out a decade of our arms buildup. This forces our three nations into an arms race, draining us, while they flex their might."
"Their motives are vile," Xue'er said, angry.
"Emotionally, yes. Competitively, they're right. No one wants a strong rival blocking their growth. Eliminate early, save effort. I'd do the same," I explained.
"No way I'd let you!" Xue'er, now a mom, still threw tantrums.
"Fine, fine, I won't, my dear wife." Xue'er grinned. "M-country was facing off with the Middle East. How'd they suddenly hit us?"
"Call it 'feint east, strike west'—preemptive. Their Middle East standoff was about oil. M-country could crush ZD nations, but if war breaks out and ZD wrecks their oil fields, M-country's screwed, not ZD. ZD's people are the world's richest—they've made bank for half a century. A five-year pause is just money lost. Pump oil again, cash flows, nothing changes. M-country imports eighty percent of its oil from ZD. A week without it sparks an economic crisis. Their ZD 'war' was small-time. The real goal: hit us to stall our growth and intimidate ZD. A two-birds-one-stone plan. They prepped for this, or why face off with ZD so long, sending four carrier groups but not fighting? If we'd been alert, we'd have fired the moment they came, no warnings. M-country's intent was too obvious—they'd have no excuse."
"Doesn't M-country worry about all-out war with us?"
"Neither side's declared war. M-country's troops haven't set foot here—just T's. They'll deny it all. Invading territorial waters or airspace? Not their first rodeo."
"We'll serve M-country and little JBs a nice dish soon," I whispered, kissing Xue'er's ear.
"What dish?"
"Our air carrier will stroll through M-country's Area 51 and New York, then let little JBs' warships get swallowed by a sudden tsunami."
"Sounds good, but we're at war. If we do this, everyone'll know it's us. Won't that give them an excuse?" Xue'er worried.
"Don't worry, babe. It's 'feign emptiness, strike solid; solid within empty, empty within solid.' If they think it's our nation, would a country with that power let hundreds of thousands die? No one uses that many as bait. With our strength, hitting their homeland before their fleet makes no sense. Even if you say it's us, no one'll believe it."
"Launch!" I pressed the red button. From Yellow Dragon Island's sea rose an alien UFO—my whim-turned-reality air carrier, like the one in Dinosaur Squadron Koseidon, but way stronger. A mobile sky fortress with anti-gravity, laser cannons, and electromagnetic cannons. Fully stealth—invisible to eyes and radar. Watching the fortress vanish, it was my turn. I headed to the Japan Sea to whip up some typhoons and tsunamis. Wasting my epic magic skills would be a crime, and I hadn't stretched in months. Time to loosen up. Haha, little JBs, I'm back, and this'll hit harder than last time!
The next day, post-bombing, we sat watching TV, savoring victory. Domestic news first: "This morning, MJ unilaterally withdrew. T's army is still charging north but was stopped by our brave People's Liberation Army at Jinji Mountain."
Switching to international channels, a pretty M-country white girl with red, swollen eyes reported live: "Yesterday, 6 p.m. M-country time, our great nation suffered a brutal alien attack. Behind me, you see New York destroyed in bombardment." (The aerial view of New York had us cheering—perfect, a modern ruin!) "As we wondered if aliens exist, they came, bringing death's light and heavy disaster. Thirty million dead, over ten million injured, fewer than a thousand unscathed. M-country weeps. Area 51 was hit too, with twenty thousand military casualties. Area 51—everyone knows what it is. Legends of strange events started here. Some say we got an alien spaceship. Before, we'd laugh it off, but today, we can't. They came, took the ship that crashed on Earth."
"We interviewed three Area 51 survivors. Let's hear their accounts:
Soldier A: "Yesterday, we three were on leave, not home, drinking at a bar. Soon, we heard explosions. The ground shook hard. Only a military zone bomb or missile could cause that, so we ran out."
Soldier B: "Yeah, the whole space trembled. Right after we left, the bar collapsed. God saved us once."
Soldier C: "It was nearly 6 p.m., sky darkening. Suddenly, countless light beams shot from black clouds—probably laser cannons. The spinning light scattered like sparks on a grindstone, hitting the ground, causing massive explosions."
Soldier A: "We couldn't stand there waiting to die. Their attack was too strong. We ran to an abandoned anti-aircraft bunker."
Soldier B: "God, you know what we saw? From the black clouds emerged—God, a sci-fi sky fortress. Shocking."
Soldier C: "No Earth military gear looks like that. Anyone with basic knowledge would know. Its massive body nearly covered Area 51. We stopped thinking, just stared as it hovered."
Soldier B: "Then, a huge circular hatch opened beneath its wheel-like body. A giant beam shot down, and soon, a cocoon-like thing broke from the ground, sucked into the fortress. Looked like a small ship, probably theirs, but outdated compared to the fortress."
Soldier A: "About three minutes later, a solid beam fired from the hatch. Centered on its point, the ground rippled outward, exploding like waves." (Damn, not bad for the new-age mafia—creative! Gotta reward them big. If we film this, we're rich, heh.)
Soldier C: "Then everything went black. We woke when rescuers dug us out. A bit later, and we'd be meeting God."
From these accounts, it's clear the aliens came to reclaim a long-lost ship, likely a critical survey vessel with something they needed. Why else return after sixty years for an outdated ship? Now, we must analyze all Area 51 alien rumors. Some say we saved a living alien from the crash. Let's ask the president about this.
"Mr. President, it's no secret we acquired an alien ship. Did we really save an alien? The aliens attacked New York after taking the ship, clearly furious, suggesting the ship didn't have who they were looking for."
"I'm sorry this happened on my watch. Your analysis is correct. It was classified, but it's no secret now. We saved the alien and tried communicating, but failed. It died after twenty years, and we cremated the body."
"Will they come back?" the reporter asked. "I hope not. May God bless His people." (Praying to God? Might as well pray to me.)
Then, little JBs' news: "We suffered a century-scale tsunami and storm. The entire Navy Self-Defense Force was destroyed, no survivors. The nation mourns."
Other nations sent condolences for the dead. ZCH's three nations held massive civilian celebrations. Tonight's no ordinary night. Yes, tonight I'm robbing.
On this chaotic night, not robbing would insult my new-age mafia CEO genius. The US, Japan, and Taiwan's economies will tank. Post-9/11, markets crashed—imagine now. I had subsidiaries in these regions jack up prices, then sent Dark Dragon and my Iron Guards to rob banks and jewelry stores. With our skills and tech, it was overkill. I thought about taking all their gold but took half instead. Why? Taking it all would break the world's balance. M-country and J-country's economies are crippled, and China's rise is unstoppable. Steady steps ensure we handle any crisis. The world's destined for the dragon.
They fit our great Chairman Mao's saying: "All reactionaries are paper tigers." How else did I snag sixty trillion bucks and two million tons of gold, plus lowball buy up tons of companies? Can't stop a man from striking it rich.
(*One lackey said we're not revolting anymore. I beat him silly. No revolution? We're reforming the mafia! America's "anti-terror" crusade targets us, so they're our reactionaries. The guy didn't get it, so I sent him to our women's barracks to collect "red packets" for three years. That taught him America's evil. Our chat went like this:
"Have you seen America's evil and reactionary nature?" I asked.
"Your Majesty, I deeply understand now. I was young, ignorant, and unenlightened," he said respectfully.
"Oh? Share your insights. How woke are you?" I asked, curious.
"Your Majesty, you said mafia life follows the 'Four Loves'—observe life, seize opportunities, care for every sister's health, no shame in rank, all working for our mafia family."
"Right. Made any big discoveries? Or did M-country's 'peaceful evolution' infiltrate our camp?" I asked, shocked.
"M-country's inhumane! They're cutting corners on girls' sanitary pads. I used to collect a basket daily—now barely a bucket. Not fewer, but lighter, and worse quality."
"What? That's sabotage, undermining us! If our sisters' health suffers, it'll hurt our next generation's fitness. This is serious. I'm sending you to M-country to buy a sanitary pad factory. Make top-quality pads for our group and China's sisters and aunties, got it?"
"Your Majesty, I'll treat it as critical. I've suffered too," he said, pained.
"You use them?" I asked, confused.
"Not me—my wife. Those pads caused inflammation, affecting her womb. Our three-month-old baby was lost. Sob. So, for others and myself, I'll get this done."
"Good. I promote you to two-star Major. Do well."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"*)