If I made you a special forces soldier, would you become a terrestrial god?

Thousands of miles away, on the other side of the ocean.

In the Pentagon, USA, in a top-secret meeting room that would never be marked on a regular map.

The air here is free of any gunpowder smoke; only the rich aroma of a carefully lit top-quality Cuban cigar mingles with the crisp sound of ice cubes clinking in a crystal glass.

The atmosphere here was completely different from the ruins on the front lines, stained with blood and flesh; it was more like a private club for the victors.

On the huge holographic screen, the battle situation from Outpost No. 81 is being broadcast live.

The perspective is unique, coming from the "tyrant's" eyes. Every shake and forward lunge carries an inhuman sense of violence, a violence born purely for destruction. Occasionally, the scene flashes with streaks of snow due to the violent impacts, which adds an eerie realism.

Everyone present is a powerful figure who can influence the military and political direction of this country.

A general with four stars on his shoulders and gray hair slowly exhaled a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. In the swirling smoke, the wrinkles on his face seemed to smooth out.

On the screen, a soldier from the Dragon Kingdom was lifted into the air by the "tyrant's" giant claws and then easily torn in two like a rag, with warm internal organs and blood smearing the screen.

The general showed no discomfort whatsoever; on the contrary, he let out a sigh of praise that sounded like he was appreciating a top-quality red wine.

"Beautiful work of art, Dr. Kane."

He turned his head and raised his glass to a separate screen beside him. On the other end of the screen was Dr. Archibald Kane's face, flushed with extreme excitement.

"The combat data of 'Tyrant' is more perfect than any simulation exercise. They are not just weapons, they are war itself."

In the video, Dr. Kane's eyes are as fanatical as those of a cult leader preaching.

"General, this is just the beginning! The first-generation 'Tyrant's' intelligence module and attack logic are still very rudimentary. Please give me a little more time, and with sufficient resources, I assure you, I can create a true, walking deity for you, for our great M nation!"

"We have created it, Doctor."

A refined-looking man in a bespoke suit was slowly and deliberately processing a cigar with a pair of sterling silver scissors. He was a senior advisor to the Ministry of Defense, but his eyes were colder than the rattlesnakes outside the conference room.

"However, the gods we created were for slaying dragons."

His words, like a perfectly timed joke, elicited a low, arrogant chorus of agreement in the meeting room.

The emergence of Kunlun was like a heavy mountain pressing down on the entire Western world. The sleeping dragon of the East had not only awakened, but also revealed its claws, enough to rewrite the global power landscape.

The unprecedented pressure kept these big shots, who were used to looking down on everyone, awake at night.

And now, the success of the "God's Forbidden Zone" project is a shot in the arm.

Looking at the screen, those elite troops of the Dragon Kingdom, once touted as the "strongest army on earth," were as fragile as porcelain in a shop window in front of the "tyrant," being shattered, crushed, and slaughtered at will.

A morbid pleasure of controlling the life and death of others quietly spreads in everyone's heart.

"The Dragon Kingdom's reaction was faster than we anticipated." The head of the intelligence department pointed with a laser pointer at the Wolf Warrior Squadron, which had just been surrounded, on the screen. "This is their newly formed ace unit, codenamed 'Wolf Warrior,' and its members are all elites selected from the top 100 in the seven military regions. Unfortunately," he paused, a mocking smile spreading across his face, "in the face of absolute power, the only difference between elites and recruits is that the former can struggle a little longer."

On the screen, the Wolf Warrior Squadron, with its tactical skills and superior equipment far exceeding those of conventional troops, once caused the Tyrant considerable trouble.

But as the "Tyrant's" almost abnormal defense and self-healing abilities were revealed on screen, the so-called "trouble" became a complete joke.

A member of the Wolf Warriors had his arm ripped off, and the shrill scream transmitted through the Tyrant's hearing sensor was distorted and piercing.

But here, it becomes the most delicious snack to accompany drinks.

"The 'Blood Wolf' squad did a good job too." The senior advisor took a sip of whiskey, a smile of approval on his face. "Old Cat is a smart hyena. He knows when to let loose the reins and let the 'big guys' charge, and when to clean up the mess himself. First, destroy their fortress with force, then break their will with words... Tsk tsk, that's much more practical than our West Point textbooks."

"Rewind that scene a little," a chubby senator suddenly said, pointing at the screen. "It's the scene where the soldier's chest was crushed. I want Dr. Kane to see how concise and effective the 'Tyrant's' footwork is."

The video immediately reversed and played again.

The soldier's desperate face was instantly distorted under the massive foot, and the sound of his sternum shattering could be clearly heard.

"Beautiful." The senator nodded in satisfaction.

"The President is very satisfied with the initial results of this operation." The White House liaison officer, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion. "He asked me to convey to you that the follow-up budget for the 'God's Forbidden Zone' project can be increased by another thirty percent, with no upper limit."

Everyone's eyes lit up.

"The president has only one request," the liaison officer continued, "before the Dragon Kingdom makes up its mind to use their 'Kunlun,' we need everything we want. This includes live samples, and most importantly… to completely break their backbone!"

"Of course." The four-star general stubbed out his cigar and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window, the city that never sleeps shines with brilliant lights, the pinnacle of power on this planet.

"There's an old saying in China, 'Kill the chicken to scare the monkey.'" He looked at the reflection of the five rampaging demonic figures on the screen in the glass, his voice laced with a cold arrogance. "We're killing the chicken now. When their 'Kunlun' arrives, it'll be perfect. Let them see for themselves... just what kind of butcher's knife we've prepared for them!"

The voice just fell.

The scene on the screen reached its climax.

Old Cat gave the order for a general offensive.

The tallest and strongest "Tyrant Number One" roared and then transformed into a heavy, bluish-gray cannonball, crashing headlong into the last cover of Wang Zhan and the others!

That pure, all-consuming physical force sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the conference room, even through the screen.

"It's over." The senior advisor elegantly raised his glass, a confident smile on his face. "A perfect surgical strike. To our magnificent masterpiece, to the future century-long hegemony of the United States, gentlemen..."

Inside the meeting room, everyone stood up, their faces beaming with the same victorious smiles, and raised their glasses.

"Cheers!"

The crisp clinking of the crystal glasses, along with the final, desperate roars of the Wolf Warriors from the screen, formed a symphony that was both jarring and ironic.