Solving the case: Combining the police dog's olfactory genes at the beginning

The two F-35s can no longer launch any missiles at you; there is no one in front of you that can stop you anymore.

Luo Fei turned off his phone screen, gripped the control stick tightly with both hands, and gently rubbed his thumb against the autopilot disengagement button at the top of the stick.

He took a deep breath. The air in the cockpit was dry and slightly cool, with the metallic smell unique to the aircraft's air conditioning system. When it entered his lungs, it felt like drinking a mouthful of ice water, making him extremely clear-headed.

He pushed the throttle forward, and the two Rolls-Royce BR725 engines of the Gulfstream G650ER roared deeply. The speed of the aircraft began to increase from Mach 0.75, 0.8, 0.85, 0.9—in the blue sky, the silver-white aircraft, like a shooting star with a lit tail, trailed a straight and resolute white contrail as it crashed straight into the smoking volcano.

Luo Fei looked away from the message on his phone screen that read "User [Red Hacker Chen Yifan] sent out 10 Carnivals," the smile on his lips still lingering, as his right hand gripped the control stick tightly.

He stretched out his left hand, pressed the voice input button on the communication channel, and spoke a voice message into the encrypted channel. His voice was not loud, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of his chest, carrying a scalding, about-to-burst power.

"Xiao Bei, well done."

After saying that, he put the communicator aside without waiting for Zhou Xiaobei's reply. He returned his hands to the control stick, his fingers clenched so tightly that his knuckles left clear marks on the leather-wrapped handle.

His gaze passed through the windshield and landed on the increasingly close outline of the mountains directly in front of him.

The snow-capped peak of Mount Fuji was still dazzlingly white under the sunlight, but the wisp of gray smoke at the edge of the crater below the snow-capped peak had become more obvious than it had been ten minutes ago, like the first wisp of steam rising from the surface of a pot of water about to boil, carrying a chilling omen.

Luo Fei pushed the accelerator lever all the way forward.

The two Rolls-Royce BR725 engines of the Gulfstream G650ER let out a deep roar, and the needle on the tachometer suddenly swung to the right.

The plane's speed continued to climb from Mach 0.9, 0.92, 0.94, 0.96—the fuselage began to tremble slightly under the impact of the high-speed airflow, and the numbers and pointers on the various instrument panels in the cockpit were jumping violently, but Luo Fei's hands were as steady as two iron clamps welded to the control stick, the course was not deviated at all, and the nose of the plane was always pointed at the red coordinate point on the navigation screen—the very center of the Fuji volcano crater.

The F-35 pilot on the left was frantically gesturing outside the window; his actions were no longer warnings or attempts to drive them away, but rather a desperate and futile struggle.

He frantically pounded on the missile launch panel in the cockpit with one hand, while making a "stop" gesture to Luo Fei with the other, his fingers opening and closing repeatedly, as if trying to grasp something he could never hold onto.

The red warning text on his HUD display never disappeared: "Weapon system self-test malfunction, missile launch procedure terminated."

He switched through all the weapon channels; missiles, machine guns, and even electronic jamming systems were locked down. Apart from its stealth coating and two engines, the aircraft had no other means to stop the Gulfstream.

"Baili Base is calling Command Center!"

The lead pilot's voice on the radio had completely changed, hoarse and filled with a desperate roar: "Target is accelerating! Repeat, target is accelerating! Speed ​​has exceeded Mach 0.95, heading straight for Mount Fuji! We cannot fire, all weapon systems are disabled! Requesting instructions! Requesting instructions!"

Inside the Ministry of Defense's underground command center, Shigeru Tanaka stood in front of the conference table, his hands bracing against the surface, his body leaning forward at an angle where he was almost about to fall.

His eyes were fixed on the red dot on the big screen that was moving toward Mount Fuji. His lips were pale, and a fine layer of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, glistening under the fluorescent lights.

What do you mean by "unable to fire"?

His voice was low, so low that only the staff officer standing next to him could hear it, but every word seemed to be ground out from between his teeth: "I'll say it again, shoot him down. Shoot him down at all costs."

"Sir," the staff officer's hand holding the microphone trembled, and his voice trembled as well, "Baili Base reports that all missile systems have been locked, the source of the lock is unknown, and we can't contact the Long Island Logistics Information Center either; the duty engineer's phone has been unanswered."

The two F-35s now only have their cannons operational, but the cannons have a range of only a few hundred meters, and the target is flying at high speed, making it impossible to catch up.

Tanaka Shigeru slowly turned his head, looking at the staff officer with a chilling look in his eyes. "You mean, an unidentified aircraft intruded into our airspace, heading straight for our most important volcano, and our F-35 fighter jets, which cost us tens of billions of dollars, can't even launch a single missile?"

The staff officer opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

"Get me Long Island!"

Tanaka Shigeru slammed his hand on the table, causing the teacup to jump and spill tea all over the surface. "Wake up everyone in the logistics information center! Now! Immediately!"

In the computer room of the Long Island Logistics Information Center, engineer Xiaolin was finally woken up by his cell phone ringing.

He groggily opened his eyes and saw that the incoming call number displayed on the screen was the red hotline of the Ministry of Defense Command Center. He was so startled that he almost fell off his chair.

He frantically grabbed his phone and pressed the answer button, but before he could utter a single word, a hoarse roar exploded from the receiver.

"Long Island Logistics Information Center! What's wrong with your ALIS server?! All the F-35 missile launch systems are locked! Find out immediately! Now!"

Xiao Lin was completely stunned. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the monitor screen. All the data on the screen was still normal: CPU load at 40%, memory usage at 55%, and network traffic without any abnormal fluctuations.

His fingers trembled as he typed a few commands on the keyboard, bringing up the operation log of the missile authorization module. He scrolled down line by line, and then his fingers suddenly stopped.

Incorrect verification code.

The checksum in the missile launch authorization agreement differed from the standard value he remembered by one byte.

“Report…report,” Kobayashi’s voice trembled, like window paper fluttering in the winter wind, “The missile authorization module’s verification code has been modified. The modification time…is about twenty minutes ago.”

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"Who modified it?!"

Xiaolin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing twice, and his voice became even softer: "The log records have been cleaned up, and the source of the modification cannot be found."

A dull thud came from the phone, like someone slamming their fist on a table. Then the call was cut off, leaving only a busy tone on the receiver.

Xiaolin sat in front of the monitoring station, phone in hand. His uniform was soaked with cold sweat, clinging stickily to his skin. He stared blankly at the line of abnormal data he had scrolled through on the screen, his mind a complete blank.

Meanwhile, on another floor of the Ministry of Defense, Takijiro Onishi, the head of the Kamikaze Bureau, had no longer cared about any etiquette or procedures.

As he stood up, his knee hit the corner of the table, causing him to gasp in pain. Without even rubbing it, he rushed to the communication terminal and reconnected to the royal gardens' dedicated line. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

Takijiro Onishi's voice had completely lost its usual calmness and restraint; every word seemed to be squeezed out with his last bit of strength. "The target has accelerated to near the speed of sound, heading straight for Mount Fuji. The estimated time of impact is within five to six minutes."

The Ministry of Defense's F-35 missile system was completely paralyzed by a cyberattack from an unknown source, and there are currently no means of air interception.

The magma pressure inside the Fuji volcano has reached a critical level. If triggered by an impact, the eruption is expected to exceed the magnitude of the Hoei 4 eruption, and the entire capital region will be covered in volcanic ash within hours. Your Majesty, please evacuate immediately! Immediately!

In the corridor of the sleeping quarters, Emperor T no longer cared about propriety. He walked barefoot on the wooden floor of the corridor, the hem of his bathrobe fluttering as he ran, revealing two legs that were so thin they were skin and bones.

His hair was still wet, and water droplets dripped from the ends onto his face and shoulders, mixing with cold sweat as they flowed down.

Behind him, two imperial guards stumbled along, one of them carrying a pair of slippers and shouting, "Your Majesty, please put on your shoes," but Emperor T paid no heed.

He ran through the corridor, through the Imperial Study, and through the Japanese-style room where he drank a cup of matcha every afternoon. The wooden floorboards under his feet thumped loudly, the sound echoing in the Imperial Palace late at night like a broken drum.

He ran to the top of the stairs, missed a step, and tumbled down the last three steps. His knee hit the stone steps, scraping the skin and drawing blood down his calf, but he didn't even turn his head. He got up and kept running.

His wife and son were still in the bedroom upstairs, and he made no attempt to call them to run away together.

Meanwhile, in the towns and villages surrounding Mount Fuji in Li County, ordinary people on the ground had already noticed the plane diving at high speed in the sky.

It was first a group of middle-aged men drinking in a roadside izakaya who heard the roar of an engine overhead—a sound completely different from that of a regular commercial airliner, sharper and more rapid, like a screaming bird of prey falling.

They put down their glasses, walked to the door, and looked up at the sky. They saw a silver-white plane plunging diagonally down from the southwest sky, leaving a long white contrail that shimmered with a pale golden light in the afterglow of the setting sun.

Why was that plane flying so low?

"Something's not right. Is this a landing? Li County doesn't have an airport this big."

"It flew towards the mountains! It flew towards Mount Fuji!"

The izakaya owner peeked out from behind the counter, holding a rag he was wiping, and squinted at the sky.

He saw the plane's course, saw it descending at a visible speed, and saw that it was heading straight for Mount Fuji, a mountain he had seen since childhood and knew all too well.

His hand loosened, and the rag fell to the ground, staining the floor with water.

"It's going to crash in."

The boss murmured something in Japanese, his voice so soft it was as if he was afraid of waking something.

Back in the Great Xia Dynasty, although Luo Fei's live stream had been shut down, over 90 million viewers still lingered on the black screen. They didn't leave because they knew the matter wasn't over yet.

The platform's technical department urgently opened a backup server in the background to alleviate the traffic pressure. The technical director wiped his sweat while staring at the monitoring panel. The number of online users not only did not decrease, but was slowly climbing.

“One hundred million,” a technician said, pointing to the number on the screen, his voice trembling with disbelief. “One hundred million people are watching a black screen.”

Just then, the live stream screen flickered. Then it lit up again.

Luo Fei restarted his live stream.

The footage still shows the cockpit's perspective, but unlike before, Mount Fuji is now right in front of us through the windshield.

The massive volcano occupied two-thirds of the entire scene, its snow-capped peak reflecting a blinding white light in the setting sun. The gray smoke rising from the edge of the crater was no longer just a few wisps, but billowing upwards in waves, like a startled beast opening its mouth.

Luo Fei's face appeared in the lower right corner of the camera. The wounds on his face were particularly clear under the side lighting, but his expression was calmer than anyone had ever seen before.

That kind of tranquility isn't something you can fake or deliberately maintain; it's the kind of peace that comes when you've done everything you need to do and have no more worries in your heart.

He said something to the camera, not loudly, but every word was clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am currently located directly above Mount Fuji, at an altitude of approximately 3,000 meters, at a speed of Mach 0.96, and heading towards the center of the crater. The estimated time of impact is approximately two minutes."

The live chat exploded instantly.

"Captain Luo!!!!!"

"He's really flying towards the crater, my God!"

"Why are you streaming again, Captain Luo? Say something!"

"Two minutes, two minutes? Does that mean you're going to crash into it?"

"No! Captain Luo, jump out of the plane!"

"Does the plane have parachutes? Captain Luo, are you wearing a parachute?"

"He wouldn't wear it; he never intended to jump in the first place."

"I'm not watching anymore, I really can't watch anymore, I can't take it anymore."

Luo Fei didn't look at the comments. He fixed his phone back on the stand and adjusted the angle so that the camera could clearly capture the entire view of Mount Fuji outside the cockpit.

He then reached out and pressed a few buttons on the panel on top of the cockpit, activating the autopilot's precise positioning mode. (End of Chapter)