Chapter Sixty-Two: The Ultra-Laser Weapon

With a sharp snap, the light flickered on once more. Zhou Hongye still turned his head to look at Chen Cao. Now, he truly was powerless; he could not afford to make a move. Even if he did, the outcome would remain unchanged—he was helpless. At least, trapped within this claustrophobic space, drawing on all he had learned in 0611, he could not conceive of any way out.

At this moment, however, Chen Cao seemed almost exhilarated. While the light lasted, he hastily strode to the fallen warriors he had defeated, collecting their weapons. With a clatter, his hands worked nimbly, dismantling them into a pile of scattered components, which he arranged side by side.

“Brother Chen, what are you doing?” Zhou Hongye asked, puzzled as he lay on the table. In this life-or-death situation, he couldn’t believe that Chen Cao would have the mind to amuse himself with disassembling and reassembling firearms.

Chen Cao, still fiddling with the parts under the lamp, gave a sly smile and replied, “You’ll see soon enough. Even a clever fox like you couldn’t imagine something as fun as this!”

Saying no more, he focused in the lamplight, piecing together the components one by one.

Suddenly, with a sharp click, the light went out again. In the darkness, only the sounds of Chen Cao’s hands at work could be heard.

Outside the command vehicle of the Second Mountain Division, a row of heavily armed Allied soldiers stood at attention.

Colonel Ian stood before them. No longer did he look the part of a defeated officer; he now wore immaculate desert digital camouflage, his gaze steady as he surveyed the assembled Marines.

Not far away, artillery and gunfire grew ever more intense, flashes of flame lighting the night, their positions revealed by the coordinates relayed by military intelligence. The density of the shelling made clear that the battle had reached a stalemate.

Yet before Major Ian, the Marines stood unmoved.

For in their eyes, this major was no ordinary commander. After graduating from the prestigious Mainz Military Academy, he had gone directly into the nation’s elite Marine Corps, personally selected by General Conrad to serve under Major General Harris of the Second Mountain Division—who was not only his superior, but his mentor.

This was only the surface of his glory. What truly commanded the Marines’ respect was his record. Since arriving at Oderlu, this young Major had participated in a hundred operations, each accomplished with minimal casualties. He was the blade of the Second Mountain Division and the entire Allied force on land. In this, his hundredth battle, he had tasted defeat for the first time—just a few hours before.

Now, this warrior who had just clawed his way back from hell stood before them once more. But why?

The soldiers wondered. Why had Major Ian pulled them so urgently from the Allied frontlines, outfitted them with both mountain and desert gear? What was the mission?

“Comrades, just hours ago, we suffered a bitter defeat. Hundreds of our fellows fell!” Ian spoke, and every soldier bowed his head. This was the first defeat for the Mainz Democratic Federation Army since the World War—painful indeed for those hailed as the ‘world’s policemen.’

Apart from the distant thunder of artillery, the silence was so deep one could hear every heartbeat.

Ian’s gaze swept over the soldiers. “I know you must resent being pulled from the front, unable to avenge our brothers. I resent it too. But after hearing the general’s orders, I no longer complain, for I now understand the greatness of this mission!”

Every soldier looked up, their eyes fixed on their commander, caught by that single word—“greatness.”

Ian wasted no more words. He produced a device like a smartphone, pressed a button on the screen, and said, “The mission has been sent to your personal systems. You have three minutes to study the targets’ faces, locate them, and take them out. Move out—regroup in five minutes for boarding!”

The soldiers immediately pulled out their own devices. As they looked at the screens, their faces flushed with excitement.

Yes, revenge—how best to avenge their fallen? Not just by killing terrorists, no! What could be more satisfying than eliminating the leaders of the terror organization—Sebastian and Alfred?

The armed helicopter’s rotors were already spinning. Escorted by two stealth bombers and two unmanned attack drones, it soared into the sky, soon vanishing into the night ablaze with gunfire.

Inside the command vehicle, the signal transmitter continued its unceasing beeping.

Major General Harris watched the helicopters spiral upward, pressing the call button on the phone.

On the video screen, General Conrad, his hair snow-white, seemed to have aged years in an instant.

“Sir, Ian’s special ops team has set out,” Harris reported.

“These are all elite commandos. Sending them deep into enemy territory—I almost can’t bear it!” General Conrad struck a match and puffed on his pipe.

“They’ll never be true soldiers until they’ve faced death for real.” Harris lit a cigarette himself, taking a long, deep drag, his gaze turning somber through the swirling smoke.

General Conrad set his pipe aside. “You’re right; this is a military mission, but also a political one. Otherwise, how would the president answer to parliament? We must beat the others to it. The outcome of the war is no longer in question, but Alfred and Sebastian must fall by Mainz’s hand. Otherwise, it will influence the president’s re-election. The politicians behind the scenes are all waiting for a show.”

“Hmph, a bunch of ignorant politicians who know nothing of war,” Harris scoffed, flicking away his cigarette butt.

“Public opinion still matters. Now it’s up to Ian and his team. I’ve already ordered the Intelligence Division to give them full support,” Conrad’s eyes flashed suddenly.

“The Intelligence Division? Aren’t they already at the front?” Harris asked, puzzled.

General Conrad gave a sly, cryptic smile. “That’s our secret strength on the battlefield. I doubt you’d ever guess.”

By the time the light came on again, Chen Cao had finished his masterpiece.

The gun barrels had been extended as far as possible, directly connected to the iron door. All sorts of components were interlocked, resembling a half-human-sized robot. Its limbs, made from gun stocks, crouched on the floor, its ‘nose’ stretched long, while the opposite end—tubes formed from barrels—pointed at the table where Zhou Hongye lay.

Zhou Hongye stared, dumbfounded at Chen Cao’s contraption, unable to help but ask, “What are you...”

Without a word, Chen Cao came over, lifted Zhou Hongye off the table, and propped him against the wall. After gazing at the lamp for a moment, he muttered, “Looks like there aren’t enough parts.” Then, dragging another corpse onto the table, he wrapped its hand around the gun barrel, stripped off the robe, and with a curved blade, cut it into strips, tying them together.

With this done, the light went out with a sharp snap.

In the darkness, Chen Cao groped around, attaching the cloth strips as cords to the frame of assembled parts, testing their length.

Zhou Hongye could only sense, in the dark, that Chen Cao was quietly counting: “One, two, three...”

Then, the light flashed on again. Chen Cao was already standing by the table.

“What on earth are you up to? Don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic and have lost your mind!” Zhou Hongye said.

But Chen Cao ignored him, simply picking up the sharp curved blade and, with a swift motion, slashed down the lightbulb, plunging the room into darkness.

In the blackness, Zhou Hongye could see only fleeting shadows. He knew there were only two living souls in this confined space—himself, paralyzed, and Chen Cao.

Suddenly, he felt Chen Cao return to his side, quietly counting, “One, two, three...”

Then, with a crack, a blinding flash erupted at the table. Zhou Hongye stared as a powerful electric current shot along the gun barrel, like a laser, striking the iron door with a resounding crash.

At that moment, Zhou Hongye realized that a narrow gap had been blasted into the iron door by the current. It was small, but after days trapped in a room less than ten square meters, the rush of fresh air was unmistakable.

So that was it—Chen Cao intended to use the electric current to force the door. The unstable voltage of the lamp, flickering on and off, meant the current surged erratically. And, by electrical principles, the first current was often the strongest. This unreliable current created a natural switch, giving Chen Cao time to prepare.

Again, Zhou Hongye sensed movement from Chen Cao, and another surge of electricity shot down the gun barrel, slamming into the door. This time, the acrid scent of burning flesh drifted over.

Zhou Hongye was no fool; even with his basic understanding, he realized the scorched smell came from the corpse used as a conductor. Chen Cao hadn’t enough parts to reach the wire above the table, so he used the body to complete the circuit.

Still, to adapt such a simple electrical principle to this degree—what kind of mind did Chen Cao possess?

At the gap in the iron door, after two great electrical blasts and the careful manipulation of the cloth cord, a half-meter-long fissure had formed.

Chen Cao, still holding the cord, muttered to himself, “Not so thick after all. But that body can’t take much more. If one more try doesn’t do it, I’ll have to risk fetching another, and if I misjudge the timing and the current surges, I’ll be the one getting roasted!”

Now, even Zhou Hongye was taut with tension, holding his breath. He knew the corpse was already charred, its conductivity much diminished. If another body had to be hauled up and the timing was off, when the current surged, it would be Chen Cao—alive—who’d be burnt.

The Flame King 62—Flame King Full Text Free Reading—Chapter Sixty-Two: Super Laser Weapon Updated!

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