Chapter 7: The Explosion of the .45 Bullet

He started talking, showing the guy his phone’s contact list. The attendant glanced at it—sure enough, it was legit. He looked around; no one else was nearby at this hour. “You come with me,” he said, leading Xiaoqiang to a small storefront sixty meters from the gas station. He pulled out a 30-liter can of gasoline. “Two hundred bucks per can. The fuel’s solid—perfect for ride-hailing cars. I’m doing a favor for a friend. You’re lucky timing-wise. Try another day? No way.”

Wang Xiaoqiang stepped forward quickly. “Got it, got it! Thanks so much—you’ve really saved my ass. Got any more? One more can, please. The place I’m heading is super remote—no gas stations on the map. Don’t want to get stranded on the road.”

The attendant eyed Xiaoqiang, then turned and grabbed another can. “The cans cost extra, though. Two cans, plus I’ll throw in a siphon hose. Total: four forty. Fair price, right?”

Xiaoqiang gave him a big thumbs-up. “Bro, you’re straight-up good people.” He instantly sent the money via mobile transfer, then lifted both cans—one under each arm—with zero effort, striding toward his car. The attendant’s jaw dropped open in shock.

Back in the car, Xiaoqiang shoved the cans into the gap behind the rear seat. He glanced at his phone—the messaging app flashed a red alert: *Server connection lost. Unable to refresh.* He didn’t dwell on it. Turned on the headlights, signaled left, and merged onto the highway. At 4:30 a.m., the freeway was nearly empty. He floored it, rocketing up to 140 km/h, speeding toward Dajian City.

Ten thousand kilometers away, in the scorched wasteland of the White Eagle Nation, multiple institutions—Presidential Palace, Defense Department, Intelligence Agency, Congress, Parliament—were simultaneously hit by remote strikes. The air defense systems had given no warning. Judging by the intensity, it was likely a series of small tactical weapons, multiple strike points. Survey teams inside the blast zones transmitted data back to the emergency war command center at record speed.

General Arthur, the highest-ranking officer in the temporary command hub, stared at the report. His yellow hair stood on end like a rooster in full battle mode. He roared across the office complex, fury boiling over. “It was neutron bombs! This is inhuman terrorism! Which madman did this? I’ll personally execute him!”

Everyone in the room froze, hearts pounding.

For 250 years since founding, their nation had never felt war’s claws on its soil. No one dared bring the fire of conflict to this fertile continent. They were the players of the world game, commanding nations. And now, without warning, the shadow of war had fallen upon them—sudden, terrifying, unstoppable. Fear began spreading like wildfire.

“Any results on the missile trajectory? Why didn’t our early-warning system trigger? Why didn’t the Thunder God supercomputer issue an analysis report?”

Arthur’s patience had snapped. It had been fifty minutes since the attack began—50 minutes of silence, no useful intel. That was unthinkable in modern warfare. A single such lapse could destroy a nation dozens of times over.

Pacing frantically, Arthur couldn’t contain his rising rage. He’d survived countless battles, faced death head-on, remained calm under fire. But now, nothing worked. Nuclear attack—something he’d only ever inflicted on others—had just struck his homeland. And not a single clue had reached him beforehand. As a veteran warhawk, he’d seen firsthand what nuclear devastation looked like. Now, fear gripped him, raw and undeniable. He needed answers. Who was the enemy? Why? None of that mattered anymore.

Report: “Naga System damage assessment complete. The capital district was hit by three long-range intercontinental missiles, each carrying 60 neutron warheads. Instant fatality rate exceeded 95%. The remaining 5% are expected to die within two weeks—cause: neutron radiation. Ground structure loss: 12%. Neutron radiation will dissipate within 24 hours.”

Silence. Absolute silence. Then, a whimper. Then another. Soon, sobbing filled the room. Staff members broke down, unable to hold back grief. This wasn’t war—it was slaughter. Everyone here knew their loved ones would never return. Grief, rage, terror—all surged through the chamber.

Arthur’s eyes turned bloodshot. Veins bulged on his forehead. His face flushed crimson. “Who’s the enemy? I need names!” His roar shattered the ceiling of the command center, a declaration of vengeance about to ignite.

Suddenly—*beep-beep-beep-beep!*—a piercing alarm blared through the entire hall. Every screen flashed red, displaying a single line of urgent text:

“Thunder God has taken over wartime communications system. Code issued: 2FD8EZJ.”
“Repeat: Thunder God has taken over wartime communications system. Code issued: 2FD8EZJ.”
“Repeat: Thunder God has taken over wartime communications system. Code issued: 2FD8EZJ.”

Arthur tore open his shirt, yanked out a tactical key, and unlocked the safe behind him. Inside lay a tactical card—its code matched perfectly: 2FD8EZJ. He jammed the key into the terminal on the desk.

“System confirmed. Initiating overwrite of Naga System… Data update in progress… System takeover complete… Commencing data transmission…”

The screens flickered. All computers displayed the same image: the President and Cabinet members in a sealed underground bunker.

The President’s chief secretary spoke: “At 2:45 p.m., the Thunder God system was attacked by numerous foreign supercomputers. Emergency defense protocols activated. The President has been urgently evacuated to the bunker. Presidential order now being issued.”

On screen, the President looked disheveled, even ragged—but his voice carried iron resolve.

“This is President Yellen Smith of the White Eagle Nation. At 2:45 p.m., our military command system suffered a cyberattack by hostile supercomputers, disabling our air defenses.”

“At 3:00 p.m., the capital district was struck by neutron bombs. Based on calculations from the bunker’s Thunder God system, the attack coordinates are: Latitude 78.3°N, Longitude 116.7°E. Target identified: the Bear Nation’s tactical nuclear submarine *Gurjeliev*, armed with ‘Tooth’ intercontinental ballistic missiles.”

“Since our countermeasures triggered Level 1 readiness, the enemy has locked onto 5,890 strategic targets across our territory. Our space surveillance stations have detected massive troop movements and multiple new strategic missile sites.”

“We are facing a second wave of nuclear strikes. I hereby declare: the White Eagle Nation is now at war with the Bear Nation and all its allies. All military units will receive tactical orders, marking enemy and allied targets. Launch windows are set. Missiles must be fired on schedule to destroy these objectives. For densely populated areas—neutron bombs. For major farmland regions—high-yield atomic warheads. Cut off every supply line. Simultaneously, we release national evacuation guidelines. Underground shelters will open nationwide.”

“Citizens of the White Eagle Nation—fight for our rights. Fight for our freedom. We will stand and fight to the last breath.”