Dual Transmigration: Starting from being captured and brought to the Hehuan Sect!

After passing through several rows of abandoned barracks and a long-dried-up fountain square, the airport's barbed wire fence came into view.

A faded warning sign hangs on the fence, its lettering blurred by wind and sand, barely legible, with the words "Military Restricted Area, Unauthorized Entry Strictly Prohibited" still clearly visible.

The gate was ajar, the lock had been smashed and was just hanging carelessly on the chain.

It's obvious that this place has already been visited.

Lin Mo pushed open the iron gate and slipped into the airport.

The runway markings were mostly covered by yellow sand, and the concrete surface of the apron was cracked into a dense spider web pattern, with a few clumps of withered weeds sprouting from the cracks.

The hangar, located at the end of the runway, is a huge semi-circular steel structure building. Its sheet metal exterior has faded to a pale gray-white due to years of exposure to high temperatures.

He walked to the main entrance of the hangar and tried the handle of the roller shutter door, but it wouldn't budge; the electric lifting device had long since lost power.

Without much effort, he leaped onto the hangar roof, found the maintenance opening, and climbed inside.

The dim lighting inside the hangar contrasted sharply with the outside.

Sunlight streamed in through several broken holes in the roof, casting golden beams of light onto the dusty ground. The air was filled with a musty smell of engine oil and rust.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the light and then he could see the scene before him clearly.

Three fighter jets were parked side by side in the center of the hangar, their fuselages long and sharp, and even covered in a thick layer of dust, they could not hide their dormant killing intent.

He walked over to the nearest fighter jet, reached out and wiped the dust off the side of the nose, revealing a line of faded serial numbers and a few worn letters.

The paint on the fuselage was relatively intact, but there were obvious signs of corrosion near the air intake and landing gear. The canopy had been pried open, and the instrument panel inside was covered in dust.

He walked around the plane and found that apart from the flat tires, everything else seemed to be intact.

With a thought, he stored the fighter jet into his spatial storage.

Then came the second one, and the third one.

There are also several ground support equipment vehicles in a corner deep inside the hangar.

A yellow tractor, several mobile power supply vehicles, a boarding ladder, and several toolboxes.

He walked over and examined each piece of equipment, putting them all into his storage space. He then rummaged through a cabinet in the corner and pulled out several spare flight suits and helmets, taking them with him.

After leaving the airport, Lin Mo walked towards the parking garage next to him.

It was a two-story concrete building, with the main entrance on the first floor wide open and no one guarding it.

Upon entering the garage, one finds over a dozen military trucks and jeeps, all in good condition, though their tires are flat.

Further inside, there were several large buses and armored personnel carriers, their camouflage paint almost blending into the walls in the dim light.

After inspecting each vehicle and confirming that they could be used after a little maintenance, I put them all back into the storage space.

Finally, they even took the few buckets of spare engine oil and several boxes of car parts piled up in the corner.

The armory has been emptied, the airport has been emptied, and now the only valuable thing left in the entire military region is the fuel depot.

Lin Mo unfolded the map and glanced at it. The fuel depot was located in the northwest corner of the military region, in a semi-underground concrete bunker.

He put away the map and, using the shadows of the buildings as cover, crept toward the northwest corner. He eventually crouched behind an abandoned barracks about two hundred meters from the bunker, peeking out with half his face to look ahead.

The large iron gate at the entrance to the bunker was wide open, and a military jeep, a tanker truck, and a military truck were parked at the entrance.

People were busy loading oil drums onto the truck, the drums hitting the truck bed with a dull thud.

Others carried thick oil pipes, aligning the pipe ends with the oil tanker's filling port, and the viscous fuel slowly poured into the tanker through the pipes. Lin Mo's gaze swept over the armed men carrying the oil drums one by one.

Most of them were probably ordinary people, doing physical labor in the scorching heat of fifty or sixty degrees Celsius. They were all covered in sweat, moving slowly, and their faces were full of fatigue. Some had to stop and hold their knees to catch their breath after carrying two buckets, while others simply took off their shirts and went shirtless, with beads of sweat streaming down their backs.

But the burly, bald man standing next to the tanker truck was completely different.

He was not only full of energy, but also without a drop of sweat on his face. He was holding a modified machete in his arms and watching his subordinates work with hawk-like eyes.

Lin Mo's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he made his judgment.

This guy is definitely a mutant, and a high-level one at that.

The previous A-level bald guy could already dodge his flying daggers, but the aura of this guy in front of him is no weaker.

Forcibly seizing the enemy might not work. If they fail to kill them instantly, Zhao Tai's main force can arrive within minutes once the gunfire starts.

After thinking for a moment, he decided to wait for the group to finish loading the oil before leaving.

Leaning against the wall, I listened to the occasional clanging of metal and the bald man's rough shouts from afar.

The bald man was yelling at his men to be careful, because if the fire started and exploded, they would all die here!

The men readily agreed and carried the load with extra care, even carefully removing several barrels of special fuel sealed with lead from the corner with a forklift.

The move lasted for nearly an hour.

After the tanker trucks were filled, the militants climbed onto the trucks in twos and threes. The convoy slowly turned around in front of the bunker and headed towards the main gate of the military district along the dirt road.

Lin Mo waited until the taillights of the last truck disappeared around the corner of the dirt road before emerging from behind the barracks and dashing towards the oil depot in a blur.

Upon entering the oil depot, a dozen large oil storage tanks were neatly arranged in the shadow of the semi-underground bunker, each connected to a complex network of pipes and valves. Large patches of dried oil were scattered across the ground, and the air still carried a strong smell of gasoline.

However, when he turned on the oil valve with high expectations, he found that the oil flowing out was intermittent, like an elderly person urinating.

I checked each oil pipe one by one, and it was the same for every single one.

Lin Mo then realized that this group of people had emptied the entire oil depot.

"This is fucking a problem."

Lin Mo frowned slightly.

Missiles and fighter jets do not require ordinary gasoline, but special high-density aviation fuel, which is not available on the market.

With it, liquid-fueled missiles can be launched smoothly, and fighter jets can take off.

Now that the oil depot has been emptied, this trip was a complete waste of time.

Lin Mo walked quickly to the entrance of the bunker and looked into the distance.

The three cars hadn't gone far; they stopped in front of a building in the distance.

Several armed men could be vaguely seen unloading barrels of special fuel from a truck and carrying them into the building.

That building was clearly Zhao Tai's supply warehouse.

Without saying a word, Lin Mo immediately headed towards the building.

He darted left and right, hiding in the shadows of buildings, avoiding several sentries both visible and hidden, until he reached the front of the building without anyone noticing his presence.