Munitions Empire

"General," the soldier driving the car turned his head to look at Bolton, "are we really not taking anyone with us? The safety along the way..."

"Stop the chatter and just drive!" Bolton rubbed his sore eyes, growing impatient with his instructions, "If someone really attacks, no number of people will save us... what are we supposed to tell them? Is betraying one's country so easy to bear?"

"I'm from Northern Ridge." The driver muttered under his breath and then pressed down on the accelerator; the military vehicle began to shake slightly as it slowly moved toward the camp gate.

"From now on, we are all Tang People," Bolton wiped his cheeks, then he felt somewhat better. He was a dandelion, a wandering seed.

Now, he was returning to his homeland, to his motherland, leaving behind everything he knew. But what awaited him was an even more interesting future.

The car moved slowly within the military camp, the dim headlights illuminating the uneven ground ahead. Occasionally, one could see sandbags piled up with cold cannons behind them or tents dotted with flickering campfires.

Soldiers patrolling with weapons at the ready saluted the car as it passed by. The weak moonlight did not allow them to clearly see who was inside the vehicle, but they recognized the model of the car. Surely, anyone driving such a vehicle in the camp had to be a high-ranking officer.

Soon, they approached a checkpoint, surrounded by soldiers. Normally, an officer with the rank of a junior lieutenant would be on duty here, but now they were met by a colonel.

Ever since the adoption of modern military ranks by the Great Tang Group's security troops, Dorne's officer hierarchy had been structured in such a way that a colonel held a significant position of status.

In the area lit by the car's headlights, a soldier stretched out his arm to signal the car to stop, while two marksmen beside the sandbags at the side of the checkpoint had already turned their gun barrels to point their Maxim guns at Bolton's car.

At the same time, the other soldiers also raised their weapons, surrounding the car. It seemed that with just one command from the colonel in the lead, these men would pull the trigger and riddle Bolton's car with bullets.

Carrying a flashlight imported from the Great Tang Group, the colonel with a stern face walked to the car with his deputy at his side.

He shone the square flashlight, its dazzling light causing the officer in the driver's seat to squint involuntarily.

"Sorry, but I'm ordered to set up a checkpoint here... to capture the traitorous enemy spy, Bolton." The colonel explained to the driving officer, "Been standing here for the better part of the night and haven't seen a soul."

As he spoke, he moved the light away as if he hadn't seen Bolton sitting in the back. He walked up to the back door, rambling to himself, "Shame, though. Looks like the officers inside already took the credit."

With that, he waved to the soldiers behind him: "Let them through! It's just an empty car, no point in this."

Following his order, the soldiers all lowered their weapons, and moved away the barbed wire and the barriers. Only then did the driving officer notice that the Maxim guns behind the sandbags didn't even have their canvas ammo belts attached.

Bolton's car slowly moved forward, and as they passed the colonel, the officer actually saluted Bolton. He didn't say anything, and neither did Bolton.

...

Strauss was blindfolded, his hands bound together, and was escorted out of his own headquarters. The soldiers around him were armed to the teeth, and leading them was the Deputy Commander of the northern defense line.

The old man, with his hands behind his back and a frosty expression, walked in front, followed by his bewildered deputy.

Standing at the door, a group of officers had come to plead for Strauss, many of whom had also received orders tonight—to deal with Strauss, the traitorous officer.

"Deputy Commander, Sir! There must be some misunderstanding!" An officer blocked their path, pleading earnestly, "I stake my reputation that Commander Strauss could not possibly betray the Kingdom's intelligence."
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"Yes, Sir! You've worked with the commander for so long, don't you know his character?" Nearby, a colonel covered in medals, his hand wrapped in bandages, cried out desperately.

"Out of the way!" the white-haired Deputy Commander shouted coldly, "Don't you think about your own children and wives, your fathers and mothers?"

He gestured, and the guards behind him rushed forward, shoving the obstructing men aside. The procession moved on, while the military officers on both sides watched with an air of misery.

Again, someone blocked the path, protesting Strauss's innocence, but they were driven away by the Deputy Commander, some even receiving bloody wounds from the butts of rifles.

"General Strauss is innocent!" Among the soldiers gathering, someone shouted in dissent.

With this person's cry, many more soldiers began to make a racket: "Right! It must be the work of a traitor!"

"Those cowards who won't go to the front lines, making us die here, now they frame a good general like Strauss to steal his credit!" It didn't take long for more to add their own "reasonable" interpretations.

"Those cowards hiding behind, they should be skinned alive!" The disgruntled shouts of more and more soldiers erupted.