Chapter 129: The Aftermath of the Bombardment (Part One)

Madame Gao drifted and drifted.

She felt like a dandelion caught in the wind. Watching the anti-aircraft flak barrage below—which had only just begun to intensify—Madame Gao was filled with immense resentment: *Where the hell were you bastards earlier?*

Opening fire now was likely to get her killed!

"An enemy paratrooper!" a Japanese soldier shouted, pointing at the sky.

"Idiot! Have you ever seen a paratrooper drop alone, and using our own parachute at that?" The sergeant beside him slapped the recruit across the forehead.

Would an elderly woman with her limbs severed serve as a piece of evidence for Japan to tearfully denounce the Japanese side? Of course not.

After Madame Gao was rescued, she suddenly discovered she had a major problem. Aside from crying and muttering the words "pain," "help," and "American" in Japanese, she couldn't say anything else. Even she felt like she had become mentally deranged.

This was understandable; for an old woman to have suffered such cruel torture and still be alive was nothing short of a miracle. She gazed with immense, spiteful rage in the direction the B-24 had vanished, silently vowing that one day, she would take revenge on those damned Russians.

On the plane, Natalia asked Mei Zemou, "Why didn't you kill Madame Gao? I have a bad feeling that she will appear before us again."

Mei Mumu smiled faintly and did not answer.

Killing Madame Gao would be satisfying, but not killing her might yield greater benefits. Given Madame Gao’s nature, she would certainly not let this rest.

So, what would happen?

If Madame Gao wanted to recover, she couldn't take the mechanical route. If she were to equip herself with four mechanical arms like the future Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, her martial arts—derived from K'un-Lun—would be rendered useless. Mechanical arms could not channel 'Chi.'

That left only one possibility: seeking help from the ancient evil deity known as "The Beast," with whom she had deep ties.

The Beast was a primal, bestial evil god that could possess a human body in a manner similar to soul-transmigration. It should have a way to restore Madame Gao’s severed limbs, though the price would be exorbitant. At a minimum, half of Madame Gao's soul would need to be sacrificed to The Beast, along with the consumption of over a thousand high-level souls—meaning individuals at least at the level of a Chunin or higher.

In other words, about half of the Hand’s core strength across the world would be wiped out. Madame Gao’s own loyalists would inevitably be completely eradicated. Even if Madame Gao tried to wheel and deal, the other four fingers would never agree to provide so many core members as sacrifices.

The final result would inevitably be that if Madame Gao wanted to make a comeback, the Hand would have to launch frantic attacks on major global powers. This would certainly accelerate the downfall of the Hand.

Mei Mumu sneered—the bait had been cast; whether Madame Gao chose to bite or not was her own business. Even if Madame Gao returned, the most likely outcome was that she would cause trouble for the Russians. By then, Mei Mumu would long since be gone from the Russian side. At most, Madame Gao might vent her anger on Natalia or Yelena.

"It is unlikely Madame Gao will return. But once she does, it will serve as a trial for you both. By passing her test, you will prove that you are qualified to stand by my side." Mei Mumu declared this to two generations of Black Widows.

Instead of feeling resentment, they found it only natural. After witnessing the many wonders of Mei Mumu, if he had simply told them they were already qualified, it would have felt like true abandonment.

"I will become stronger!" Natalia’s eyes ignited with a stubborn flame.

"Master, me too!" Yelena’s gaze was equally firm.

In the early morning of May 3, 1943, this night became unforgettable for the Japan of this parallel world. Within one hour, three major landmarks were bombed: a certain famous national shrine, the Army General Staff Office, and the Navy General Staff Office. The latter two, as vital command centers for the Japanese military, controlled the mobilization of millions of troops.

Especially with the recent shock that had rocked all of Japan—the plane carrying Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet, having been shot down by the Americans on April 18—this impact was like a magnitude-ten earthquake.

It was the middle of the night, and the important officers and high-ranking officials had all retired for the evening. Not a single high-ranking official was actually killed by the two 500-pound bombs, though a heap of staff officers and guards perished. Moreover, the two main military buildings were constructed of extremely sturdy reinforced concrete, so the actual structural damage was not significant.

However, the precision of the bombing cast a shadow over the entirety of Japan, and it served as an excellent means of stalling the Japanese military.

By morning, "Baka! Baka!" could be heard being shouted in almost every major Japanese official residence.

Conversely, the American side was celebrating across the nation. The B-29s were already capable of regular bombing runs, but because they were high-altitude, the results were usually mediocre; it served more as psychological deterrence. Having suddenly achieved results beyond expectations, even the father of a certain Iron Man was being praised to the heavens.

The U.S. military was actually confused. According to intelligence, it was a single B-24 bomber that had destroyed the three buildings using low-altitude tactics.

"Where did we get a B-24?"
"Could it be the Soviets?"

The Americans had guessed the truth, but when notified, the Soviet side issued a firm denial. The Soviet Union was busy counterattacking to regain lost territory; they had no time to provoke the Japanese. In fact, due to the tightening of the war, the Soviets had long since withdrawn a large number of elite troops from the Far East. The remaining units were largely penal battalions used merely for show. Only heaven knew what would happen if a real fight broke out.

Meanwhile, for the sake of the Southeast Asian theater, Japan had pinned its hopes on the formidable Kwantung Army to turn the tide, continuously withdrawing elite divisions from occupied Manchuria starting that year. Both sides had reached a tacit agreement of "declare but do not fight."

Only Stalin, in his lair, was laughing until his stomach cramped.

"Hahahaha! Hahahaha! Well bombed! Well bombed!" Of course, he knew who had done it.

First, crush the Hans in the west, then turn around and destroy the islanders in the east; this was national policy. National policy did not mean the Russian Bear could swallow this insult. In another history of a parallel world, once the Russian Bear caught its breath, it immediately wiped out the Kwantung Army.

Stalin had long despised the Japanese, but as a leader, one had to be cautious when necessary. Otherwise, if Germany and Japan had truly launched a pincer attack, it was uncertain whether the Allies would have won, and the Soviet Union would have either been destroyed or left severely crippled. If the Soviet Union were destroyed, it would be the so-called allies' turn to deal with the rest.

Historically, no country had ever fared well while fighting on two fronts.

Mei Mumu had certainly broken the rules, but he had completed his mission perfectly; all the bombing was just an added bonus.

"Damn, it would have been even better if they could have blown up their Emperor too," Stalin muttered.