I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 128

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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128 – Bombing
128.
“What are you talking about? Is this even realistic?”
“My apologies.”
President Melchor, upon hearing the report, rebuked the Secretary General with considerable irritation.
The Secretary General could offer no excuse, merely bowing his head in silence.
“I don’t need apologies—I need an explanation that makes sense. One escort vessel and three patrol ships were dispatched. To protect four landing ships, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And now those ships are unreachable?”
“We have confirmed that combat occurred after they arrived in the waters off Zamboanga.”
“So if they engaged in combat off Zamboanga and then went silent, doesn’t that mean we lost?”
“That is not certain. It could be equipment failure or communication malfunction.”
“Have you tried calling them on their phones?”
“······.”
“They won’t answer?”
“That… is correct.”
Of course they wouldn’t.
Every Philippine Military personnel who participated in the operation had leaped into the sea,
and to survive, they had to strip off their clothes and clamber aboard rescue vessels.
There was no opportunity to bring phones along.
The phones lay submerged in the waters off Zamboanga.
Naturally, no one could be reached.
“Yet you still answered that we hadn’t been defeated?”
“I… I sincerely apologize. The situation has not yet been fully assessed, and I intended to provide a report only after gaining complete clarity…”
“Sigh—get out. You’re fired, effective immediately. Pack your things and leave. On your way out, tell the Defense Minister and Chief of Staff to come in.”
“Yes… understood.”
The Secretary General left, his head bowed deeply.
.
.
.
Moments later, the Defense Minister and Chief of Staff, who had been waiting, entered.
They offered their greetings, but Melchor remained seated on the sofa, not even looking at them.
“Never mind that. Report the current situation.”
“Mindanao is originally an area lacking in intelligence. Especially since the Damaya Rebel Group took control of Mindanao, information control has become even more severe…”
“Who asked about the situation in Mindanao? I’m asking what happened to the escort vessels we sent. Stop being evasive and speak plainly.”
“Well… we still…”
“You’re not about to tell me that you haven’t obtained any intelligence, are you?”
“My apologies.”
President Melchor, his anger rising, stood and seized a golf club wedged in the corner of his office.
He began smashing objects on his desk.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The monitor shattered, and the telephone flew across the room.
Though the Defense Minister and Chief of Staff weren’t being struck, they flinched with each swing of the golf club.
After wielding the golf club for some time, Melchor spoke between ragged breaths.
“Huff… huff… I don’t understand. How can a single escort frigate and three patrol ships be so incompetently defeated out on the open sea? Do the Rebel Forces even possess weapons capable of attacking naval vessels? Aren’t they the ones using AK47s? How could they possibly overcome a warship?”
“We are doing our utmost to assess the situation···.”
“That’s exactly it!!!! You’re supposed to assess that situation and issue orders—that’s why you’re sitting in that position! If you’re just going to sit there vacantly, receiving reports and reciting them back, what use are you?”
“We apologize, sir.”
The Chief of Staff, who was being scolded alongside the Defense Minister, cautiously spoke up.
“Mr. President, according to intelligence I’ve obtained, an engagement occurred in the waters off Zamboanga, and all vessels, including the escort frigate, have been rendered combat ineffective.”
“What? Really? Combat ineffective?”
The Chief of Staff had actually been reluctant to bring this up.
It wasn’t information the military had officially confirmed—he’d learned it through a conversation with an acquaintance.
The intelligence wasn’t precise, and it wasn’t appropriate for an official report, so he’d intended to remain silent.
But if he continued this way, his position as Chief of Staff seemed as though it would be swept away.
Just moments ago, he’d watched the Secretary General packing his belongings and leaving.
To preserve his position, he needed to be someone who at least grasped the situation.
But the Defense Minister glared at the Chief of Staff.
His expression clearly asked: why are you bringing this up now?
The Defense Minister himself was aware of the information, but hadn’t reported it because it was uncertain.
Yet in an instant, the Chief of Staff had become competent, while the Defense Minister had become incompetent.
Regardless of the tension between the two, Melchor’s expression grew grave upon hearing the answer.
The phrase “combat ineffective” dominated his thoughts.
It felt as though those words were declaring that the Philippines would spiral into chaos.
That was deeply inconvenient.
Melchor had two options available to him here.
One was to cancel the operation and revert to the previous state.
The other was to suppress the rebellion by launching an even larger attack.
His deliberation was brief.
In such circumstances, one must press forward with momentum.
“First, assess the situation and prepare the fighter jets for sortie.”
“Fi… fighter jets, sir?”
The Defense Minister, startled by the mention of fighter jets, questioned the President.
Melchor fixed a piercing gaze upon the Defense Minister.
“It seems to me you’re not suited for that position. Chief of Staff, from today onward, you are the Defense Minister.”
“Yes, sir. I will do my utmost. I’ll prepare the fighter jets immediately.”
*******
Laughter echoed from the warehouse in Zamboanga.
It was the sound of numerous people inside the warehouse laughing and talking boisterously.
With their military uniforms removed and training clothes on, it was difficult to distinguish whether they were soldiers or unemployed civilians.
They too seemed relieved, as if freed from whatever had been pressing down on them.
Liberated, if only temporarily, from rank, from orders, from duty.
Without phones, they watched television during the day or gathered in small groups to play basketball.
They played badminton and gathered for card games.
There was leisure here.
I decided to do something for them as well.
I didn’t know how long the Philippine Military would remain here, but I resolved to do my best for them.
I had airlifted a thousand sleeping bags and brought tables because I couldn’t bear to watch them eat sitting on the bare ground.
I laid waterproof tarps on the floor to prevent moisture and separated sleeping areas from activity areas.
The Philippine Military, who had been hesitant at first, now naturally participated whenever we brought something new.
They divided the work among themselves without being told.
They used to just stare blankly at whatever we did, but now they take the initiative themselves.
Especially when installing the toilets.
When the numbers suddenly increased and we brought temporary toilets, they installed them on their own.
When we brought meals, they distributed them and even cleaned up afterward.
It was a war that wasn’t quite a war, yet within it existed a small peace.
No one within it wanted to fight.
No one wanted to risk their life pulling a trigger.
We neither restrained nor imprisoned the Philippine Military.
The doors stood wide open, yet not a single person fled.
I don’t know why.
Whether it was because Zamboanga’s security was poor,
whether they felt anxious about leaving the military unit,
or whether they simply enjoyed life in the warehouse, I couldn’t say.
For whatever reason, every Rebel Forces member and Philippine Military soldier living in the warehouse was happy.
The tension had eased, and they felt at peace.
*****
That psychopath is glaring at me again.
Why does he keep staring at me like that?
I’m about to say something, but Shin Jung-gi speaks first.
But why is his tone so gentle and soft?
Like he’s talking to his girlfriend.
“Young Boss, did that thing you asked for last time arrive?”
“Huh? It’s probably in transit, isn’t it? Jason said he’d bring it?”
“Is that so?”
“Why? Is it urgent?”
“Yes. According to my calculations, there’s a high probability of bombing within the next three days.”
“Bombing? No way.”
“No way?”
Scratch the gentle and soft tone.
The moment war came up, he immediately accelerated.
“It’s a sufficiently plausible scenario. Melchor, whose operation using ships failed. Would he use ships again? Absolutely not. There aren’t any available ships either. The only method left to use is one employing a small elite force, but that’s bound to fail 100%. No matter how many special forces are deployed, it will fail. The Rebel Forces’ numbers are far too large to be handled by a small elite unit. For that to succeed, there’s only one method—bombing them first, then deploying special forces.”
It was a logical analysis befitting a psychopath.
Yet even after hearing Shin Jung-gi’s words, I couldn’t believe it.
Or rather, I didn’t want to believe it.
It’s true that Melchor is a man blinded by greed.
Still, I had no intention of criticizing him for sending troops to suppress the Rebel Forces.
It was a governing action befitting a president.
And it was about eliminating the Rebel Forces—entities that caused social harm.
No one could say anything against it.
I too had beaten down Rebel Forces in Congo.
Though now I’m feeding them instead.
I could understand sending troops by ship.
The ship itself wasn’t the issue.
The ship was merely a means to transport troops.
Once the troops disembarked, they would conduct operations to suppress the Rebel Forces.
Of course, civilians could be injured during the operation, but we would conduct it to minimize casualties as much as possible.
But fighter jets were different.
No matter how much we bombed Rebel Force territory, the likelihood of innocent civilians being harmed was extremely high.
We’d just be indiscriminately destroying a specific area.
The moment the firing button is pressed, no one can predict what damage will occur.
My approval ratings were already poor—would I really do something so reckless?
But Shin Jung-gi was saying it was sufficiently possible, while I was hoping it wouldn’t happen.
“And I hope there won’t be an attack. Still, we should prepare for it just in case.”
“Right. Got it. I’ll tell Jason to hurry.”
Fortunately, the cargo arrived safely at the Rebel Base that evening.
As the trailer door opened, Shin Jung-gi’s eyes gleamed with madness.
This bastard is terrifying.
******
Cebu
Mactan-Benito Ebuen Air Base.
Two fighter jets that had flown in from the Basa Air Base in Laguna gently touched down on the runway with its landing lights illuminated.
Their mission was to strike the Rebel Forces’ base.
It would be ideal to fly directly from Basa Air Base to Zamboanga in one go, but the fighter jets lacked sufficient fuel.
They needed to refuel once in between.
That’s why they had to stop at Mactan-Benito Ebuen Air Base for refueling.
While refueling, the Fighter Pilots each lit a cigarette behind the base.
The Fighter Pilots seemed quite dissatisfied with the operation.
Even while carrying out the operation, their faces were filled with worry.
“Still, isn’t bombing going too far? This isn’t even a war.”
“If it were a proper war, it might have been glorious, but bombing our own citizens? Even if they are rebels, it seems excessive.”
“Excessive doesn’t even begin to cover it. And it’s not warning shots—they’re ordering us to drop MK-82s, 500-pound bombs.”
“I can’t believe it either.”
“They’ve loaded six of them fully armed.”
“Same here.”
The MK-82 is one of the most widely used bombs in the world,
and when it detonates, it creates a devastating blast wave with shrapnel scattering across hundreds of meters.
It’s a terrifying weapon—capable of inflicting fatal wounds within fifty meters, and serious to moderate injuries up to two hundred meters away.
“Will it be alright?”
“Of course not. It’s a surprise attack, and it’s dawn.”
“How many people will die?”
“No way to predict. We have no intelligence whatsoever.”
The Fighter Pilot drew deeply on a cigarette, visibly burdened.
He didn’t want to do this.
“Should we drop them slightly off-target?”
“That’s a good idea. But then we can forget about promotions, right?”
“Promotions? We’d get dishonorably discharged.”
“Damn it… should we just do it that way? Getting discharged seems better than dropping bombs.”
“Fuck. Who the hell ordered this insane operation?”
“The order came down from the Chief of Staff, but since he issued it after meeting with the President, shouldn’t we consider it a presidential order?”
“Fucking madman.”
Cursing in the dark, empty air base changed nothing.
The fact remained that they had to sortie.
.
.
.
“They’ve taken off.”
Word came that fighter jets had departed from Cebu Mactan Airport.
Sandro’s expanded network proved useful at times like this.
The Mactan-Benito Ebuen Air Base shares facilities with Cebu International Airport.
Sandro had informants stationed at Cebu International Airport.
They reported that the fighters heading to Zamboanga had taken off.
We had prepared as well.
I hoped Shin Jung-gi’s prediction would be wrong, but I couldn’t simply hope and do nothing.
First, I evacuated the base.
I cleared the entire base so no one would be injured if the bombing occurred.
But I left the lights on for good visibility.
Made sure they could see clearly.
Even put on some music.
Something upbeat.
The distance from Cebu to Zamboanga was 360 kilometers.
At best, forty minutes.
At worst, fifty minutes would see them arrive.
We had completed our preparations as well.
.
.
.
“Pagasa, this is Bagwis. Ten minutes to target zone entry.”
“Bagwis, position confirmed. Maintain status.”
The aircraft bearing the codename Bagwis—a Tagalog word meaning “wing”—was flying toward Mindanao Island.
“Five minutes to target zone entry.”
“Three minutes to target zone entry.”
“Two minutes to target zone entry.”
Though it was dawn, the weather was clear, and the suspected enemy base gleamed brightly below.
“Pagasa, Pagasa. Requesting authorization for bomb release.”
The Fighter Pilot requested bomb release authorization from headquarters.
“Bagwis, bomb release authorized. I repeat. Bomb release is authorized.”
“Copy.”
The Fighter Pilot had received authorization for bomb release.
Just a little further, and pressing the launch button would end this operation.
But I had no confidence in pressing that button.
Yet I lacked the courage to fire elsewhere and face dishonorable discharge.
That was when it happened.
The radar suddenly flashed.
In the instant I wondered what this was,
an enormous curtain unfurled before my eyes.
It was like a massive wave surging forward.
There was no way something like that could be suspended in the sky.
Looking closer, they were drones.
Tens of thousands of drones had gathered to form a colossal barrier.
The drones were blocking the fighter’s path.
“Evasive maneuver!”
I desperately tried to change the aircraft’s direction, but the drones had already surrounded the fighter.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The sound of drones colliding with the fighter echoed through the cockpit.
And then
With a sharp crack and violent sputtering, the engine ignited.
A drone had likely penetrated the engine compartment.
Though small, once a drone enters the engine, there is nothing to be done.
Checking the other aircraft, it was suffering the same fate.
The aircraft caught fire.
There was nothing I could do in this situation.
The aircraft wouldn’t respond.
It was beyond control.
But I couldn’t go down with the plane.
There was no choice.
The Fighter Pilot gripped the emergency ejection lever of the fighter jet and pulled hard.
The canopy tore away, and the seat rocketed upward.
The operation had clearly failed.
Yet the Fighter Pilot was smiling.
.
.
.
A hillside opposite the Rebel Base.
We were preparing a drone show in a well-concealed position among the trees.
When Wei Zhonglin had offered to provide weapons last time, Shin Jung-gi had emphasized several times that we should receive them via drone instead.
He said it would be even better if they were already programmed like a drone show.
When I mentioned it to Wei Zhonglin, he readily sent them.
Two complete sets, no less.
Each set contained over ten thousand units.
The programming was flawlessly complete.
All we had to do was test them and charge the batteries.
We designated the location, clicked the desired pattern, and tens of thousands of programmed drones formed a massive formation.
The drones moved with precision along their predetermined trajectories, creating the pattern.
We waited after hearing that the fighter jet had departed from Cebu Mactan.
We waited for the enemy to approach.
We waited until the last moment, worried they might detect us on radar and evade.
The moment they entered effective range, all the drones launched simultaneously.
They soared upward, forming a massive wave, creating a barrier, constructing our own fortress.
The fighter jet, moving at high speed, couldn’t evade in time and was sucked into the drone swarm.
Only two Fighter Pilots managed to survive the drone swamp.
Witnessing this, Shin Jung-gi quietly spoke to his subordinates.
“What are you doing? Go retrieve them quickly.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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