Chapter 192
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
You can buy coins here to unlock advanced chapters: https://gravitytales.com/coins-purchase-page/
Chapter 192: Emergency Landing
"Fifteen kilometers ahead, there’s a high ground!" Meat Sauce, escorting Lin Mo, noticed his fighter jet slowing down, relying on the dwindling engine output and air currents to stabilize the aircraft.
"I see it! Thanks, Meat Sauce!" Lin Mo removed his oxygen mask, smiling. "Alright, let me try making an emergency landing in this environment. I’ve never done this before."
"I’ll assist you! Watch the ailerons; retract slowly. This place isn’t like a runway; the landing gear might hit stones." Meat Sauce’s fighter jet surged ahead of Lin Mo, scouting for a safe landing path.
Less than a hundred meters from the jagged mountain peaks, there was a flat area surrounded by steep cliffs, barely revealing a straight line extending out. Luckily, Lin Mo spotted a patch of green; it was grass.
The mountaintop should have weathered soil, and the presence of grass indicated there wouldn’t be too many loose rocks, suggesting it could accommodate an emergency landing.
"Control your speed; the landing distance is short, don’t overshoot." Meat Sauce provided wind guidance, knowing the natural landing site wasn’t ideal, but there was no better option nearby.
"Got it!" Lin Mo made a fist gesture at Meat Sauce.
He pulled up the nose of the aircraft, lowered the landing gear, and Lin Mo completely relied on the FC-1 Fighter Jet’s inertia to glide onto the grass near the mountaintop, firmly gripping the control stick while quickly slowing down through violent vibrations.
After all, this wasn’t a meticulously maintained concrete runway, and the landing gear tires occasionally hit rocks, causing severe jolts even if they were only the size of a fist.
In the initial seconds after landing, Lin Mo’s FC-1 even bounced a few times, as if it might tumble off the high ground at any moment.
Under Lin Mo’s control, the speed of the FC-1 Fighter Jet gradually decreased, but suddenly, a strong wind blew through—unfortunately, it was a tailwind.
Damn it, pilots dread "a smooth journey." How could you fly with a tailwind? Without lift, the plane would simply become a dead weight.
The FC-1’s deceleration spiraled out of control; instead of slowing down, it was pushed forward by the strong wind at the mountaintop.
"Slow down, slow down, there’s a cliff ahead!" Meat Sauce’s urgent shout echoed in the channel.
"I’ve turned off the engine and am braking! I can’t pull too hard, or the wind will flip the whole aircraft." Lin Mo’s palms nearly sweated; as a lightweight fighter that maximizes aerodynamic efficiency, it was more susceptible to the wind. He could almost feel the aircraft violently shaking against the powerful mountain breeze.
Especially atop the mountain, the wind speed was high, easily threatening to blow Lin Mo’s FC-1 straight off.
Lin Mo’s emergency landing pulled the attention of everyone at the Persian Cat command center; the channel fell silent, fearing that even a whisper might lead Lin Mo to fail at the critical moment.
"Hold on, hold on; you better hold on!" Lin Mo adjusted the ailerons to counteract the wind from behind, even firing the cannon to gain some backward thrust.
The nose of the aircraft suddenly dipped. Just as Meat Sauce and Lin Mo thought they were going over the cliff, they finally halted their forward motion at the last moment.
Lin Mo poked his head out of the cockpit to look outside and drew in a sharp breath.
Wow, the front landing gear had already slipped over the edge of the cliff, with the front half of the cockpit hanging precariously over the ledge.
The entire FC-1 Fighter Jet was perched unsteadily, sticking its rear up like a little lamb at the cliff’s edge.
"That was close!" Lin Mo patted his chest but dared not move forward, fearing he might shift the center of gravity.
Circling in the air, Meat Sauce exhaled deeply. "Wow, that’s really hanging by a thread." He suddenly shifted his gaze and blurted, "Dragon Knight, that Tejas is also making an emergency landing right next to you!"
Boom!
A sudden shake and jolt made even Lin Mo feel the FC-1, half-hanging on the cliff, slide forward a few centimeters. Unable to hold back, he exclaimed, "What the heck, it should have crashed and burnt that guy!"
He unbuckled his seatbelt and took off his Kua Fu tactical helmet, glancing back. The troublesome ace Tejas had also chosen the same spot to land, but unfortunately, it clearly mismanaged its descent, crashing into the steep edge of the grass land, snapping its wing with a loud, grating metal sound.
A great contrast: two pilots who had just been fighting fiercely now found themselves in the same precarious landing situation, a truly unexpected turn of events.
"Dragon Knight, I’m running low on fuel. Take care!" Meat Sauce noticed the fuel gauge. He’d dropped his external fuel tanks before the air battle, and his internal fuel burned quickly in combat; he needed to calculate how much fuel he had left for the return flight.
"Understood, go ahead! Leave this to me! Remember to have the Door Guardian bring maintenance technicians and tools—if it can be fixed, I can fly it back!" Lin Mo opened the cockpit cover, leaned out, and waved to the other FC-1 circling above.
"Not a problem!"
In the sky, Meat Sauce’s FC-1 Fighter Jet waggled its wings, as if saying goodbye.
Lin Mo clung to the cabin wall, agile like a monkey, and jumped down from the back of the aircraft, peering over the edge of the cliff.
It was at least two hundred meters high. If he fell, he might as well collect his pension.
Finding a place under the cockpit, Lin Mo unleashed his Battle Energy, generating power comparable to a diesel forklift, and physically pushed the nose of the aircraft, shoving the entire fighter jet inward, averting the danger of it tumbling off the cliff.
After pushing it a few more meters, he stacked some stones around the landing gear tires. Satisfied with his handiwork, Lin Mo nodded in approval.
The damage on the aircraft’s body had previously been smoking, but now the smoke had diminished, likely due to the automatic protection mechanism kicking in.
Suddenly, there was a commotion nearby.
Lin Mo turned to see a pilot standing rigidly a few meters away from the crashed Tejas, holding a handgun and staring blankly at him, seemingly stunned by Lin Mo’s feat of lifting the fighter jet by hand.
From the sky to the ground, it felt like fate.
That guy managed to escape after all; Lin Mo had thought the Tejas’s pilot would be trapped in the cabin and burn to death.
This was no flimsy craft; it was at least a nine-ton lightweight fighter jet effortlessly lifted.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, the Tejas behind the pilot caught fire, the sound of bullets exploding within echoing loudly.
The Indian pilot jolted awake and hurriedly ran to the side, distancing himself from the inferno consuming the fighter jet.
His decision proved wise as moments later, an explosion shattered the aircraft into pieces, the shockwave and flames engulfing an area of more than ten meters around.
However, the Indian pilot felt no relief from his survival.
Before him stood an even more terrifying figure: a human beast who could lift an entire fighter jet. Even if his physique ranked among the top three military standards, it shouldn’t be this exaggerated.
"When did Indians start wearing dog tags?" Lin Mo’s keen eyes spotted two metallic tags the size of fingers shining on the pilot’s neck.
"Don’t move!" The Indian pilot aimed his gun at Lin Mo, but his voice trembled uncontrollably. He realized a frightening truth: the person who descended from the sky to confront him wasn’t Pakistani but clearly of East Asian descent.
A Chinese person!? A chill ran from the back of his head all the way to his toes.
Both pilots realized something was off almost simultaneously; the two skilled combatants who had just fought in the air weren’t the real versions from their respective countries.
"You’re not Pakistani! You’re Chinese!" The pilot removed his aviation helmet, revealing his chestnut hair, blue eyes, and hooked nose, pointing his gun at Lin Mo and speaking in English, devoid of the typical curry accent, his identity revealing itself.
"Are you Indian?!" Lin Mo grinned dismissively; in his eyes, the man across from him was already dead.
Such military personnel from powerful nations hiding their identities and pretending to fight in another country’s battlefield served not only military assistance but also the need to test tactics. After all, why would there be so many military supplies given away for free?
Top-notch equipment for themselves, second-rate gear to bamboozle others; nothing in this world is free.
Nobody would expect, not even India and Pakistan, that not only Pakistan had foreign assistance, but even India had sent its own—Chinese and another major power’s pilots unexpectedly crossed paths in such a way at this moment.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The pilot, suspected of being a foreigner, didn’t hesitate and fired first, knowing that on the battlefield, nothing mattered but survival. After the battle, all blame would fall away, as many would want to avoid the spotlight.
Eliminating an elite warrior and weakening the aerial forces of the opponent, what could be more beneficial?
The burning Tejas was the perfect pyre.
Little did they know, both shared the same intent.
The 9mm bullets bounced off Lin Mo, feeling like mere tickles. Lin Mo didn’t even flinch.
Old Pan’s foresight—how could the pressure suit from Kua Fu care about this kind of handgun fire?
Huh?! How could this be? The shocked opponent realized that Lin Mo’s pressure suit completely ignored his bullets. The handgun fired without leaving a mark; it merely dented, absorbing the bullet’s energy and deflecting it away.
Only then did the pilot perceive that Lin Mo’s pilot-specific pressure suit seemed oddly different, resembling ground combat armor instead. It couldn’t be that fancy single-soldier tactical armor, could it?
A pilot wearing that seemed a bit excessive.
Thinking this, the pilot turned pale, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at Lin Mo.
