Sky-cracking Rider

"Unknown enemy aircraft rapidly approaching!"

Loud announcements echoed inside the control tower at 909 Aircrew Base, signaling an emergency situation.

The vehicle-mounted mobile radar had caught signals of flying objects, as the original ground-based radar had been thoroughly destroyed. Repairing it would not be a quick fix, so this temporary substitute had to suffice, though its performance was naturally far inferior to the permanently installed ground-based radar.

Even so, the vehicle-mounted mobile radar was still able to cover the entire patrol radius of 909 Aircrew Base, and then some.

The entire base immediately triggered a piercing, shrill air raid alarm.

"F**K! How dare they? How dare they! Bastards!"

Ximen Temple Kong, the executive manager of the 909 Aircrew Base, roared furiously.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

His MiG Squadron only dared to feign ignorance and bluff their way into a tentative intrusion, but the 911 side didn't even bother with disguises or excuses, brazenly heading straight for 909 Aircrew Base.

A MiG-28 slowly approached from behind to the left rear of the F-22. Chen Fei did not use the afterburner, allowing the fully armed Chekhov Big Bear to catch up, forming a dual-aircraft formation aimed at the air base 390 kilometers ahead.

The silvery tide that filled the entire F-22 cockpit ebbbed away, retracting back into Chen Fei's body.

He shook his head and glanced around, as if nothing had happened, but the remarkable sensation of man-machine unity was gone.

"Old David's old buddy just handed over to you like that?"

Chekhov stared at the "Raptor" which gleamed silver, clearly reflecting the sky and ground, and saliva virtually dripped from his mouth with envy.

Although he had not undergone training at the private Eagle Nest airfield, he had still heard of the formidable reputation of the "Eagle King."

After the Three Realms war ended, Old David retired with full honors. In addition to a career of military achievements, he took with him his trusty old comrade-in-arms. There were very few heroes who could claim such a distinction.

"It's a replica!"

This was not the first time Chen Fei had piloted an F-22 "Raptor" fighter jet.

His proficiency in piloting the F-22 in Old David's flight simulator even surpassed that of the MiG-28, and he had long formed a combat bond with this fighter jet.

The original F-22s no longer existed, having become nothing more than Energy Points and templates in the Physical Evolution Database—a sort of rebirth. With sufficient parts, more "Raptors" could be replicated to perfection, right down to the smallest detail.

"A replica? How much?"

Chekhov immediately got excited. As the leader of the Genuine Fragrance Combat Flight Squadron, his income was naturally substantial. Further adding to it was his family's factory, which provided substantial dividends annually, earning enough to keep an ordinary family comfortable for a lifetime. He was genuinely wealthy, having achieved financial freedom long ago.

Original F-22s were hard to come by, even for the American Federation, which didn't have many in reserve. Even if there were some in storage, after such a long time, they would have deteriorated—expecting them to fly upon retrieval was a pipe dream.

But replicas, especially those capable of flying, were simply a matter of money. And was it a problem if it could be solved with money?

Chekhov was willing to spend nearly three million Star Yuan to collect an original, factory-made AK-47. Was he really short of the Star Yuan to add a F-22 "Raptor" to his collection?

"You'd have to ask Old David about that since he has most of the essential components."

Had it not been for the parts shipped by Old David, Chen Fei would have had no way to get the shell to fly, not to mention that the avionics and flight control systems were something that could not be directly substituted with special abilities.

The F-22 is designed with relaxed stability. Its maneuverability is entirely contingent on extreme flying at the edge of losing control. Without flight controls, it would probably amount to an array of fancy crash styles, making a stalling spin seem trivial.

Once the parts from Old David run out, Chen Fei would likely need more, or at least the production processes and equipment to make them, though 911 Aircrew Base might be too cramped for such operations.

Only Old David's fortune could support replicating so many components. If it were left to Chen Fei, even selling himself would not cover the cost of these parts, not even a small fraction of them.

Chekhov Big Bear was stunned for a moment, hesitant, but ultimately couldn't help but curse, "Damn it, forget it!"

Old David cherished his old companion like his own life, and it would be impossible for outsiders to get their hands on it. Getting parts from Old David was likely harder than reaching the sky, and Chekhov's own face just didn't cut it.

He wondered what kind of love potion "Rookie" had given to the old man that he even managed to shear the wool from a coffin.

"Cost price, 100 million Star Yuan!"

Chen Fei quoted the number off the top of his head. The price was fair and honest, guaranteeing he would never be an assassin in the fighter jet market.

"Hisss..."

The price still shocked Chekhov Big Bear, catching him completely off-guard—like a daylight robbery, he thought and said so.

"Why don't you go rob someone?"

Chen Fei spoke solemnly, "If it were a robbery price, it would have to be at least 200 million Star Yuan. Even then, it's still not as expensive as the tactical armor I'm wearing."

He wasn't bragging but bluntly speaking an unbelievable truth.

The "Flying Dragon" aerial combat tactical armor was genuinely acquired through sheer plunder.

"..."

Chekhov felt another stab in his chest, his entire being began to twist yet again.

Envy distorts a person, twisting them into something grotesque.

He quickly pulled out a bottle of Erguotou from his crotch and took a couple of gulps to calm his nerves.

In his slightly inebriated state, he felt considerably better, seemingly restored.

"What crappy aircraft, I, Chekhov, even if I'm broke and in love with it, would rather jump off a MiG and crash to the ground than buy your fighter jet!"

Inside the control tower at 911 Aircrew Base, the staff looked at one another in disbelief while the duty manager, Mahnam, massaged his forehead. The boss had just left, and now the squadron leader of the Combat Flight Squadron was stirring up trouble—it was truly exhausting!

"Well said!"

Chen Fei decisively praised the Big Bear Squadron Leader.

"Um... um, can you give a discount?"

What's integrity?

All eaten by the Big Bear!

"Rock-bottom price, 0.9999 discount!"

Your next journey awaits at empire

Chen Fei considered it seriously for a moment and gave a sincere quote.

A 0.9999 discount means 99.99 million Star Yuan, for a total discount of 10,000 Star Yuan.

But that's not how you should do the math. Imagine if the American Federation placed an order for a hundred aircraft, at a discount of 10,000 Star Yuan each, that'd add up to a million Star Yuan.

For a pauper who wishes they could split a coin in two to spend it twice, letting go of such a large sum of money could mean sleepless nights, wishing they could scratch the soil with their fingers in hopes of digging up a coin.

"WHAT?"

Is Uncle Chekhov really lacking that 10,000 Star Yuan?

Alright! These two are just hurting each other.

While the two were at loggerheads, the duty manager Mahnam slowly spoke over the comms channel, "You two, get back here now!"

"I'm just staying on the outskirts, not entering!" Chen Fei said.

Having finally taken to the skies, it made perfect sense to enjoy a full, thrilling flight. A F-22 with full fuel has a combat radius of 750 kilometers, but the actual range is enough to shuttle three times between Aircrew Bases 909 and 911.

"I have to keep an eye on 'Rookie'. I won't let him mess up!" Big Bear Chekhov replied with righteous indignation.

The person we're most worried about causing trouble is you, okay? The duty manager was so angry he was nearly having a heart attack.

With Boss Hana not on base, his words had no effect.

Inside the control tower, an employee operating the ground-based radar plucked up the courage to speak: "Manager Ma, I think 'Rookie' and 'Peanut Butter' did nothing wrong!"

"Nothing wrong? What's not wrong?"

Manager Mahnam glared at him. Everyone's so 'talented' with guts so big. At a time like this, they're still stirring the pot, aren't they afraid of making things even worse?

"The ancients said, not to reciprocate is against etiquette! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, revenge should not be put off overnight. Let them know that Aircrew Base 911 is not to be messed with."

The employee's voice grew louder.

Snap, snap, some people could not help but burst into applause. Those words were music to their ears!

As the applause started, it turned into something uncontrollable; more and more clapping ensued until the whole control tower was filled with it.

"Fine, fine! You guys are awesome!"

Duty manager Mahnam shook his head helplessly at his subordinates who were surging with emotion, then took out his phone to dial.

"Hello, this is Hana."

"Boss, this is duty manager Mahnam. The situation is like this..."

Though he was the duty manager, he wasn't enough to command everyone, so he had to resort to the real boss to report the current emergency.

Whether it's Chekhov or Chen Fei, they should still listen to the orders of Boss Hana, he believed.

Two minutes later, Mahnam ended the call, put down his phone, pressed down his headset, and spoke with righteous solemnity, "Aircrew Base 909, this is Aircrew Base 911 duty manager Mahnam. We issue a stern protest against your unauthorized intrusion into our patrol airspace without permission. All consequences arising from this action will be fully borne by your side.

We at Aircrew Base 911 love peace and wish to coexist amicably with our peers, maintaining the ecological balance and stability of the Xingdu Kush Mountain Area. We hope you recognize your mistake and have the courage to correct it..."

Across the public communication channel between Aircrew Bases 909 and 911, the latter was practically grabbing the former by the neck, ready to slap them with a giant palm, left and right.

※ Lesson one for military contractors: here, only strength is recognized, and reason is irrelevant. ※

Empowered by Boss Hana's full authorization, Mahnam didn't hesitate to tear off the disguise. So much for shelving disputes and joint development—yeah, like hell!

Joint development, my ass!

"You bastard, what are you saying? I'm going to kill you!~"

Over the other end of the public comms channel, within Aircrew Base 909, the duty executive manager Ximen Temple Kong jumped three feet in the air, fuming mad.

No one had ever dared to speak to him like that before.

The duty manager at Aircrew Base 911 must be tired of living. If the other person were right in front of him and he had a gun in his hand, he would definitely shoot the latter's head into a hornet's nest without hesitation.

Just then, a tremendous roar came from the sky.

Two aircraft, not belonging to Aircrew Base 909, appeared in everyone's field of vision, fast approaching.

Someone on the ground recognized the unusual silhouette of one of the aircraft and immediately started shouting at the top of their lungs.

"F-22!!!"

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