Chapter 154
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Chapter 154: You Take the Blame, I Take the Money
Although the gold giant dragon could help Lin Mo fully recreate complete F119-PW-100 thrust vectoring engines, providing as many as needed, it could not explain their source. This world required too many reasons for explanations, and Lin Mo did not want to get himself into trouble.
Lin Mo’s demands were hard to understand, but the intelligence officer still faithfully recorded his words. At this moment, every word Lin Mo spoke was invaluable military intelligence, and even a single comma was treated as a top national secret.
As for that secret base, the intelligence officer carefully noted its location. The unspoken cooperation between nations made it reasonable for the Americans, eager to act as international police, to establish secret military bases in Africa. If they didn’t, that would indeed be suspicious, but such a high-level specification was very rare.
The Democratic Republic of the Congo had long suffered from internal chaos, perhaps intentionally maintained for confidentiality; only such a situation would prevent anyone from noticing the enormous secret hidden within the Mibatong range.
China’s intelligence networks in Africa quickly operated with great caution, as a batch of extremely valuable spoils was quietly transported back to the country through channels unknown to Lin Mo. No one would know the immense hardships and dangers involved, but that was not Lin Mo’s concern; professionals would handle it.
This batch of hot potatoes, although unexpected, had to be managed at all costs. Once transported back home, the enormous gains would almost equal acquiring a complete F-22. This would mark yet another technological leap, and almost everyone in the know understood the stakes.
Meanwhile, Lin Mo saw Major Kauala, the son of the Zambian Air Force Commander, on the television in the cafeteria at Lusaka Air Force Base. This guy had dodged disaster by ejecting early during a tornado and was now being interviewed on TV, boasting about shooting down two Su-30 fighter jets that had crossed into the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Lin Mo was nearly indignant, as Kauala smoothly attributed all of Lin Mo’s accomplishments to himself, not even mentioning who the pilot of the other MiG-21 was.
The local TV station edited a special segment about Major Kauala’s shining achievements and identity, embellishing the story, which played repeatedly on screen.
The Zambian people were overjoyed by this news, celebrating with songs and dances. They shouted Kauala’s name, hung banners, and displayed his portrait everywhere, treating the Air Force Commander’s son as a national hero.
Not to mention, various forms of promotion flooded in from TV, newspapers, radio, SMS, and the internet—Africa’s new air combat ace was rising.
Well, Lin Mo had become an unsung hero, which left him both amused and exasperated. Did these people really need to steal his thunder? It was just two shoot-downs, and they nearly turned him into a superhero saving humanity, almost deifying him.
Thus began the grand campaign to create a legend.
"Hahaha! Captain Lin, did you see the news? That’s right, Major Kauala and his father’s faction need some golden stories to boost their popularity for the upcoming elections!"
"Exactly! Just consider it a TV show! You get used to it the more you watch."
"It’s hilarious! These guys are such good storytellers, hahahaha, it’s so funny!"
Major Huang De, one of the Chinese air force instructors, approached Lin Mo with his tray, unfazed by the nonsensical interview broadcasted on the restaurant’s TV.
"Yes! Let’s not get involved. If someone takes the blame, isn’t that good? You won’t lose out, just sit back and enjoy the profits. By the way, speaking of profits, I really have to congratulate you!" Major Huang De pulled out a delicate black velvet pouch from his pocket, weighing it thoughtfully, and handed it to Lin Mo with a reluctant expression. "Here, you really make people jealous! Much respect!"
"What’s inside?!" Lin Mo felt a bit bewildered, as these people’s words were hard to decode.
When he took the palm-sized exquisite pouch, Lin Mo squeezed it, feeling irregular-shaped stones inside. He opened the pouch and poured its contents onto the table, hearing a series of sharp clinks. A handful of varied-sized crystal gems tumbled out, glistening on the rough wooden table.
“Diamonds?!” Lin Mo exclaimed as he picked one up, recognizing it instantly—it was the prize that Kauala had offered during their earlier challenge.
Looking over the rest of the items, it seemed that Major Kauala’s gem bag and its contents were all here, many of which were clear, high-quality diamond rough stones. Although uncut, the large quantities gathered together were indeed very striking.
"This is from Major General Mora, who asked us to pass it to you. You have struck gold; this is Kauala’s price for your accomplishments. Of course, that achievement means nothing for you. You won’t receive a Military Medal for it, and it only brings trouble. Let Kauala take the heat, and you get the money. Isn’t that great?" Major Huang De winked at Lin Mo, while the others exchanged knowing smiles, amused with the whole scenario as it didn’t concern the Chinese.
So that was it! Reflecting on the huge mess he had stirred in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Lin Mo glanced at Major Kauala on TV, laughing and confident, utterly unaware of the heavy burden he had to bear. “Little Black comrade, good luck to you.”
Lin Mo swiftly gathered the pile of diamond roughs and stuffed them back into the pouch, planning to take them home after they were polished. These would easily fetch tens of millions of RMB, not to mention that they traveled through military transport routes, completely bypassing customs.
"I’ll treat everyone tonight! Pick any restaurant!" Lin Mo declared generously, prompting a cheer from everyone—a necessary gesture.
The once-nearly-empty pouch quickly filled up again for Lin Mo, resembling a balloon blown up with air—a profitable trip after all.
He wished he could have many more such trips to gather tens of millions of RMB; estimating the cost for his self-designed fighter jet would be around four to five hundred million RMB, even with Gold Coin’s assistance, which would save a lot of manufacturing difficulties.
Lin Mo clearly had no idea that DIY-ing a fighter jet in the eyes of humanity in this world, especially for ordinary people, was nearly an impossible task. Many only earn a few million in their lifetime.
Indeed, with a dragon in hand, he could command thousands of machines.
Lin Mo chuckled to himself as he watched TV.
Seeing Kauala’s arrogant face, Lin Mo found a rare moment of affection for him. It wasn’t easy, after all.
For the sake of RMB!
The routine flight training continued as usual. It seemed that all the pilots at the base had a special respect for Lin Mo, which somehow influenced others to adopt this attitude of respect. Even though everyone had been ordered to be tight-lipped, the truth of the day was known to only a few. But everyone understood that China had truly sent elite personnel this time. Not studying hard enough would be a shame to the people and the party, wasting the opportunity to don an air force uniform.
Initially, only the selected seed pilots learned from Lin Mo and the three Chinese instructors. However, ever since Lin Mo returned, nearly all the Zambian pilots at the base proactively gravitated toward the four Chinese instructors. The moment a lesson began, flight missions were canceled, forming a circle around the instructors with notebooks in hand, studying with utmost seriousness.
Only real strength could earn others’ respect, and Lin Mo’s outstanding aerial combat skills had conquered every Zambian air force pilot. Even the skeptics and those who dismissed him could not remain indifferent to the miraculous feat of unarmed combat against enemy aircraft.
On the other hand, Major Kauala enjoyed his newfound fame and frequently appeared in public for interviews, filled with spirited enthusiasm. He proudly recounted Lin Mo’s achievements as his own grand successes, shamelessly taking credit as the next generation’s heir in the Zambian Air Force, the leading figure among the world’s elite air combat aces.
In contrast, the Zambian side was busy promoting their hero, while the Democratic Republic of the Congo government remained exceptionally low-key. They offered no comments on the public’s doubts, as there was nothing to deny; two Su-30s had legitimately crashed within Zambian territory. The fact that Kauala, the son of the Air Force Commander, had such impressive achievements with his MiG-21 triumphing over the Su-30 could not aid the Democratic Republic of the Congo in its defense. They, too, had lost two MiG-21s, leaving no room for denial. They could only endure the humiliation, quietly biding their time to find a way to regain face.
In newspapers across Africa and the world, headlines read: “Russian Aircraft Duel: MiG-21 Defeats Su-30!” “Zambia and Congo Clash: Old Aircraft Triumphs Over New!” “Is the Su-30’s combat performance as good as claimed?” Such titles were not uncommon.
However, those with sharper insights or unique intel detected unusual undertones from the buzz of these African nations. Despite being an incidental friction between two small countries, the shadows of international powers—America, Russia, and China—loomed large.
…
“Lin, it seemed like there was a flash on the radar just now!” Grafido, in the front seat, looked curiously at the radar display. A strange signal had appeared for a moment, only to vanish, resembling radar noise.
However, with the naked eye and ground radar, no abnormalities were detected.
In the K-8, following closely beside Grafido’s single-seat FC-20, Lin Mo merely grunted in acknowledgment, his expression growing serious as he subtly activated the Light Mirror Technique to scan the high-altitude surroundings.
