5:00 AM, August 12th. Four task forces consisting of twelve aircraft carriers from the Republic of Japan, having departed from the direction of the Azores, arrived at a position 400 kilometers off the coast of South Carolina and continued their approach.

Previously, Chinese submarine units had conducted intelligence gathering near the U.S. East Coast and found no signs of the U.S. fleet. According to domestic intelligence from the U.S., the main strength of the U.S. Navy was still in the Pacific, with the remaining vessels either patrolling the Caribbean or the northern reaches of the East Coast.

The U.S. military had not completely discounted the possibility of a Chinese attack on Florida, but Florida lacked major industrial centers, and with China having already landed in North America, the political significance of an attack there was minimal. Thus, the maritime defenses off South Carolina and Florida were currently in a brief window of vulnerability.

The Japanese carrier task forces were entirely composed of Chinese-made carriers or those built to Chinese design standards. The Chinese pilots and deck crews already on the flight decks felt no disorientation; everything was identical to operations on Chinese carriers.

As they drew closer to the U.S. coast, the flight squadrons received their final mobilization: "This time, we must proceed with the resolve to sacrifice our lives for the cause. We are launching an assault on the U.S. nuclear weapons base at Oak Ridge.

"As we said before, this operation is not just for the Chinese people, but for the American people as well. Everyone here is a comrade whose political standing has been verified. Therefore, we believe you will complete this mission with the highest sense of political responsibility."

The pilots' expressions were not nervous. Besides being veterans with hundreds of sorties under their belts, as the political commissar said, they fully understood the political significance of the mission.

They had previously watched numerous documentaries on nuclear weapons. Aside from the magnificent scenes of the explosions, the range and power of the resulting destruction had given them a full understanding of the weapon's terrifying lethality.

By destroying America's nuclear R&D base, the U.S. would be unable to use nuclear weapons against China, and China would not have to retaliate in kind. This would keep the intensity of the war under control.

If China were forced to retaliate with nuclear weapons, major American cities and tens of millions of people could be reduced to ash. Only party members with a high sense of responsibility could truly accept such a mission of salvation rather than destruction.

"From the takeoff point to Oak Ridge, Tennessee, is roughly 900 kilometers. Our fighters will all carry external drop tanks, giving them a range of 3,000 kilometers. Comrades, do not linger in combat; return as quickly as possible!" The commissar did not provide long-winded exhortations. Everything that needed to be said had been said; the rest depended on the valor of the pilots themselves.

At 7:00 AM, the task forces reached their planned launch point, 280 kilometers from South Carolina. In the morning sun, half of the 360 jet fighters—180 planes—took off in succession, while all 180 J-9 advanced trainers took to the air, heading northwest.

From the bridge of the flagship, Admiral Tamon Yamaguchi of the Japanese Navy witnessed the entire process of the jets roaring off the deck. Watching the fighter formations vanish as small dots on the horizon, Yamaguchi said with regret to the Naval Aviation commander beside him, Rear Admiral Mitsuo Fuchida: "Fuchida-kun, the Chinese have an old saying: 'When the cunning rabbit is dead, the hound is cooked.' I do not believe He-kun will purge Japan, but our war may well end after this operation."

Rear Admiral Fuchida had participated in a series of Pacific naval battles, flying over 600 sorties in total—including over 400 during the Hawaii campaign. Hearing this, despite his own regrets, Fuchida replied: "Yamaguchi-kun, peace is a very good thing. You know, after the Hawaii campaign, I personally delivered the death notices to the families of all my subordinates. I do not wish to hear the crying of those families a second time in my life."

Admiral Yamaguchi frowned at this, his gaze becoming complex. He had hoped to continue building his military record, yet he unexpectedly found himself unable to offer a rebuttal. Finally, he sighed: "Peace... I truly do not understand it..."

The carrier task forces then began to come about. It took half an hour for the carriers in the four massive formations to complete their turn, after which the remaining 180 jets took off to catch up with the lead units.

The speed of jet fighters far exceeded that of propeller aircraft. The 180 jets launched later took only half an hour to close the 400-kilometer gap to about 100 kilometers. At that point, radar detected enemy aircraft signals to the front-left.

Everything proceeded according to plan. The second wave of jets launched an attack on the U.S. fighters that believed they were flanking the rear of the Chinese formation.

Meanwhile, the first wave of Chinese jets had arrived over Oak Ridge. Along the route, every 100 kilometers or so, there were several guidance signals emitted from the ground. Although they didn't know who was guiding them, the pilots felt grateful to these "humanitarian individuals" with a strong sense of responsibility.

Seeing the continuous sprawl of factories, dormitories, and facilities on the desolate landscape, and following the striking prompts on their signal receivers, the Chinese pilots identified their targets. The J-12 was the naval variant, while the J-11 was the army variant. This mission utilized only J-12s; although naval, their combat capability was not inferior to the J-11—only their range was slightly shorter.

At this time, the U.S. Air Force Chief of Staff had just received word that a large Chinese fighter group had entered "South Carolina, which has no strategic targets." The Chief of Staff shuddered and immediately barked: "Order all nearby fighters to scramble! Whether jets or propeller planes, get them all in the air! Destroy that Chinese force at all costs!"

Seeing their commander in such a panic, the staff officers were confused but immediately went to relay the orders. In that brief interval, beads of sweat the size of beans had appeared on the Chief of Staff's forehead, and his shirt was soaked through.

The mid-to-lower levels might not know what was happening, but the Chief of Staff knew very well: while South Carolina had no strategic targets, to its northwest, in eastern Tennessee, lay the Oak Ridge base where the U.S. was secretly developing nuclear weapons. The Chinese military was not the kind of fool to choose targets at random; since they were launching such an all-out raid, their target *must* be Oak Ridge.

Roosevelt's Vice President, Henry Agard Wallace, was currently inside the Oak Ridge base. Alarms were blaring throughout the facility. FBI agents, holding bulletproof briefcases, shielded the Vice President as they ran toward an air-raid shelter.

On the open ground, most technicians and workers were somewhat bewildered. Since the start of construction at Oak Ridge, management had been extremely strict and no attacks had occurred. Thus, they subconsciously believed that as long as they followed orders, they wouldn't be in danger. In this state of mind, many even thought this was a surprise drill.

That changed when the fighter group arriving over Oak Ridge began dropping bombs. The largest building was hit, its wooden roof blown away. Feeling the massive vibrations, the personnel finally realized an attack was underway. Survival instincts immediately overrode the rigid reactions formed by long-term restrictions; they ignored all regulations and fled into dormitories, offices, and any building with a roof.

As the number of people fleeing grew, the Oak Ridge base finally fell into chaos.

China had been unable to obtain a detailed layout of the interior, so they could only start by attacking the largest buildings. However, the largest structure was a warehouse filled with construction materials and raw supplies. The higher-value equipment was in smaller warehouses.

The mission of the first wave of jets was not total destruction; this initial bombing was merely "beating the grass to startle the snake." After dropping their bombs and external fuel tanks, the fighter formation began patrolling the perimeter of the base, somewhat puzzled. According to the plan, the U.S. Air Force should have arrived by now, yet there was no sign of them.

In less than ten minutes, the second group of jets finally came within communication range. Learning that the second wave had annihilated the scrambled U.S. aircraft, the first group immediately began their return journey.

According to plan, the first wave would return to the carriers to refuel and rearm before taking off again to escort the bombers and the second fighter wave during the withdrawal.

In the shelter, Vice President Wallace had calmed down slightly. Besides ordering his secretary to contact President Roosevelt, he used his authority to contact the military, demanding immediate rescue.

Once these tasks were arranged, Wallace's first thought was that there must be a mole within the U.S. government. These moles had conspired with China to launch the air raid while he was visiting.

The more Wallace thought about it, the more convinced he became. As a powerful man of wide experience, he had seen many coincidences. He believed China must have obtained information about Oak Ridge from traitors within the U.S. and launched the attack specifically because he was there today, to maximize their gain. Thus, there were traitors in the White House—high-ranking ones, and likely several.

His face soured as he ran through potential names in his head. His heart was filled with hatred; he thought only of returning to the White House and dragging the moles out! He would make them wish they were dead!

Before he could name a suspect, the shelter shuddered violently. Nervous FBI agents again surrounded Wallace to protect him. He no longer had the mind to consider moles; the successive explosions were becoming louder and louder. Although the shelter was sealed, the walls and ceiling trembled, and dust cascaded down. Wallace began to fear China had sent heavy bombers; if so, even the shelter might not hold.

On the ground, the J-9 advanced trainers each carried their maximum load of five bombs. Since the J-9 had a range of nearly 4,000 kilometers, bombs were also carried under the wings, while the largest bomb under the fuselage was a thermobaric weapon (FAE). Once the FAE was used, the plane had to pull up; before that, the other bombs had to be released.

Lacking an internal map, every building with a roof received at least one bomb. The J-9's stall speed was less than 150 km/h; while that's fast for a ground vehicle, for a pilot, it's like a leisurely stroll.

Propeller planes could also fly very low, making the bombing even more precise. Those technicians and workers who had fled to open ground were relatively safe; the purpose of this raid was to destroy production equipment, not personnel. Thus, they were not directly targeted.

Those hiding under buildings were not so lucky—especially those in dormitories, dining halls, and laundries. The roofs of these buildings were only made of wooden planks; the bombs punched through and exploded inside. These buildings contained much wooden furniture; the flying shrapnel and wooden splinters had similar lethality, and the splinters were more numerous. Many unlucky souls were riddled with various fragments but didn't die immediately, left to scream and struggle in pools of blood.

Compared to ordinary technicians, the scientists fared much better. The U.S. government had naturally dug specialized air-raid shelters for them, reaching depths of about ten meters, fully enclosed with thick walls.

The Manhattan Project involved a vast number of scientists. In many technical departments, the number of PhDs was more than double that of ordinary employees.

It had taken considerable time to get these hundreds of people into the shelters. Although the Chinese Air Force didn't know this, they had finished dropping their ordinary bombs and had identified the most reinforced buildings. After all, a standard building hit by a bomb exploded outward from within, making it easy to distinguish.

Then, following their standard training, the 180 J-9s rapidly reformed their ranks and pulled up. From the perspective of the escorting fighters, these planes looked like elegant pelicans climbing straight toward the sky. They then formed a neat formation and released their largest bombs toward the ground.

True men never look back at the explosion, for they might be caught in it themselves. Having completed the final bombing, all Chinese aircraft turned and fled. Just as they reached an altitude of 5,000 meters, the shockwaves from below reached the planes, causing every aircraft in the group to tremble.

Some looked back, but below 5,000 meters, the clouds were thick; they could only see red light flickering through thin patches in the cloud layer, with the ground entirely obscured.

The group continued to climb, reaching nearly 10,000 meters. With plenty of fuel, this altitude was no problem. More importantly, it allowed them to better handle any approaching enemy aircraft.

But no enemy aircraft appeared. Maintaining a neat formation, the group flew back toward the sea. Guided by the carrier task forces' radio, the aircraft moved with the carriers to leave the waters where they might be attacked.

It wasn't that the U.S. Air Force hadn't considered pursuit, but after taking off, they received a sudden order from command to patrol the coastline to guard against a new wave of Chinese attacks. This order gave the Chinese force the chance to exit the battlefield from a high altitude. By the time the U.S. Air Staff realized the Chinese were withdrawing, they could only pursue, not intercept. Although the window of opportunity was only half an hour, the Chinese force hit it perfectly and left U.S. airspace.

America's elite naval combat forces were all on the West Coast, and even the elite units that hadn't been moved were transferred there because of the massive Chinese attacks in the Western U.S. As a result, the East Coast was left with a large number of inexperienced fighter groups.

At 10:00 AM, the aircraft began landing. Once they were confirmed to be in relatively safe territory, Admiral Tamon Yamaguchi, seeing that all aircraft had returned without a single loss, sighed to Rear Admiral Fuchida: "Fuchida-kun, do you believe in destiny?"

Rear Admiral Fuchida was deeply moved. He looked toward the east, in the direction of the Chinese capital, before replying: "This offensive plan was issued by He-kun. I once thought it a massive gamble, yet in these 30 years, He-kun's martial luck has always flourished. But I do not believe this is accidental."

Seeing that Fuchida's thinking hadn't quite caught up with his own, Yamaguchi felt he had to elaborate: "As early as 30 years ago, during He-kun's time at the Army War College, teachers and classmates saw him as a scholar-type talent. But I believe his command ability is not inferior to his academic ability. It is just that He-kun has always been too lazy to spend effort on such matters.

"He-kun's victory today is not a victory of tactics, but of strategy. Sun Tzu said that those skilled in war master others and are not mastered by them. But to manipulate an opponent, one must make them automatically choose the decision most favorable to *you*. Before the opponent makes their choice, they are destined to lose thoroughly.

"Fuchida-kun, what I am saying is that for a man like He-kun to descend upon this world, it can only be destiny (天意)."

Fuchida thought for a while before understanding: Yamaguchi didn't mean that He Rui's thorough victory was favored by destiny, but that He Rui *himself* was the person destiny had sent. Thinking of this, Fuchida felt a pang of shame and hurriedly bowed. "My apologies, Yamaguchi-kun; I failed to grasp your vision. A man like He-kun could only appear under destiny."

Despite Fuchida's apology, Yamaguchi remained melancholy. He watched the deck crews running across the carrier and the pilots coming out of their cockpits, high-fiving in celebration. He watched for a long time before speaking again.

"I am but a mortal man; I cannot bear a great mission. For a mortal like me, to throw myself into war and survive is the greatest happiness I can achieve. Therefore, Fuchida-kun, you were right: all I can do is protect Japan, so that Japanese families can live happily and not suffer the pain of losing loved ones. This is what I, as a mortal, can do."

Fuchida never expected a man as intense as Yamaguchi to accept fate. But on second thought, now that He Rui had descended upon the world, all mortals—whether his subordinates or his enemies—were but chess pieces of destiny.

This operation had been meticulously planned and accurately executed, yet before departure, the high command knew everyone involved might die and the fleet could be wiped out. To return unscathed without a single casualty was luck, not destiny.

Destiny favored He Rui, not anyone else. If one believed their survival was due to destiny's favor, they would eventually die because of that thought. Realizing this, Fuchida suddenly felt a desire to retire. Since He Rui wanted Japan out of the war, this gave Fuchida the chance to live safely to an old age.

Just as his mood relaxed, another thought occurred to him: if it was destiny that Japan exit the war, would Japan suffer severe punishment from heaven if it defied this destiny and tried to obtain interests through war in the future?

Fuchida did not voice this view but said to Yamaguchi: "Sir, I will go gather the Japanese pilots for a meeting. Standing on the deck like that is too impolite!"

"Go on," Yamaguchi replied listlessly.

The Japanese carrier task forces retreated south at maximum speed. According to He Rui's orders, they were to retreat to Saint Helena and transition to an alert state, providing combat power for potential future operations on the East Coast. At the very least, they were to make the West feel the pressure from the Atlantic.

In Yamaguchi's view, this was a very understandable military arrangement. Even with 20 million troops, the U.S. could not maintain a flawless defense across the entire country. But at this stage, they *had* to try. This inevitably led to inefficient troop movements, thereby reducing the pressure on China's operations on the North American west coast.

If Yamaguchi were the Asian Coalition commander, he would have made the same arrangement.

Thinking of this, Yamaguchi began to doubt himself. Had he been in charge, he surely would have chosen a more radical approach, which would have instead created vulnerabilities in China's military arrangements.

Yamaguchi had to marvel once more at the extraordinary steadfastness of the Son of Destiny. So-called steadfastness was not just about not giving up in the face of setbacks, but also about not going too far when in a dominant position. Such grace and composure were something even Yamaguchi could not achieve.

As an ally of China, Yamaguchi had the space to think at a high level. Vice President Wallace, as an enemy, had just emerged from the air-raid shelter. The scene before his eyes made him wonder if he was seeing things.

Oak Ridge had been filled with buildings—especially the tall watchtowers and wind-monitoring towers. But now, the landscape was empty, with only a few broken structures remaining because they were reinforced concrete.

Wallace was responsible for the Manhattan Project and knew the function of every building. Those few remaining structures were primarily processing facilities; the truly core extraction plants and other processing factories were now almost certainly destroyed. In other words, the Manhattan Project had suffered immense damage. It would take at least six months to even begin rebuilding. If the scientists had suffered major losses, the time could be even longer.

Wallace was in despair; his legs gave way, and he fell to the ground.

At that time, President Roosevelt was with his lover, having a portrait painted. He already had many portraits and photos; he was having another done not out of narcissism, but because he was happy with his lover.

Sitting in his wheelchair, reflecting on unavoidable national issues, Roosevelt saw his secretary hurry over and nervously hand him a paper. Seeing the news of the massive destruction at Oak Ridge, Roosevelt felt his head swell violently, followed by a surge of sharp pain radiating from his brain across his scalp and down to his neck.

"Ah..." Roosevelt let out a cry of agony, clutching his head and doubling over.

His vision went black. Although he could smell his lover's scent as she embraced him, the pain was agonizing. Soon, his heart began to pound violently. Every beat felt like a hammer striking his skull, causing waves of pain. He cried out again, his body twisting.

As the pain began to numb and fade, Roosevelt felt everything around him receding.

At 12:31 PM on August 12, 1943, doctors arrived to check on Roosevelt, but they could only record his time of death as 12:33 PM.

At that same moment, He Rui finished reading an urgent telegram and began to cough uncontrollably. The secretary stood up and moved to leave, but He Rui called him back. "No need to call the doctor."

"Chairman," the secretary pleaded, "the acupuncture doctor recommended by Chairman Li will be here soon. At least try it."

Before He Rui could respond, the door opened and Li Runshi walked in with a smile. "Does the Chairman look down upon the experience of our ancestors?"

He Rui gave a bitter laugh. "I certainly believe in acupuncture. But the ancestors' experience hasn't been updated in so many years; I worry that doctors' understanding of body structure and physiology remains at the level of air-to-air concepts created through second or even third-hand conceptualizing."

Li Runshi replied readily: "Coincidentally, I spoke with this doctor about 'second-hand conceptualizing,' and he agreed wholeheartedly. Chairman, this doctor graduated from a traditional Chinese medicine university and has practiced acupuncture for over a decade. He's also a skilled surgeon in modern medicine. I think he's worth a try."

Faced with Li Runshi's kindness, He Rui had to invite the doctor in. After all, Li Runshi was so busy that it was a burden to have him spend time discussing TCM theory with a physician.

The doctor who entered was around 40, very steady. Even before He Rui, he showed no shock, though his grip was firmer when they shook hands.

Soon, He Rui was lying on a treatment bed, his back covered in needles and heated by lamps. He asked Li Runshi in a muffled voice: "Any progress at the front?"

Li Runshi replied easily: "Lately, many American black units have appeared at the front, and their will to fight is quite unstable. A black regimental-sized unit just surrendered immediately after being surrounded."

"There will be more. Ouch..." He Rui couldn't help but grimace. Once the electric-like tingling subsided, he continued: "Runshi, I'm thinking... once we've captured enough black soldiers, we'll launch a counter-offensive. It would be best to settle a large number of captured black troops in Oregon and have them take charge of everything there, and then we withdraw."

Li Runshi couldn't help but smile. He Rui was no "good man" during wartime; every one of his schemes was designed to maximize the internal contradictions of the enemy.

American blacks had been liberated for 70 years yet still lacked the right to vote. Putting black POWs in charge of Oregon would be seen by whites as an inversion of the natural order—slaves riding on the heads of their masters. Once the Chinese military withdrew, the whites would immediately rush back to "restore order."

Under such a stark contrast, the conflict between white and black Americans would intensify, and their mutual internal distrust would be reinforced many times over.

Li Runshi asked: "Does the Chairman hope to establish several black-majority states?"

"Why not?" He Rui replied, grimacing again. The effectiveness of the acupuncture was yet to be seen, but the intensity of the reaction proved the doctor's skill in locating and needling the points was superb.

When his body felt comfortable again, He Rui continued: "Having black states, black Senators, and black Representatives would be a very healthy development direction for the United States."

Li Runshi didn't echo the sentiment but pondered for a while before asking: "Chairman, do you believe this will facilitate the breakup of the U.S.?"

"Haha, whether there will be a USA and a USB, I don't know. But as long as we push toward 'fairness,' changes will certainly occur." After speaking, He Rui suffered another fit of coughing. But he soon noticed that the coughing was indeed much lighter.

*Could I really live a few more years?* He Rui couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. 州。