Chapter Seven: The Curtain Falls on the Farce

“Denson, it’s not too late to give up now,” the voice over the radio persisted. “Think about your brother, think about the comrades who have risked their lives alongside you. Do you really want them to die with you in a war that’s doomed to fail?”

But these words failed to reach the madness that had consumed Denson. In his eyes, even with more than twenty RPGs aimed at him, he was certain he would emerge victorious and wipe out those arrogant fools once and for all.

Denson’s madness was his alone; his followers had not lost their senses. They only believed in their overwhelming firepower and feared no one. The mission was simply to parade in tanks, to show their might. Yet, when they realized the situation was far from smooth and their lives might be at stake, their courage faltered.

The first to surrender was a comrade driving an armored vehicle, who climbed out and raised his hands. As the manufacturer of these vehicles, they knew well what fate awaited once a rocket struck. While the armor could withstand AK bullets, a rocket launcher meant certain death.

Once one surrendered, others quickly followed. Soon, all the combatants from Jianglu, save for Denson, crouched on the ground with their heads down, looking as withered as frostbitten eggplants.

Denson remained oblivious to this. Inside the tank, he continued to fantasize about how he would deal with those rats hiding in the prison. “Attack!” With a grand gesture, he slammed the accelerator to the floor.

The Type 98 main battle tank, despite lacking ammunition, boasted a formidable 1,500-horsepower diesel engine. Its roar echoed as the 52-ton behemoth barreled forward, capable of inflicting immeasurable damage on any building in its path—surely a more thrilling feeling than crushing the pulverizer beneath its treads.

But Denson’s good feeling was short-lived. The moment he pressed the accelerator, a rocket trailing white smoke ended it all. Though the rocket failed to penetrate the Type 98’s armor, which rivaled that of the American M1A2 tank, it shattered the fragile tracks, abruptly halting the tank’s brief rampage.

The farce came to an end. Dozens of Jianglu operatives lined up obediently while Zhao Qiang and his team secured their capture. Nearby, Denson was dragged from the tank, unconscious and limp like a dead fish.

“Do you know why you failed?” The voice was familiar as Denson awoke from darkness. The cramped tank cabin was gone, replaced by the stark confines of a prison cell.

It was him! Denson remembered—the voice was the same as earlier. “Who are you? What do you want?” The madness within him finally extinguished, replaced by a deep, gnawing fear.

“Does it matter who I am?” The voice’s owner emerged from the shadows. Zhao Qiang, slightly stout, stood before him. “You are Denson?” Zhao squinted, scrutinizing the man who had tried to destroy his homeland.

“Yes,” Denson sighed, collapsing onto the cot like a deflated balloon. Everything before had been a fleeting dream, one cut short before the final scene, transforming him from a General Patton figure into a prisoner. “I take full responsibility. You may do as you wish to me, but please spare my brother.”

Regret washed over Denson. He wished he had heeded his brother’s counsel instead of stubbornly pressing on. Now, it was too late—everything he had, including his brother, was in the hands of the man before him. Their fates hung on a single thought.

“Do you think you have the right to bargain with us now?” Zhao smiled, his tone icy.

“As a loser, I have no right to negotiate,” Denson replied, turning his gaze away, eyes vacant. “I don’t believe I have any reason to live. But I ask you to remember we are all survivors and spare the others. They only followed my orders. I alone bear the blame.”

Zhao’s eyes narrowed further, his smile deepening. “If you say so, then you must understand why you failed, right?”

“For a dying man, you still won’t miss any chance to humiliate him?” Denson’s anger flared despite his acceptance of defeat and guilt. He could bear the guilt but not the insult.

“Victory depends on battle, timing, terrain, and people,” Zhao explained, ignoring the anger. “Your attack’s timing differed from our expectations, but we were prepared—call that a draw. This is our territory; we know the terrain, and you came from afar—terrain advantage lost to you. As for people, I needn’t elaborate.” He paused. “Next time, don’t make the same mistakes.”

“Next time?” Denson chuckled bitterly. “Will I even get a next time?”

“Why not?” Zhao smiled, the coldness gone. “Did I say I’d kill you? You caused no real harm. You even helped me blow up that hated Japanese vehicle. Honestly, I’ve never liked that car.”

“Then why am I locked up here?” Denson shouted, incredulous. As a failed invader, death would have been the fitting punishment.

“Because there’s not enough room in their cells. This is their own dormitory, brother.” Deng Lei, seated in a wheelchair, was pushed inside.

Having received assurances that Denson would not be harmed, Deng Lei and others from Jianglu waited quietly outside. They hoped the man who once managed the Jianglu Machinery Factory so efficiently would awaken from this madness and lead Jianglu toward a hopeful future, rather than descend into reckless warmongering.

Deng Lei had worried Zhao Qiang would take extreme measures against the invaders, restricting their freedom at least. But none of that happened. Everyone received fair and just treatment as Zhao had promised—not blamed, but provided accommodation and food.

That was why Deng Lei chose this moment to interrupt Zhao’s conversation with Denson, not wanting misunderstandings to breed further suspicion.

Witnessing the genuine emotion between the brothers’ reunion, Zhao maintained his smile. He began to believe Denson was not an irredeemable warmonger. But there was something more pressing than brotherly recollections: “Sorry to interrupt, but I think we should discuss future cooperation.”

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Just realized this was recommended again today. Two updates tomorrow, no breaking promises!