Under One Person: I, the Zombie King of the Ming Dynasty, was dug up

Chapter 140: A clown dares to challenge the United States?
The sky was covered with a thick layer of dark grey clouds.

This gray is not a simple color, but is composed of countless fine water droplets and dust particles interwoven together. They shuttle through the low-hanging clouds, absorbing all the light, making the entire sky look depressing and dull.

In this gloomy sky, a formation of bombers was flying through the thick clouds. Their fuselages were painted with camouflage patterns designed for concealment, but they still stood out against the dim background.

These steel behemoths are like ghosts in the sky, quietly shuttling through the clouds, and only bare their fangs when they start their engines and prepare to attack.

As the engine of the first bomber roared, the entire sky seemed to be shaken by this force.

The sound was not a single roar, but a symphony composed of multiple parts, including low roars and sharp whistles, which intertwined together to form a deafening sound that cannot be described in words.

The sound penetrated the clouds and spread to every corner, making people feel a fear and shock from the bottom of their hearts.

The wings of the bombers cut through the air, creating whirlwinds that created brief gaps in the clouds, through which one could vaguely see the scene below—a war-torn land, devastated.

However, the target of these bombers was not this land, but the enemy hidden further away.

Following the commander's order, the bomber group began to adjust its posture and prepare to enter the attack route.

Their fuselages are tilted slightly to allow for better aiming at targets.

At this moment, bombs fell off their abdomens, whistling with death, cutting through the sky and heading straight for the target.

The scene on the ground became increasingly tragic and shocking.

The bomb fell rapidly from the sky like a meteorite, dragging a long tail of flame, and smashed into the earth like an angry hammer of God.

They drew terrible tracks in the sky, as if foreshadowing the coming destruction.

"Boom—boom—boom—"

A series of deafening explosions followed one after another, and the ground shook violently like an earthquake.

Each explosion was accompanied by flames and thick smoke that shot up into the sky, forming huge fireballs that rolled and expanded in the air before gradually dissipating.

At the center of the explosion, the land was blown into pieces, and soil and rocks were thrown into the air by the powerful shock wave, like a violent storm.

Fragments flew everywhere, some hit the surrounding trees, cutting them in half; some embedded in the walls of buildings, leaving behind horrifying marks.

The flames spread from the explosion point, and the raging fire devoured all combustible materials.

Wood, cloth, paper... everything turned to ashes in an instant.

The heat waves were rolling, burning people's skin, and the air was filled with pungent smells of gunpowder and burning.

Thick smoke blocked out the sky and covered the entire battlefield. The smoke was mixed with dust and debris, forming a chaotic world.

The blood slaves suffered heavy losses.

The advantages of a modern military are too great.

Commander John Smith had a lighthearted conversation with his men over the radio.

"Guys, let's go have a drink after the bombing!" John Smith's voice laughed over the radio.

His tone revealed an excitement and satisfaction that was hard to conceal, as if he had just completed a wonderful performance.

"Haha, sounds good, Commander!" responded co-pilot Tom Johnson.

"Yeah, this mission is so easy, it's like a walk in the park," pilot James Brown joked.

"But don't forget that we still have to fly back, so don't get too drunk," reminded navigator Emily Davis.

"Don't worry, Emily, we will control ourselves," John Smith responded.

The next second, James Brown's attention was attracted by a sudden flashing red dot on the radar screen.

His heart skipped a beat and his fingers rapidly tapped the console, zooming in on the image.

It was a UFO, approaching their formation at an alarming speed.

"Attention all teams, an unidentified target is approaching!" James' voice was full of urgency and confusion, and he issued a warning to the entire formation via the radio.

His eyes were fixed on the radar screen, trying to find clues from the ever-changing numbers.

The voice of co-pilot Tom Johnson was the first to break the silence: "How is this possible? This airspace should be ours."

There was disbelief in his voice, as if he couldn't accept this fact.

"It's unrealistic. We just completed the mission and should be safe."

Navigator Emily Davis' words revealed a sense of uneasiness and confusion, and her hands were tightly gripping the joystick, ready to deal with any situation that might arise.

"What is it?" Pilot James Brown asked again, with a tremor in his voice.

"It's unclear, but it's moving very fast. We must be careful." As the commander, John Smith tried to remain calm and commanded his team members to prepare for battle, although he had doubts in his heart.

A tense atmosphere quickly spread throughout the formation.

Everyone stared at their instruments, their ears filled with the sound of various alarms and communications on the radio.

The speed of the flying target was beyond everyone's imagination. It was like a meteor streaking across the sky and was right in front of them in an instant.

It was a giant bird, its size was jaw-dropping, dozens of meters in size, like a moving mountain, blocking out the sky and the sun.

Its feathers sparkled with cold light, and each one was like a carefully forged sword, extremely sharp and emitting a cold aura.

These feathers stir up gusts of air when flying at high speed, making a sharp whistling sound, as if even the air is being cut by them.

The giant bird's eyes were as red as blood, full of madness and ferocity.

There was no rationality in its eyes, only primitive violence and killing desire. It stared at the bomber formation closely, as if it saw prey within reach.

As it approached, a strong sense of oppression came over me.

The members of the formation could feel the terrifying pressure from the giant bird. Their heartbeats accelerated involuntarily and cold sweat broke out on their palms.

"Everyone, pay attention and prepare for battle!" Commander John Smith's voice rang out on the radio. Although he tried to remain calm, his tone could not hide his nervousness.

He knew that facing such a huge monster, ordinary means of attack might not be effective at all.

How could it be such a monster?

The giant bird's wings suddenly flapped, the movement was swift and powerful, like a huge sword cutting through the sky.

Its feathers sparkled coldly under the sunlight, and each one was as sharp as a carefully forged blade.

The bomber seemed so fragile in the face of this powerful force. The wings of the giant bird were like a flash of lightning, instantly hitting the fuselage of the bomber. With a loud "bang", the fuselage of the bomber was directly cut in half, and the sound of the fracture was harsh and shocking.

The shock wave of the explosion spread in all directions, flames shot up into the sky, and thick smoke billowed.

Fragments of the bomber flew everywhere. Some hit the surrounding trees, making a "pop" sound; others fell into the nearby river, splashing water.

At this moment, pilot James Brown only felt a huge force throwing him out of his seat. His body rolled in the air and his eyes were blurred.

His ears were filled with the sounds of explosions and debris crashing, and his heart was filled with fear and despair.

Co-pilot Tom Johnson and navigator Emily Davis suffered the same shock.

Their bodies were thrown in different directions of the cabin and hit hard objects, causing unbearable pain.

Their hearts were filled with shock and disbelief; the power of this giant bird was beyond their imagination.

In this encounter with the giant bird, both the United States and Tang Feng suffered losses, but it was obvious that the United States suffered more serious losses.

Every pilot is an elite who has undergone rigorous selection and long-term training. Their training cost is extremely high. Not only does it require a lot of time and resources, but it also requires them to have excellent flying skills, tactical awareness and teamwork ability.

Therefore, the sacrifice of every pilot means immeasurable loss.

When the bomber was cut in half by the giant bird's wings, the pilots of the United States faced a life-and-death test.

Some pilots lost consciousness in the shockwave of the explosion, while others struggled to stay conscious and tried to maneuver their damaged planes for emergency landings or to find opportunities to escape.

However, faced with such huge losses and sudden changes, even the most experienced pilots felt at a loss.

This kind of thing only appears on TV. Who has ever seen it in real life?

Isn't it Ultraman who fights monsters?

The battlefield here is out of control, and the other side is also in a bad situation.

The southern part of the United States.

The pitch-black night covered the southern border area like a huge black cloth.

The air is so humid that it seems like you can squeeze water out of it. This humidity makes people feel a little uncomfortable. The sticky feeling clings to the skin, and there is a hint of dullness in every breath.

On the border, several headlights patrol back and forth like loyal guards.

Their light draws bright arcs in the darkness. Although it is dazzling, it also brings a sense of security to people.

These lights seem to be issuing a silent warning, reminding everyone that this is the border, an area that cannot be violated.

There was silence all around, with only the occasional chirping of insects and the sound of wind breaking the tranquility.

This silence makes people feel a little depressing, as if the whole world has stopped at this moment.

The border sentries watched their surroundings nervously, their ears perked up, trying to catch any unusual sound.

On a night like this, time seems to slow down and every second seems to be particularly long.

Suddenly, a sharp sound of a silenced gun broke the tranquility of the night sky. Although the sound was suppressed, it was particularly harsh in the silent night.

Before the sentries could react, they were shot and fell to the ground one after another. Their bodies drew weak arcs in the darkness and finally fell heavily on the cold ground.

This sudden attack threw the entire military camp into chaos.

The unidentified troops seemed to emerge from the ground and quickly approached the military camp. Their movements were agile and orderly, and they had obviously been carefully trained and planned.

As the unknown troops approached, gunshots began to rang out, with bullets streaking deadly paths through the air, hitting facilities and personnel in the barracks.

With flickering flames and continuous explosions, the entire military camp seemed to have turned into a hell on earth.

Although the sentinels were well-trained, they were caught off guard by such a sudden attack.

Some people tried to organize a counterattack, but were quickly suppressed by the firepower of the unknown army.

They could only watch their comrades fall one by one, their hearts filled with helplessness and anger.

The unknown army's charge was fierce, and they seemed to have endless physical strength and courage.

Their shouts, gunshots and footsteps intertwined to form a symphony of death.

Under the cover of darkness, Childe Borg's figure quietly emerged, and his face gradually appeared from the shadows with a heart-pounding sense of weirdness.

The third eye on his forehead was as red as blood, as if burning with fire, exuding an evil and powerful aura.

The eye was fixed on the battlefield, with a fanatical light flashing in it.

The corners of Childe Borg's mouth rose slightly, revealing a hideous smile that was full of cruelty and madness.

He murmured, "My king, I fight for you."

The voice was low and hoarse, as if it came from the depths of hell, making people shudder.

In the spacious and slightly dim office, Trump is sitting leisurely behind his desk, holding a can of iced cola in his hand, enjoying this rare moment of tranquility.

Suddenly, a burst of rapid footsteps broke the tranquility.

The chief of staff pushed the door open hurriedly, his forehead covered with beads of sweat, his face pale, and his eyes flashing with uneasiness and anxiety.

He held a sealed document tightly in his hand, as if he was afraid it would fly away.

"Sir, this is bad!" The chief of staff's voice was trembling, with obvious panic. He rushed to Trump and almost forced the document into his hand.

Trump was so startled by this sudden action that he almost spilled the Coke in his hand.

He put down the Coke and took the document with a puzzled look, a hint of displeasure flashing in his eyes. "What's going on? You're so flustered."

The chief of staff took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but his voice was still unstable: "Mosidi...he started a war in the south!"

"Mosidi?" Trump repeated the name, frowning, and then laughed out loud, his laughter full of disdain and contempt, "That clown? He dares to start a war?"

The chief of staff became even more anxious when he saw this. He stepped forward and almost pleaded, "Sir, it's true! The intelligence has been confirmed, it can't be wrong."

Trump's smile froze on his face, and his eyes gradually became sharper.

He slowly opened the document in his hand and quickly scanned the contents.

"This... How is it possible..." Chuan Langpu muttered in a low voice, his tone full of disbelief and anger. He slammed the file shut and stood up, the chair making a slight sound due to the sudden loss of weight.

(End of this chapter)