Munitions Empire

In front of Wang Hai, the crosshairs of the gunsight quivered left and right, as a Dahua Model 1 Fighter Jet swayed back and forth without pause.

Before him, the altimeter was spinning rapidly, and his altitude had plummeted from 5000 to less than 3000.

As the opponent appeared near the crosshairs once again, Wang Hai suppressed the urge to fire, waiting for the plane to align with his trajectory once more.

Sure enough, after patiently waiting a while, the enemy plane quickly moved toward the direction of the gunsight's crosshairs.

Wang Hai didn't hesitate; he seized the opportunity and briefly squeezed the trigger, watching as the path of a tracer bullet pierced right through the enemy aircraft that had just flown back into the crosshairs.

A second beam of light also penetrated the wing of the Dahua fighter jet, leaving a hole behind.

The struck Dahua fighter jet shuddered, began to trail black smoke, and started descending, while Wang Hai maneuvered his own plane to its side, watching the opposing pilot flip open his cockpit canopy and struggle to clamber out of the plummeting aircraft.

The enemy pilot stretched out his body, using the airflow to detach from the plane, which, without its canopy and emitting flames, trailed thick smoke and began to fall out of control at an increased speed.

Then Wang Hai saw a white parachute bloom open; the enemy aviator had pulled his chute, drifting toward the ground with the wind, bit by bit.

Wang Hai, controlling his own fighter jet, started to ascend and no longer watched the enemy pilot he had downed.

Excited shouts from his wingman still reached his ears through his headset; the ally had also brought down an enemy plane and was fiercely dogfighting another.

Just as he himself had done in dealing with the opponent, Wang Hai did not hesitate; he took control of his fighter jet and dashed toward the distant chase between the two airplanes.

The trailing plane was an enemy aircraft since his wingman was continually calling out to Wang Hai over the radio, hoping Wang Hai could help him shake off the persistent enemy at his tail.

"Don't panic! I'm on my way! Zigzag! Zigzag! Don't let him get you!" Wang Hai sped up, shouting loudly to his wingman.

"I'm trying to break away! Not enough speed!" His wingman sounded a bit nervous, but the fact that he could still respond showed he was in reasonable condition.

"Hold steady! I'm coming! Turn left! I'll cut in and open fire!" Having found a shortcut, Wang Hai issued orders to his wingman.

Obviously, the wingman had seen Wang Hai and immediately yelled back excitedly, "I see you! I see you! To the left! To the left! I'm coming your way!"

In Wang Hai's view, his wingman's Butcher Fighter Jet swiftly veered, rushing in his direction.

That enemy fighter, locked on the wingman's tail, was also banking left, the two planes very close to each other, underlining the perilous situation the wingman had been in moments before.

"Break away! Break away!" With his reticle trained on his own wingman, Wang Hai loudly reminded him.

The ally veered to the right, a sudden turn that exposed the Dahua fighter right behind him.

Wang Hai did not hesitate and opened fire immediately, unleashing a barrage straight ahead, hitting the nose of the Dahua Model 1 Fighter Jet.

The enemy's engine emitted black smoke and then burst into flames. Wang Hai adjusted his aircraft's nose and did not witness any pilot eject from the burning aircraft.

After circling around, he once again looked down at the ground below, seeing the burst of flames and the trail of black smoke.

"I didn't see the pilot bail out! Did you?" Wang Hai withdrew his gaze and asked his wingman.

"I didn't see it either. I only saw that he caught fire…" The wingman took a few seconds before replying.

"Let's head back! Hopefully, there are still bombers left to strike," Wang Hai said after glancing at his altimeter in front of him and speaking to his wingman.

"Got it! I'll follow you." The wingman fell in behind and flew slightly behind and beside Wang Hai. Together, they had just downed five enemy planes, which definitely qualified as a significant victory.

"Watch your fuel levels!" Wang Hai, seeing his altitude restored to 4000 meters, gave another reminder.

"About half left." The wingman provided a relatively precise figure: "Should be enough!"

...

On the other side, amidst the chaotic skies, the pilots of the Dahua bombers finally saw signs of retreat being made.

This was the gesture they had long been waiting for because everyone knew it was unlikely they could break through the Tang Army's fighter jet defenses to reach their bombing target.

Over 20 Butcher Fighter Jets of the Tang Army charged into the battlefield, their arrival becoming the last straw that broke the camel's back.

Without fighter jet escorts, the Dahua bombers suffered heavy losses, with planes being shot down every moment. The sky was filled with the glow of tracer bullets and the terrifying flashes of explosions.

The sight of the giant bombers breaking apart in the air was no longer unusual, and the gunners and pilots scattering with the wreckage were so numerous that the survivors began to grow numb.

At first, because there were so many bombers and communication was poor, many pilots didn't know how many had been lost on their side.

But as time went on, more enemy planes appeared, and fewer Dahua Empire bombers remained. Earlier, there were more than half left, but now, less than a third remained.

Despite there still being over a hundred bombers, the pilots and gunners aboard no longer had the conviction to fight on, or perhaps no longer had the capacity to do so.

On a Dahua bomber that had miraculously not yet been shot down, a gunner pulled out a drum magazine from beneath a row of bullet holes made by friendly fire and shouted to the pilot in front, "This is the last drum! I'm out of ammo!"

"Conserve it... Conserve it..." the pilot cursed desperately, not turning back as he maneuvered the plane to begin heading home, "We're returning, maybe we'll make it back if we're lucky!"

They had just been ordered to drop all their bombs, lightening the load and thus making the journey faster than on the way there.

If they continued at this pace, they might actually have a chance to shake off the Tang Army fighter jets pursuing them and make it back to Sword Pavilion.

The possibility of such an opportunity made everyone aboard the planes breathe a sigh of relief – after all, no one wanted to die here.

"Watch out!" While they were talking, the gunner saw a Butcher Fighter Jet of the Tang Army rushing in. A tracer bullet struck the wing of their bomber, tearing a hole in the canvas wing covering, which flapped wildly in the wind.

"Damn it! The spar isn't broken, is it? Check it! Check it!" The pilot, feeling his plane becoming harder to control, shouted anxiously.

Pale with fear, the gunner, who didn't even have a parachute, knew he'd be the most unfortunate one—if the plane crashed, he'd be the one... or rather, among those who suffered most.

So he quickly checked the punctured wing, noting that a steel cable seemed to be cut, and the several unrestrained spars nearby were slightly swaying in the wind.

But the problem didn't seem too bad, at least they weren't broken, and the damage to the canvas on the wing wasn't too severe.

Plus, they had already dropped the bombs below, lightening the plane's load, so the overall lift was still in surplus.

"One of the steel wires is broken! But it's not a big problem!" the gunner shouted loudly, "Stabilize the plane! Don't let us fall!"

He was, joking aside, the most anxious person right now. What would you feel if you suddenly noticed a broken support on the rollercoaster track ahead, or if you were about to be launched in a free-fall ride and realized two screws had come loose on your seat?

Now they were at an altitude of 3000 meters – far more dangerous and thrilling than any rollercoaster or free-fall ride!

"You think I want to fall? Shut up! If you shout again, I'll throw you down," the pilot, also very tense, his voice shaking as he screamed.

If he could, he also wouldn't choose to trust his life to the seemingly unreliable parachute strapped to his back.

"Damn it, shut up!" Not hearing a reply from the gunner behind him, the pilot repeated firmly, "I still want to go back!"

"Maybe... we can't make it back," the gunner's voice came from behind him. The pilot was startled, then suddenly turned his head, following the gunner's gaze, and saw 16 more Butcher Fighter Jets appearing below the clouds.

"Damn it, how many fighter jets do they have," the pilot muttered with a bitter smile.

Above them, Wang Hai, who had just flown back with his wingman, began a new round of diving attacks. This time, no Dahua fighter jets interrupted their assault.

They calmly lined up their fighter jets' noses with the Dahua bombers below, which were in complete disarray, rapidly closing the distance.

Then, at a confidently close range, they opened fire abruptly, turning their targets to shrapnel. The cannons were so effective against the wooden fuselage that a short burst was enough to tear the massive bomber into pieces.

Accompanied by the intense sounds of the machine guns, one after another Dahua bomber began to fall, disintegrate, and catch fire.

Meanwhile, at the Anti-Aircraft Artillery Troops' position on the outskirts of the southern oil fields, an officer frowned as he looked at the sky... He and his Troops had been waiting here for an afternoon now, and he hadn't seen a single enemy plane...