In response to the cosmic situation facing Sky Dragon Empire, a national military strategy conference was held in Cosmic Year 450032, or Sky Dragon Year 8, Month 10, at the capital, Flying Dragon Star. Over 1,000 key figures attended, including military and political leaders not stationed in the Flying Dragon System, lifelong elders of the Elder Council, and other elders.
This conference would set the empire's current military defense and action plans, defining clear goals for future wars.
"Everyone, you know our empire's situation. It's grim, but it proves our strength—otherwise, they wouldn't panic. Still, we can't be careless with these 'dishes' served up. There might be worms—not fatal, but unsightly. We must clean them thoroughly, sparing no effort, to ensure we can swallow them with confidence." My words sparked roaring applause from the delegates.
"For Sky Dragon Empire's prosperity, this conference aims to keep enemies beyond our borders, decisively crushing any latent threats. That's all from me. Now, let's hear from our ministers on their departments' status, so we can grasp our nation's strength and craft realistic military strategies." I keep it short. Long-winded speeches make heads spin—who'd follow that?
First up was Equipment Minister General Sige.
"Greetings. I'll report on Sky Dragon Empire's military equipment since founding eight years ago. We have 11 main army groups, totaling 25 legions, each with 200,000 super warships, 20,000 large warships, 10,000 large transport warships, and 10,000 armaments. Our three ace army groups each have a Space Fortress, with 700,000 armaments total. Additionally, we have 20 regular legions, each with 180,000 super warships, 10,000 large warships, and 10,000 transport warships, totaling 200,000 vessels per legion. We've equipped our fleets with 2.6 billion mech-soldiers. Report complete."
Next was Training Minister General Menglong.
"My department has trained 1 million personnel per main legion, totaling 26.2 million across 25 legions. The 20 regular legions have 20 million. We have 6 million God-Demon armament warriors. Currently, 600 million reservists are in training, with 300 million ready for immediate deployment. Including 10 million retired soldiers, we can field 800 million optimal troops at any time. In a national emergency, we can mobilize 8 billion." The delegates gaped, then erupted in applause. Menglong didn't mention that Flying Dragon System's and Yanhuang's elite warriors, beyond those commanding or in God-Demon units, are scattered across secret bases in our domain, training in seclusion. They're civilians in peacetime, only emerging in dire crises—the empire's true backbone.
Then came Mineral Resources Minister General Gong Shuyun. (Gong Shuyun: "Kid, I come to you, and you stick me with this? At least give me a decent rank!" Feitian: "Boss, don't blame me. War's not your thing—this safe stats job suits you." Gong Shuyun: "You saying I can't fight? Back in my day…")
"We control 600,000 mineral-rich dead stars across Flying Dragon and Milky Way Systems, enough to build 600 billion warships and sustain them for 10 million years." Damn! Gong's words ignited the room. With enough manpower and industry, our military might is unstoppable. Terrifying.
"Ministers have shared hard data. Now, let's discuss how to use these resources to build our great Sky Dragon Empire," I said, eyeing the delegates.
After three days of debate, we set three defense lines for imperial security: the first beyond our borders, the second covering Pandora, Little Milky Way, and Milky Way Systems, and the third around Flying Dragon Star's orbiting planets.
To block enemies before the third line, we'll deepen military ties with neighboring nations, stationing troops in weaker ones. Main army groups will deliver lethal strikes to invaders or expedition to other stars. Regular legions will hold the homeland and retake occupied planets.
Our top priority is strengthening ties with Kamet Alliance and other Second Cosmos civilizations, boosting bilateral trade to secure resources and minerals.
Post-conference, our forces' missions were clear, sparking a training frenzy. Tensions along the Sky Dragon-Wushite border, already high, surged. These months, various unit insignias flashed at the border. Wushite's childish tricks—thinking we didn't notice—funneled troops there. Hell, this region's a hot potato. Our presence eases half of Kamet's pressure.
Facing Wushite's troop buildup, we're prepping hard. Pandora and Little Milky Way's reservists aren't fully trained, so I stationed 10 regular legions there as reserves, ready to hammer Wushite. With nearly 20 legions—half our strength—in this zone, plus mobile Space Fortresses, we're rock-solid.
In Flying Dragon System, Yellow Dragon Army Group, with three regular legions, guards the west from Divine Realm Star to Black Dragon Star. White Dragon Army Group, with three legions, holds the east. Flying Dragon System's Demon Realm Star and Flying Dragon Star are secured by two regular legions.
We're forced into this. Who knows when a First Cosmos power might strike? Wushite's no worry—our heavy border presence is to seize territory fast and quell revolts. Both sides, fully aware, prep for a fatal blow.
When Slin and two soldiers returned to their warship's landing site, it was gone. His heart sank. "Stay sharp—check for tracks." Hopeless, but Slin clung to finding clues.
"Captain, blood here!" a soldier called.
Slin rushed over, spotting a small patch of congealed, purplish blood—Wushite's unique trait. His heart iced over.
"We leave now. They've spotted us. Can't report to the empire," Slin said, decisively leading his men into the jungle's depths.
Three days later, they emerged, ragged, at America's border. "Lieutenant Colonel, what now?" a sergeant panted.
"We can't leave Earth. It's too far from the empire—they haven't noticed our loss yet. They might, but rescue's uncertain. Don't bank on it," Slin said, tinkering with a laptop-like smart computer.
The soldiers slumped. "Lieutenant Colonel, live on this polluted rock? I can't stand hours here, let alone longer," one groaned.
"Pollution's the least of it—we're alive. Our comrades likely aren't," Slin snapped. They shut up.
"I've decided. We head to M Country across the border. For 200 years, it was Earth's strongest until a decade ago. Besides China, the spacefaring nation, it's still tops. If we cooperate, offering advanced tech, we can hinder Sky Dragon and maybe build a ship to return. Gods, China's descended from ferocious dragons!" Slin gasped, browsing China's data online.
The resting soldiers crowded around. The screen showed a massive golden dragon—sharp claws, huge yet agile, screaming raw power.
"Lieutenant Colonel, is this what fought Pandora?" a soldier stammered.
"Let me check." Slin scrolled. "These creatures transform. This is their second-stage form, seen by many. Rumors say there's a third or higher, but no witnesses." Slin and his men shivered.
"Lieutenant Colonel, if they transform like this, our ships are useless. No warship matches a creature's instincts," a soldier said.
"If we'd sent this back sooner…" Slin sighed, frustrated. Sky Dragon's not just tech-superior—their bodies are monstrous. How does 100 pounds become hundreds of tons? Sky Dragon, truly a dragon's home.
"Look, Lieutenant Colonel, their population's nearly 2 billion. They've taken all with their bloodline off-planet. We can't even grab one to study," a soldier muttered.
Slin sighed. "Here, they're kings—proud creatures. No one dares experiment under their noses. They're mild unless provoked, so we should be fine. Unbelievably, a small eastern nation invaded them before they regained their instincts."
The trio gawked at dragon lore. "Lieutenant Colonel, with so many, how do we beat them? They're like 20 invincible fleets. No cosmic nation's this strong. They barely used forces on Pandora," a soldier said.
Slin frowned. "The text mentions their second-stage form. Only that or higher threatens our ships. Those reaching it are likely few, but even so, close combat's a loss. In space, their ships outclass ours. Our only edge is numbers, but who knows if they've built more this year?"
"Don't know what the empire's brass thinks. We die, they get glory. Dying for our nation's fine, but for Pandora's four-armed freaks? No sense," a soldier griped.
"Enough. I don't get it either, but soldiers obey. Focus on surviving Earth—big plans are beyond us," Slin said, waving them off.
"Get it together. We'll talk to M Country's rulers. Hope they're sharp, or we're done," Slin said, clapping to rally them.
"Lieutenant Colonel, will they bite?" a soldier worried, eyeing the dragon threat.
"Hah, relax. Their history shows they'll do anything to stay dominant. They're at odds with Sky Dragon. If we offer a chance to reclaim glory, they'll come running, offering women, anything," Slin said confidently.
The soldiers' hormones surged, drooling over M Country's women. Days of boredom led them to Earth's porn sites, and the varied acts and bodies had them hooked. The chance to taste Earth women? They were barely sane.
Slin, staring at his screen, noticed the silence. Turning, he saw their lustful daze. Furious, he slapped them hard. "Damn you idiots! Death's knocking, and you're thinking that?"
Snapped awake, they faced Slin's glaring eyes, wiping drool. "I warn you—stay sharp out there. No womanizing. Succeed, stay safe, and you'll have any woman. Got it?" Slin roared.
No ban on women, just caution? They cheered, "Understood!" "Change clothes—our gear's too obvious. Sky Dragon'll spot us, and forget women," Slin said, pocketing his computer.
Thrilled, they agreed—anything for women. At a large farm, after an hour, they spotted a house.
"Stay low—don't get caught," Slin muttered, annoyed. A Wushite officer, reduced to thieving on Earth?
They climbed a sewer pipe to the farm villa's second-floor balcony. Luck held—the glass door was open. They slipped in.
The duplex had no ceiling between the first and second floors' living rooms. As they crept along the upstairs hall, moans and grunts echoed below. The porn-savvy soldiers knew the drill.
Peeking down, they saw a naked couple "exercising" in the living room. "Come on, baby! Oh, yes!" The woman's cries lit their blood. "Lieutenant Colonel, should we…" A soldier mimed a throat-slit.
"No moves—they'll spot us. Grab clothes and go. Don't alert them," Slin ordered, saving the couple from death and her from assault. They found a wardrobe, dressed, and retraced their steps, heading for Washington, M Country.
M Country Federal Investigation Bureau
Director George, rare in leisure, groaned, "Oh, babe, your skills are killer." Shuddering, he sank into his office chair, satisfied.
His secretary, foxlike, rose from under the desk, her artificial breasts swaying. George grabbed them, pulling her for a kiss. Urgent knocks interrupted—only emergencies warranted such noise.
George released her, both straightening clothes, feigning work. "Enter," he called, composed.
"Director, our system's hacked," a specialist reported.
"Goddamn, you need me for this? Can't you handle it?" George snapped, irked at the interruption. "These idiots waste time hacking instead of doing something useful."
"No, Director, it's odd. They left a message about M Country's future, insisting you go," the specialist said.
"Oh?" George perked up. Hackers rarely left notes demanding contact. "When and where?"
"Tomorrow, 3 p.m., Houston International Hotel restaurant," the specialist replied.
George nodded. "Prep a team. When I go, follow my signals, got it?" "Yes, sir."
As the specialist left, the secretary sauntered over, pressing her breasts against George's arm. "Babe, not today—big stuff's up," he said. She pouted, sashaying out.
Meanwhile, in Houston International Hotel's 18th-floor Room 5, three men huddled around a laptop—Slin and his soldiers.
"Lieutenant Colonel, done?" a soldier asked. Slin, relaxed, hit a key. "Our smart computer cracked their system easy. Now we wait for tomorrow's talks."
"Hah, my hard days are over!" a soldier laughed. "What if they refuse?" another fretted. Slin nodded approvingly. "We're not just pitching one nation—usually their close allies. With such stakes, it's on their smarts." Slin downed a glass of 2050 XO, savoring it, eyes closed.
The next afternoon, George arrived at Houston International Hotel. As his electromagnetic car stopped, he stepped out. "Setup ready?" he asked via his collar communicator.
"All set," came the reply. George strode in, mood lifted.
At the restaurant, he froze, spotting someone. Confirming, the man approached. "Ono-kun, visiting America without a heads-up? People might think we're bad hosts—quite rude in the East," George said.
"Hah, Director George, no worries. I'm here briefly for business, leaving soon. I know you're busy, so I didn't disturb," said Ono Jiro, Japan's Military Minister.
Annoyed but diplomatic, George shook Ono's hand, cursing his team for missing such a figure's arrival. Time to whip them into shape. "What brings you, Ono? Need my help, just say it." Is he here for the same thing? Too coincidental. George's experience screamed their goals aligned. This hacker had skill—George was here for America's safety, but Ono's long trip raised suspicions. Is the hacker planning to bomb us VIPs?
George signaled his secretary to have teams search for explosives. "Nothing major. Someone invited me to talk," Ono said honestly, knowing George wouldn't leave easily. Better be open—Japan still needed America.
"Oh?" As they chatted, a commotion erupted at the entrance. George turned—his and Ono's guards had blocked three suited men. One shouted, "Guests blocked by hosts?"
George's gut screamed military. Are they the ones who summoned us? Three soldiers—what for? Rebellion?
"Let them in," George ordered. The guards complied, four tailing the trio for safety.
The refined-looking leader, clearly their head, said, "Director George, no need for such caution." George laughed, "I'm old,胆子小—unlike you fit gentlemen, I need escorts." So natural, you'd think it was a reunion. Indeed, Slin's soldiers were elite fleet picks.
Slin gestured to Ono. "Ono-kun's here—let's talk." Setting his smart computer on the table, he sat. "Don't be shocked by what I say." George and Ono nodded. Slin's soldiers and the escorts spread out, guarding.
"Gentlemen, I'm Major General Slin from Wushite Empire, Second Cosmos, here to discuss cooperation for mutual benefit." Slin eyed them. "Doubt me? Seen a computer this advanced?" He opened it, inflating his rank three levels—nobody'd know.
The computer's sleek interface hooked them. A woman's avatar appeared, speaking, her lifelike expressions signaling AI's peak—smart tech. Ono dreamed of Japan's space leap with this. George, calming, said, "Major General, I believe you're from Wushite. But why us? You've got motives—not aid or support, that's for fools." He stared, demanding truth.
"Hah, smart men are refreshing. True, your strength wouldn't warrant talks. But we share an enemy, making the impossible possible," Slin said, swirling his wine.
"Shared enemy? Clarify," George probed, sly.
Slin smiled. "Director, no games—you're sharp. Would I show up clueless? I'm here with sincerity, beneficial for us all."
"What cooperation? What do you offer, and what do you want?" Ono asked, tearing his eyes from the computer.
"Don't you crave the cosmos? We'll provide space tech and smart computers. You stir trouble in Sky Dragon's backyard, distract them, and, if needed, send troops. We split conquered Sky Dragon territory 50-50. How's that?" Slin proposed.
George and Ono nearly leapt, but political savvy kept them cool. "Just that? Sounds too good for you," George said.
"No gain, would I bother?" Slin grinned.
"Is Sky Dragon that strong? They're new to space," George pressed.
Crafty, fishing for intel. Slin replied, "You know them better—their dragon nature isn't for our frail bodies. They're few, we're many. Just divert some forces—no direct fights, just delay them. Wushite handles the rest." Slin hid Sky Dragon's true might—full disclosure, and they'd bolt.
George and Ono pondered. "Can we discuss and reply in two days?" George asked.
"Fine, I'll await your good news," Slin said, then sheepishly added, "Could you lend some cash? Our currency's different."
Stunned, they nodded, handing Slin a $10 million check.
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