I accidentally joined a group of charlatans, so I immediately called the police and handed it over t

The wind in the Qilian Mountains was still fierce, whipping up rough sand and gravel that lashed against the iron gate of the warehouse that had just been closed.

Inside the gate lies wealth enough to buy half the world; outside, however, lies a brewing storm capable of destroying the world.

The Western joint inspection team has left.

Covered in dust, with shattered dignity and the humiliating treaty they had signed, they fled this hellish arena known as "Base 001" in a panic, like a flock of plucked fighting cocks.

But the calm is merely the suffocating moment before the storm.

The Wall Street crash did not kill this greedy beast; instead, the intense pain aroused its most primal and bloodthirsty instincts.

That's the logic of a robber: if you can't cheat or buy it, then steal it.

Seventy-two hours later.

In the depths of the Pacific Ocean, the once azure sea surface was fragmented by a massive shadow.

Ford Carrier Strike Group

USS Ronald Reagan Carrier Strike Group

These two mobile steel fortresses, like two swords of Damocles, are tearing through the ocean waves, carrying seventy escort ships and one hundred and fifty fully loaded fighter jets, heading straight for the East China Sea with an overwhelming force.

At the press conference, the Pentagon spokesperson wore that nauseatingly serious expression, as if fighting for justice.

"Given the recent instability in East Asia and the malicious monopolistic practices of certain countries in securing key resources, we have no choice but to take necessary deterrent actions in order to safeguard the right to freedom of navigation."

This is no longer even a cover-up.

This is blatant probing of the brink of war.

It's like putting a cannon to your head, forcing you to spit out everything you've eaten, with interest.

Base 001, underground command center.

The command center was filled with smoke, and the tarry smell of cheap cigarettes made people's throats tighten. Every breath was filled with suffocating anxiety.

Li Guobang stood in front of that huge electronic sand table for three whole hours without moving an inch.

His eyes were bloodshot, like an old lion trapped in a cage, staring intently at the two approaching red shadows on the screen.

That's not just two carrier strike groups.

That was the most powerful naval strike force in human history, a catastrophe hanging over the heads of 1.4 billion people.

"It's 400 nautical miles from the territorial sea baseline."

Li Guobang's voice was hoarse, like two pieces of rusted iron rubbing together.

He didn't turn around, but everyone could hear the suppressed tremor in his voice.

It was anger, but even more so, an unfathomable sense of powerlessness.

"Old Li, your cigarette is about to trigger the alarm."

Chen Xi sat on the "Throne of Radium" that had just been transported back to the command center, casually toying with the fragment of the Treasure Bowl that he hadn't had time to put away yet.

He crossed his legs, his posture as languid as if he were sunbathing in his own backyard, completely out of place with the tense and imminent atmosphere of the entire command center.

Li Guobang suddenly turned around and strode up to Chen Xi.

He braced his hands on the cold armrests of the throne, leaning forward, veins bulging on his deeply lined old face.

"Chen Xi! Look carefully!"

Li Guobang pointed at the big screen, his fingers trembling.

"That's an aircraft carrier! A real war machine! Not some kind of concoction of bottles and jars we concoct in a laboratory!"

"Even if we have rhenium and the technology for single-crystal blades, those are just blueprints! They are raw materials!"

"Turning them into sixth-generation fighter jets that can fly and nuclear submarines that can go to sea will take at least three years! Three years!"

Li Guobang's voice was tinged with sobs, a lament of a general facing a powerful enemy, regretting that he had no sword in his hand.

"They're right here in our neighborhood, and in three days they'll be able to poop on our necks!"

"What do you want me to do? Use these bricks to smash their planes?!"

Chen Xi raised his eyelids, and in his deep eyes, he saw the flashing red light on the big screen, but there was no fear in them.

He reached out and gently patted Li Guobang's hand, whose knuckles were bruised from excessive force.

"Old Li, calm down."

Chen Xi's tone was calm and steady, like a pillar of strength, which effectively suppressed Li Guobang's agitated anger.

"They're gambling."

Chen Xi got up and walked to the screen, glancing at the two arrogant shadows, and let out a cold sneer of extreme contempt.

"They're betting we won't dare fire the first shot."

"They're betting that our only trump card is those materials."

"What a pity..."

Chen Xi shook his head, a sly glint in his eyes.

"They don't realize that some forces in this world are unreasonable."

"Some anger is something these mortals simply cannot bear."

Li Guobang was stunned. He stared at Chen Xi's back as that familiar, chilling premonition surged into his heart once again.

"What...what do you want to do?"

Chen Xi did not answer.

He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket; it was the only connection to the Thirty-Three Heavens.

On the screen, the icon of the Heavenly Court chat group was jumping wildly, and the red "99+" unread messages seemed to foreshadow another storm.

Chen Xi opened the group chat.

The first message I saw was that hot-tempered Lei Gong (a character from Journey to the West) spamming the screen.

[Thunder God]: I'm so angry! I'm so angry!!

[Thunder God]: Where is that Marvel screenwriter? I'll strike him dead with a bolt of lightning!

[Lei Gong]: The mighty Thunder God! The deity who commands the power of thunder! Has he actually turned into a fat, beer-drinking, pot-bellied bastard?!

[Thunder God]: He was being rubbed into the ground by that purple sweet potato spirit? Was that thunder magic? That looked like a water gun!

[Lei Gong]: Is this how mortals see the God of Thunder? Is this their understanding of power?

[Thunder God]: @Newcomer reporting in, please protect me, kid! You be the judge! Can you tolerate this?!

Even through the screen, Chen Xi could feel how furious and humiliated the great god who was in charge of the heavenly tribulation was at this moment.

What do immortals care about most?

face.

Especially for a warrior like Lei Gong, known for his violent aesthetics, seeing his image as a coward in a mortal film is a psychological blow that is worse than being killed.

Chen Xi smiled.

He laughed like a fox that had just stolen some fish.

He turned around and looked at Li Guobang, who looked bewildered, with a flame of ambition burning in his eyes.

"Old Li."

"Get me a boat."

Li Guobang hadn't caught up with him yet: "A boat? What kind of boat? For escaping?"

"No."

Chen Xi extended a finger and gently tapped the big screen.

It was located exactly at a naval port of the East China Sea Fleet.

"I want the biggest, newest, and most imposing destroyer."

"Ideally, it should be the kind where you can take the cannon barrel off and put some 'new gadgets' on it."

Li Guobang's eyes widened: "What do you need destroyers for? Are you crazy? They're the navy's most prized possessions!"

"My darling?"

Chen Xi chuckled softly, his gaze piercing through the thick rock layers, as if he could see the raging sea about to surge.

"I'm going to turn this piece of meat into those foreign devils' nightmare."

"By the way..."

Chen Xi glanced at the still rampaging Thunder God on his phone screen, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Find a place for an old man who's really angry to vent his frustration."

"His anger is far more terrifying than those two aircraft carriers."