Chapter 504

Chapter 504: Knowing Full Well There’s a Tiger in the Mountain

As the exhibition drew to a close, there weren’t many visitors left. Some exhibitors with slow business even started packing up early. During the large-scale evacuation in the next two weeks, leaving early might save them from long queues, and each additional day of stay would incur considerable costs.

"Who is that? He looks familiar."

"Isn’t that the leader from Lockheed Martin? Why does he look like a panda? Could it be that their orders have been so great these past few days that he hasn’t been able to sleep?"

"Yeah, right! I heard that since the day before yesterday, they haven’t received a single order. Seems bad luck has struck! I bet they won’t even get half of last year’s order volume. Stay away from them; it’s just bad luck."

"Can they even sell the F-22? They’re just propped up by the C-130 Hercules. If they could sell an F-22 or F-35, they’d make enough money to feed us for six months."

The clients who could place orders had already signed intention contracts, so this white man stood out, as the staff of National Defense Star had become familiar with several exhibitors over the past few days. They recognized the somewhat disheveled figure as Townsend Williams, a supervisor from Lockheed Martin.

"What’s going on? Any news?"

Lin Mo observed Townsend Williams leisurely. He kicked a plastic chair towards him and gestured with his chin, "Sit!"

But Townsend Williams wouldn’t dare sit down. He shivered and remained standing. The fact that he approached and didn’t ignore Lin Mo showed that Lin Mo’s threats held some weight in his eyes. If there were no reaction at all, Lin Mo wouldn’t mind teaching Lockheed an unforgettable lesson.

Sometimes, laws and morals do not fully restrain certain special groups, and Lin Mo was precisely one of them.

"Alright, you win."

Townsend Williams looked utterly exhausted. He could hardly eat or sleep these days and didn’t dare tell his subordinates that they, the exhibitors, could be in life-threatening situations at any moment.

Run away alone? Lockheed would certainly be the first to hunt him down. With Lockheed’s power, even if he managed to escape Earth, they could retrieve him and torture him privately.

He cursed himself for being so careless as to report that someone had guided a missile to shoot down Japan’s F-22 Raptor. Now it seemed he had stirred up a killing star, and his life was in jeopardy.

After that terrifying person openly threatened him, Townsend Williams immediately made an international call to report it, demanding to reach the president directly. Not only did he call, but he also sent emails to his superior manager and higher-ups.

What followed was days filled with anxiety, a long wait for an uncertain fate.

For Townsend Williams, "Time dragged on like years" was perhaps the most profound feeling he had ever experienced in his life.

Fortunately, just as he was about to lose hope, headquarters sent someone straight to Paris for their exhibition team, even as they walked toward their doom.

"Winning doesn’t matter; what I need is for Lockheed to give me an explanation. If I’m not satisfied, hum, your fate won’t be any different."

Lin Mo expressed his discontent with a cold grunt.

"This package was specially delivered to you by our headquarters."

Townsend Williams quickly handed over the item he was holding, looking anxiously at Lin Mo.

Once arrogant as a mid-level employee in an international corporation, enjoying the flattery of small people, he now found himself humbled, waiting for the day when fate would judge him.

"It won’t be a parcel bomb, or anthrax powder, or maybe nerve gas." Lin Mo let his gold giant dragon perform a split scan before he took it.

Wearing his Dragon General tactical armor, he created another inner layer of protection with a split gold coin.

The human ingenuity in this world was no less than that in the world Lin Mo came from, so he had to be cautious against various ever-emerging tactics.

"No, no, none of those! This package passed through aviation security checks."

Cold sweat instantly dripped from Townsend Williams. This was brought over on a public flight, having passed through the dual security systems of America and France.

If what Lin Mo spoke of truly existed, first of all, a bomb wouldn’t necessarily be able to completely eliminate the opponent. If it could, they wouldn’t need to deploy powered armor. Biological viral weapons wouldn’t have an immediate effect either, and being this close, he would likely be the first one to suffer collateral damage, leading to the entire exhibition team facing total annihilation.

As for nerve gas? If the American government didn’t want to go to war with France, they would be the first to stop Lockheed. Although Lockheed was powerful and occasionally stepped out of line, America was not solely under Lockheed’s control. There were also big players like Morgan, DuPont, Lockefield, Pansheng, and Solomon American.

The package opened without any danger, not even a trace of strange odors or unknown dust, confirming Townsend Williams’ suspicion. Inside were only some paper products—safe!

As for viruses, there was no way of knowing; Gold Coin was an outsider and lacked the capability to assess it. However, Lin Mo’s Battle Energy had a certain natural antibacterial and disinfectant effect, so the threat was minimal.

Inside was a letter addressed to Lin Mo, along with a check.

A blank cash check for ten million dollars.

But the content of the letter was not an apology to Lin Mo, but rather a challenge.

An international pilot death match!

An underground competition of wealth and death.

It was a game for power and wealth tycoons, frantically worshiping the fight between life and machinery, and even occasionally becoming a dark battlefield for countries to resolve their grievances.

At times, there were extremely high stakes, tying the fate of the spectators and participants together, ascending to heaven or plunging into hell, a thrilling experience.

The competition arena was a true battlefield, even more terrifying than illegal boxing matches, with warfare perfectly concealing its existence.

Losers had no right to survive; they, along with their aircraft, would be buried deep in the ground, forever refined in flames and explosions.

Black market boxing tested the fighters’ strength alone, while the international pilot death match would also incorporate human technology and intelligence.

The entry threshold for participants was not something ordinary people or even societal elites could reach. The backgrounds of the organizers and spectators were remarkably impressive. This exceptionally high-level event had never been exposed to public rumors, as all participants kept the secret unanimously.

Participants could rely on large corporations or fighter jet manufacturers to obtain competition tools. If they passed the screening and were recognized, they could receive aerial combat weapons and relevant training for free.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch in the world; what they usually received were experimental machines or prototypes that were not entirely reliable. Should they win a prize, they would have to split the winnings with the provider of the fighter jet.

One side could gain competition equipment and money while the other side would obtain real combat verification and recover experimental costs.

A ten-minute real battle was worth more than a thousand hours of a regular test flight, as it could uncover the advantages and disadvantages of the aircraft’s performance in the shortest time with the highest efficiency.

Thus, fighter jet manufacturers would actively participate in such dark events.

Participants could also bring their own aerial weapons, and the organizers provided generous conveniences, such as all-inclusive accommodations, maintenance sites and equipment, certain medical conditions, and a free mechanical team.

In a war death match that combined high-tech armaments and lives, the prize money was astounding—funded by ticket purchases, betting commissions, and sponsorships, the accumulated prize could sometimes exceed two hundred million dollars, enough to purchase any fifth-generation fighter jet in service worldwide.

At the end of the challenge letter, there was a special material slip printed with a format Lin Mo had never seen before, featuring an IPv6 website, contact code, and recommendation ID, along with a barcode and a QR code.

This indicated that the special material slip was unique—could it be a ticket for the competition?

Battlefield: Syria

Faction: Free choice

Enemies: Enemy aircraft, ground air defense

Scoring: Number of shoots down

Elimination Condition: Death

Not everyone could participate or spectate; at least three regulars had to vouch for them for admission, just like the ticket that Lockheed Martin gave Lin Mo. Not only Lockheed Martin, but also McDonnell Douglas and Boeing jointly ensured Lin Mo’s entry.

The ten-million-dollar cash check was not compensation; the challenge letter made it very clear. It was a relocation fee, or bluntly put, "life money." As long as Lin Mo participated in this large competition, the check would automatically become valid.

Lockheed could provide Lin Mo with a fighter jet for the competition for free. While an F-22 was out of the question, they could offer a second-hand F-15 as a competition aircraft.

If Lin Mo could survive until the end of the competition, not only would he win a huge prize, but his grievances with Lockheed would also be wiped clean.

Before this, Lockheed would completely cease all actions against Lin Mo.

"Lockheed is really playing a good game!"

What a bold move, striking right at Lin Mo’s vital point. This was a war game that once involved Lin Mo’s old Russian comrade, "Caviar," in Syria.

"What do you mean?"

Although Townsend Williams didn’t know what was inside the package, Lin Mo’s reaction suggested it was a significant choice to make.

Lockheed hadn’t even considered whether Lin Mo would refuse, as if they were certain he would accept.