Chapter Thirty-Three: First-Level Combat Readiness!

"What a relief!" Only after carefully dismantling the fuse, timer, and detonator one by one from the explosive pack did Lei Dong finally let out a long breath.

The amount of explosives carried by Ayim Nawal exceeded ten kilograms, and the destructive power was considerable. Fortunately, the triggering device was rather crude, and Lei Dong managed to complete the disarming process without much difficulty.

He reckoned that the man peddling wares in Changchun Garden had probably never received any specialized training; creating such a powerful bomb was already the limit of his abilities.

Had it been a more sophisticated device, Lei Dong wasn't sure he could have defused it in just over half a minute, and who knows what might have happened then.

Although Lei Dong was confident that, even if the bomb exploded, his own physical resilience would prevent serious injury, and he could take measures to minimize the damage at the moment of detonation, the real issue lay elsewhere—right beneath his feet, less than two kilometers from Han Capital International Airport. From here, the massive terminal was already clearly visible.

This was the Chakna Republic, one of the most powerful nations on earth. This was the capital, the heart of this mighty state, guarded more heavily than anywhere else. This was the largest international airport in the world, the busiest hub for travelers and investors alike.

If a bombing were to occur here, even with minimal casualties, the political consequences would be unimaginable—far beyond anything Lei Dong or anyone else could bear.

What puzzled him most was the type of explosive: it was marked as Imperial Jepeng Type II, essentially a copy of the Minia Federation’s No.1 military-grade explosive. Thanks to the Jepeng people's innate ability to imitate—centuries ago, they copied ancient Chakna's laws and culture, and more recently, they've mimicked Western powers’ politics and technology—by slightly altering the chemical composition, they managed to make it even more powerful than the Minia original, surpassing even legendary explosives like **.

As the Republic’s primary adversary, Lei Dong could recognize both Jepeng and Minia military supplies at a glance. The problem was that this particular explosive was standard issue for the Imperial Jepeng military and never seen on the open market. How had these terrorist rats, scurrying across the globe, managed to acquire it? And how had they smuggled it into the Republic?

Bought on the black market? Misappropriated by careless Jepeng officers? Stolen from the military? Or worse, was the Jepeng military itself involved in this attack?

A thousand possibilities flashed through Lei Dong’s mind, but none offered a fully convincing explanation.

"Perhaps, only when this fellow wakes up will we have any answers..." Lei Dong glanced at Ayim Nawal, whose entire body was curled up like a shrimp, his waist bent at an unnatural angle, something impossible under normal circumstances. Lei Dong reached out, removed Nawal’s belt, bound his hands and feet together in a tight knot, making sure that even if he regained consciousness, he’d be completely immobile. Only then did Lei Dong activate his communicator and contact Wei Jianning.

"Reporting to the commander: the target is secured, the danger eliminated. Awaiting orders!"

"Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!" Wei Jianning exclaimed three times in excitement before continuing, "Hold your position! SWAT will be there immediately!"

Lei Dong ended the call and let out another long breath.

Even though he’d subdued Ayim Nawal quickly, for Lei Dong, the few minutes that had just passed were every bit as nerve-wracking as for the gathered crowd.

From the moment Ayim Nawal grew suspicious and suddenly lashed out, to the Minia-style chain collision, to Nawal drawing his pistol, and finally, Lei Dong’s desperate move—snapping the gear lever and driving it through Nawal’s right hand—each instant was fraught with peril. Any misstep could have resulted in catastrophic, unforeseeable consequences.

The scene was gradually settling down. The crowd, which had only moments ago been in utter chaos, seemed to return to their senses all at once. Casting cautious glances at the grotesquely twisted figure of Ayim Nawal lying on the ground, they tiptoed forward, curiosity overcoming their fear.

A few of the bolder ones began excitedly pointing and gesturing at the chaotic scene, their gossiping fervor burning brighter than ever.

"What a spectacle! What a spectacle!"

"Exactly! This was more thrilling than any blockbuster!"

"Who do you think that cool guy is? How can he be so formidable?"

"No kidding! He dropped that guy with a single punch! He was so fast, I couldn't even see him move!"

"If you ask me, he must be SWAT!"

"Bah! Have you ever seen SWAT that powerful? Maybe he's from some Dragon Squad..."

"Get lost! Dragon Squad? You watch too much TV, man!"

...

The Republic had enjoyed peace for over eighty years. Though small-scale and covert special operations were never entirely absent, such things felt remote from daily life, whispered about only in scattered, untraceable rumors.

In recent years, reports of terrorist attacks by the so-called East Uguqat Organization occasionally reached the public ear, but most people felt those events were worlds away.

Ordinary citizens were used to hearing about the likes of a spurned suitor holding a young woman hostage, or a female college student kidnapped by an unlicensed cab and subjected to violence or murder. These stories sparked brief bursts of conversation but faded quickly, replaced by the next sensational topic.

Compared to the public’s immense appetite for drama, such meager "offerings" barely sufficed—especially for the Han Capital’s residents, always eager for gossip and passionate about military and political affairs.

Life in the city was dull and monotonous. The daily grind was so uneventful that even a man who killed three or five people would be labeled a "mad butcher" and become the center of heated debate for a time.

But now—what had they just witnessed? A real-life spectacle, experienced up close, as thrilling as a super-production: violent clashes, a high-speed car chase, explosives, guns, an unbelievable sprint, a punch brimming with boundless strength, and that wickedly precise kick!

A grand spectacle indeed—a feast for gossip!

How could they not be utterly exhilarated, even if that excitement came only after nearly wetting themselves in terror?

Most importantly, other than the unlucky stranger who’d been knocked out with a single punch, no one else had been seriously hurt. As for the damaged vehicles? Compared to this once-in-decades spectacle, who cared? And besides, wasn’t that what insurance was for?

The police arrived swiftly. In less than two minutes, two riot vans marked "Han Capital SWAT" cut through the debris-strewn roadway and screeched to a halt at the scene.

With a sharp, piercing brake, the vans stopped, and a dozen heavily armed SWAT officers in black masks leapt out.

Each one, upon taking in the aftermath, drew a sharp breath in shock.

Though their training was tough and they’d practiced countless combat scenarios, the Han Capital—fortified as the most secure city in the Republic’s vast territory—rarely saw real action of this magnitude. When had they ever seen a hundred-car pileup, the ground littered with wheels and parts? Was this a catastrophic traffic accident?

Fortunately, the SWAT team was well-trained. Despite their astonishment, they did not panic. In moments, they formed a defensive perimeter and quickly set up a cordon, pushing the onlookers back dozens of meters.

The squad leader, a first-class inspector, surveyed the scene and then hurried toward Lei Dong.

"Hello, I’m from SWAT Battalion One, Han Capital—"

The officer saluted, but before he could finish, Lei Dong’s communicator sounded a rapid, urgent beeping. Lei Dong paused, waved off the officer, and listened as a familiar voice came through the earpiece—it was Lei Tiangang.

"Condition One alert! Return to base immediately for briefing!"

Condition One!

Lei Dong was taken aback. As a soldier, he knew that Condition One for a combat-ready unit meant the brink of war—battle was imminent.

What on earth had happened to warrant the entire Furious Dragon Battalion being placed on high alert?

Taking a sharp breath, Lei Dong had no time to ponder. He responded loudly, "Yes, sir!"

He strode forward, hefted the still-unconscious Ayim Nawal, and handed him to the SWAT officer. "He’s yours. I have urgent orders and must leave at once!"

The SWAT officer hesitated, "I can get you a car—"

"No need!" Lei Dong waved him off, ran to the red "911" parked behind the cordon, called out, "Gonna borrow your car!" grabbed the "signal light" from inside, jumped into the driver’s seat, and with a roar, the red sports car shot forward, accelerating past a hundred miles an hour as it raced down the North Fifth Ring Road, leaving only a blur for the stunned "signal light" owner and the SWAT officers.

For a split second, the inspector thought he saw Lei Dong straighten his back as the car turned onto the exit ramp a few hundred meters away, the vehicle jerking slightly before speeding off again with a tremendous roar.

He could not have known that, just as Lei Dong turned, an uproar erupted from nearby Han Capital International Airport—a cacophony of desperate cries, screams, and angry shouts, far louder than any morning market.

"What’s happened now?" Lei Dong instinctively tapped the brakes, but quickly dismissed the urge to investigate further. He floored the accelerator, racing away.

There was no time for anything else; his mind was filled only with Lei Tiangang’s grave, faintly anxious voice, with the four words that heralded the coming of war:

"Condition One alert!"