Chapter 521

Chapter 521: The Price of Substitution

A 500-kilogram Chinese cluster bomb expanded instantly into 200 bullets at a height of 200 meters, with each bullet containing explosive power twice that of TNT, delivering immense killing power.

The weapons equipped on the "Red Eagle" fiercely pursued their damage potential, commonly found among the Night Special Forces.

Due to the devastating impact and endless repercussions of cluster bombs (with 30% of the bullets failing to detonate, akin to a minefield), representatives from 111 countries reached an agreement on May 28, 2008, to ban their use and promised to destroy existing stockpiles within eight years.

However, major cluster bomb-producing countries, including America, Russia, China, Pakistan, India, and Israel, did not participate in the agreement or sign the treaty.

Lin Mo could still use this deadly weapon against the illegal armed militants without hesitation. The legality or illegality didn’t concern him; if the sky fell, someone tall would naturally hold it up. His and the Night Special Forces’ main duty was to kill, producing slaughter as efficiently as possible.

Who said Chinese people were kind-hearted? These illegal armed militants would surely panic.

The gathering point of the illegal armed militants erupted into a sea of flames, stretching the size of a football field, which unsurprisingly triggered a sympathetic explosion from the Open-air ammunition piles.

Countless bullets, grenades, and shells detonated in a chain reaction, creating a series of popping explosions as the fire spread rapidly.

The ammunition detonations cascaded like a chain reaction, intensifying in power and even launching debris several kilometers away.

Over four thousand illegal armed militants were engulfed by the explosion’s range, as the chaos turned their camp into a scene of utter turmoil.

Occasionally, explosive debris flew into the crowd, and the strong shockwave sent people flying, followed by screams.

This was truly a case of the city gate catching fire, harming the innocent fish in the moat.

A single 500-kilogram high-explosive cluster bomb’s power magnified within the ammunition pile, leading to countless casualties among the armed militants, with nearly all those near the ammo pile suffering fatefully.

The jet fighter vanished without a trace after completing its bombing run.

Just as the surviving agents and armed leaders scrambled to manage the aftermath, the air defense alarm sounded again.

Some militants shouted out,

“F-22! Damn it, two more are coming!”

“Quick, quick, bring out the air defense missiles; we must shoot them down!”

More armed militants angrily yelled, refusing to believe any excuses of exercises or passing by; they were determined to bring down those two fighter jets preparing for a second airstrike.

“Purple 1, current altitude 2000 meters, any findings?”

“Purple 2, nothing yet. There was a flicker on the radar screen earlier; could it be a system malfunction?”

The two F-22 Raptors were heading toward Taloqan city.

“It’s possible, but there’s word of an unidentified fighter jet; it might be that one.”

“Okay, let’s continue searching forward for 100 kilometers; if we find nothing, we’ll return.”

“Purple 1, there’s an Afghan armed group gathering point ahead. Should we go around?”

“No need, Purple 2; they have nothing to do with us. Don’t worry; they won’t attack us. We are Americans; these Afghan trash have long been scared of us.”

“Look, there’s thick smoke ahead; seems like there’s a fire! Hmm, quickly engage the optical lens; it looks like it just suffered an attack.”

“Purple 2, let’s go take a look; we might find some clues.”

“It seems like a bombing!”

The Electro-Optical Sensor System (EOSS) displayed infrared thermal images transformed from a focal plane array and digital imaging technology on the Raptor’s cockpit screen.

The blazing flames and explosions were visibly prominent, alongside immobile bodies lying on the ground and crowds running in confusion.

“Alas, poor child, he must have been blown to bits! Wait, did you say bombing? Damn it, it must be that fighter jet.”

“That’s right, it’s definitely it! Ha, ‘Purple 1’, you finally reacted, oh no, watch out! Missiles!”

A piercing alarm blared suddenly from the threat warning system in the cockpit of the Raptor squadron.

The radar screen showed several bright dots rapidly approaching the two-fighter formation, while countless lights flickered at a distance from the armed militants’ gathering point, revealing small arms fire.

“Use vertical rolls to climb, drop fuel tanks, quickly!”

The two F-22 Raptors swiftly raised their noses and shot straight up.

Compared to various firearms on the ground, the greatest threat to them was the incoming Stinger missiles.

They were within range of shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles on the ground, and due to the overwhelming number of incoming missiles, they didn’t even have time to perform tactical maneuvers like Dutch rolls; they had to climb vertically to escape the missiles’ altitude range as quickly as possible.

Several Stinger missiles, leaving long trails of smoke, screamed toward the Raptors, hot on their tails, as if completely locked onto the deadly heat of the engines’ exhaust, like hungry giants eager to plunge in.

However, the Raptors were not so easily thwarted; after shedding their fuel tanks, the aircraft felt much lighter, and the two Pratt & Whitney F119-PW-100 turbofan vector thrust engines unleashed a thrust-to-weight ratio of up to 1.4.

Pride of Lockheed Martin.

Pride of the United States Air Force.

As the Stinger missiles approached at a speed of 2.6 Mach, the F-22s rapidly climbed to 3,000 meters, far exceeding the reach of the Stinger missiles, which consumed their last bits of fuel, losing power and falling helplessly to the ground.

“Phew, that was close! I almost got shot down; I was blacking out for a moment—everything went dark, and I thought I was done for.”

As the alarm in the cockpit turned off, the Raptor wingman, “Purple 2,” sighed in relief, his back drenched in sweat.

When the rapid pull of the control stick caused the aircraft’s nose to pitch up and create positive G-forces, blood rushed from the pilot’s head to his lower body, causing a significant loss of blood to the brain, resulting in momentary blackout.

The pilot couldn’t see anything at all, enveloped in darkness; this is what blackout means.

Only after a period of time post-overload would the pilot’s vision return to normal.

Blackout is also a precursor to fainting, presenting significant danger to flight safety, second only to redout. Only Dragon Knights, who are completely adapted to operating in the atmosphere, could ignore blackouts and redouts.

“I feel the same; thank goodness we’re still alive.” Lead pilot “Purple 1” also broke into a cold sweat, leveling out with his wingman.

“‘Purple 1’, didn’t you just say those guys below wouldn’t attack us? So, what does this count as now?”

After evading the attack, anger bubbled up inside wingman “Purple 2.”

“Damn it, those bastards deserve to go to hell! I’m sorry, number two; I was too naive. I take back my previous judgment. I’m going to take revenge on them and make them know that America is not to be messed with. Calling base! Calling base! We are under attack by armed men outside Taloqan city; requesting authorization for an attack.”

Lead pilot “Purple 1” felt humiliated in front of his partner, furious and directing his rage at those daring enough to poke the tiger’s whiskers.

To actively attack the U.S. Air Force with Stinger missiles is a heinous act, and they must be punished for it.

“Attack authorization complete; permission granted for retaliation!”

The U.S. Air Force base, known for its zero tolerance towards offenses, certainly would not swallow this insult quietly. How could they maintain any authority if they let others strike at them? It was akin to a grandpa eating poison, tired of living.

Following the regulations of wartime response, the control tower at Bagram Air Force Base decisively approved the attack request from the Raptor squadron.

The two F-22s turned to face the ground, initiating a shallow angle dive. Although designed primarily for air-to-air engagements, they would not let those ground bastards off the hook.

The 20mm cannon unleashed a storm of shells, pouring fire on the ammunition stockpile still in the process of sympathetic detonation.

Rows of bright red tracer rounds rained down on the ground; wherever they passed, bodies shattered, and chaos erupted.

The 480 rounds of 20mm high-explosive tracer rounds wreaked havoc, sending horrific cries of pain echoing from the ground. The 20mm caliber was already in the artillery domain, immensely powerful, even armored vehicles might not withstand it.

If Lin Mo’s J-18 "Red Eagle" opened fire, the tracer rounds would be green, completely different from an authentic F-22.

“Damn those bastards; may they all go to hell!”

“Ha ha, let’s do it again, empty the magazine!”

The Raptor squadron quickly forgot their original mission, reveling instead in the thrill of slaughter.

At the height the two F-22 Raptors operated, the AK-47s and other light weapons on the ground posed no threat, merely lamenting their helplessness.

Only the anti-aircraft machine guns posed some danger, but the effective altitude of the 12.7mm anti-aircraft machine guns maxed out at just 2,000 meters; how could they catch those incredibly agile F-22s?

Even the cannon fire inflicted significant damage on the armed militants, especially the armored vehicles and trucks, which suffered horrendous losses. Two armed helicopters, barely off the ground, were turned into scrap metal.

Adding to the tragic fallout from the secondary explosions, the Raptor squadron’s cannon fire resulted in at least six hundred casualties.

But that wasn’t the end.

Americans excelled at bullying Afghan minions.

Half an hour later, the still-frightened armed militants faced saturation strikes from A-10 Warthog (also known as the Warthog) attack aircraft that took off from Bagram Air Force Base, fully loaded with extensive ground-attack weaponry.