A military vehicle rolled through the dimly lit streets.
Cigar between his fingers, Liu Ren gazed out at the road beyond the glass. His eyes turned cold as he asked, "Are the arrangements in place?"
"Everything is ready. But aren't you going too far with the sacrifice?"
Forrest gave him a bewildered, grave look. He had never expected that Liu Ren, purely to pursue complete and merciless revenge, would choose to use himself as bait.
"Forrest, you don't understand the first thing about conspiracies. Real plots are measured by stopping at nothing to achieve your objective!"
As Liu Ren spoke, a savage glint entered his eyes.
Tokyo was far too quiet right now. It was so quiet that he couldn't even find an excuse to pick a fight. He had to set up a target.
And right now, nothing was more fatal than him being ambushed and "critically wounded."
From the street corner stepped a squad of soldiers in greatcoats. Their faces were deadpan, yet their eyes were tightly strung with tension. If a single bullet went off target, Liu Ren would truly lose his life.
Yet remembering their boss's stern instructions when handing down the order, the men gripped their weapons tight. "Begin the operation!"
*Boom!*
A violent blast tore through the dark. As the soldiers charged out and pulled their triggers, the armored military vehicle was instantly riddled with bullet holes.
When the nearby barracks heard the gunfire, the camp immediately went on high alert.
*Tweet, tweet, tweet!*
Shrill whistles sounded as ranks of soldiers rushed out of their quarters in droves. But by the time "support" arrived, the attackers had long since withdrawn, leaving Liu Ren drenched in blood and slumped in Forrest's arms.
Deep in the American embassy, MacArthur was awakened by hurried footsteps. But as he sat up in bewilderment, his aide delivered catastrophic news: Liu Ren, commander of the Special Operations Brigade attached to the 1st Marine Division, had been assassinated. He was critically injured, his life hanging in the balance.
"Fuck! Who did it? Have they found out?"
All trace of sleep evaporated in an instant, MacArthur's face twisting with fury.
Liu Ren didn't merely represent the Navy. Behind him stood the Silver Rock Group, spanning defense and banking, as well as the New York Syndicate.
"We haven't determined who is responsible yet, but the Special Operations Brigade has already begun locking down Tokyo to hunt down the killers!" the aide reported nervously, acutely aware of the gravity of the situation.
"Telegraph Alexander. Tell him to do everything he can to calm the Special Operations Brigade down. I will personally see to it that they get an explanation!"
Staring at his aide, MacArthur could only pray that things would not spiral out of control. Although the brigade was formally designated under the Navy, it was practically Silver Rock Arms' private army, equipped with firepower on par with a regular division. If they went mad, MacArthur wouldn't even be able to find anyone willing to suppress them. No one was eager to offend their biggest benefactor, let alone the Silver Rock Group that held the reins over their military procurement.
Tokyo's Sugamo Prison, originally designated to hold war criminals, had already become a living inferno.
Amid swirling flames and billowing smoke, soldiers of the Special Operations Brigade were roaring at the top of their lungs: "Fire, fire, fire! Blast the prison walls to pieces! It must be these defeated bastards looking for payback! Kill them all—leave none alive!"
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Thunderous artillery fire reverberated as the prison walls instantly cracked and collapsed.
The patrol officers standing in the distance hid far off, paralyzed with fear, praying not to draw any attention. They had barely stepped forward to intervene earlier before the Special Operations Brigade turned them into human sieves. If even MacArthur found this unit a nightmare to handle, how could beat cops dare step up? It would be nothing short of suicide.
Charging into the prison, the soldiers wasted no words. Raising their submachine guns, they opened fire in sweeping bursts.
Raising his hands high, Hisao Tani wore a look of terror as he cried out, "Who... who are you people—"
Before he could finish, a bullet punched through his skull. A soldier stepped forward, swung his axe in a wide arc, and chopped down.
Yet as he walked out holding the prize, a veteran beside him gaped in sheer disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? Chopped up like that, how is the boss supposed to make a stone statue out of it? Huh? Tell me, how?"
Glancing down at the mess in his hands, the soldier blinked, looking sheepish.
While the prison was being raided, another site was undergoing a purge by heavy fire: the Yasukuni Shrine.
Once the berserk Special Operations Brigade deemed everything an enemy, their submachine guns became cold scythes. Whoever stood in their path received an entire magazine on sight.
Inside his office, gazing out at the flames engulfing Tokyo, MacArthur finally understood why Nimitz had deployed this unit to land first on Iwo Jima. They were an army of madmen.
Shivering in fear, the Emperor cowered inside the Imperial Palace, terrified that the brigade outside would break in. Yet before his terror could subside, a piercing screech tore through the air.
When thousands of rockets streaked across the firmament and rained down on the Imperial Palace, even MacArthur froze in shock. He had never imagined the Special Operations Brigade would actually possess the audacity to carry it out.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Under the relentless, overlapping detonations, the Imperial Palace was reduced to an inferno in seconds.
"Fuck! They have to be stopped! Go ask the doctors how Liu is doing! We can't let these maniacs go on any longer!"
The thought of the brigade's soldiers rampaging like wild beasts sent a shiver of dread down MacArthur's spine. They were slaughtering the Japanese like livestock.
Early the next morning, among the smoking ruins of the Imperial Palace, Mamoru Shigemitsu looked upon the dead Emperor and fell to his knees in despair. In the previous night's artillery barrage, His Majesty had departed straight for the netherworld of Yomotsu Hirasaka.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" Shigemitsu and the other loyal ministers wept bitter tears of grief.
Yet a moment later, when Shigemitsu tried to inquire after Yasuji Okamura, he learned that Okamura had been ambushed on the road the previous night while attempting to reach MacArthur's office, losing his life in the fray.
"Our top priority now is to prove that yesterday's ambush was not our doing, or the war will start all over again!" Shigemitsu insisted with utmost gravity.
No one understood better than this interim Prime Minister what kind of behemoth the Silver Rock Group was. With their president ambushed on Japanese soil, his fate still uncertain, Shigemitsu could vividly foresee the catastrophic retribution that lay ahead.
Inside a pristine hospital ward, Liu Ren, having successfully undergone "emergency surgery," was looking through a list of names.
Scanning the lines of crossed-out targets, a savage smirk touched his lips. "Now that's more like it. Even I paid a price—how could you not pay your share?"
Raising his pen, he struck through the top name on the sheet and turned his head. "Until the Pentagon issues an official directive, keep their rage stoked."
Hearing this, Howard stepped forward. "MacArthur won't be easy to negotiate with. He's already getting in touch with Naval Command."
Turning his head, Liu Ren let out a cold sneer. "You've seen the war hounds I raise. They bite everyone on sight, yet why don't they bite me? Because I'm the one feeding them."
A sharp pang shot through his wound as he shifted, and his tone darkened. "We shed blood for this country. We laid down our lives for it. This is what they owe me."
Chapter 77