Chapter Seven: The American Soldier

A distant roar of airplane engines echoed through the sky, gradually intensifying as it approached.

“Is that a plane?”

“Damn it, it must be those news helicopters again. I swear I’m lodging a complaint this time!”

“Don’t be so hasty. It doesn’t sound like a helicopter—it’s more like a large passenger jet, flying low. But why can’t we see it?”

People strolling along the street lifted their heads, searching the skies above.

High in the air, at around eight thousand meters, a military transport plane emblazoned with Allied insignia suddenly emerged from the clouds. The cargo bay door swung open, and a fully armed soldier leaped out, free-falling for several moments before his parachute blossomed. He drifted gently toward Gao Ning’s house.

The transport plane, its mission complete, slipped back into the clouds and vanished in the blink of an eye. Even as the sound faded away, those below found no trace of its passage.

“That’s odd—the sound’s gone!”

“Maybe it flew past?”

“Perhaps it was just a temporary sighting or something. You know, things have been unsettled lately. I heard there’s some Freedom Fighters Alliance stirring up trouble with the government.”

“I can’t stand those white supremacists!”

With no sign of the expected plane, the crowd quickly lost interest and moved on to other topics.

Yet the enormous parachute floated plainly in the sky, unseen by any of them, as if they were all blind to its presence.

Having confirmed the drop zone, Gao Ning waited. He, too, heard the roar of the engines. Peering through the window, he could clearly see the massive transport silhouetted against the dark night sky.

It resembled World War II Allied aircraft, yet with subtle differences.

Despite the eight-thousand-meter distance and the dim lighting, Gao Ning could miraculously discern every detail of the plane, even the serial number on the tail—like observing fine lines on a palm.

The parachutist, too, descended slowly under Gao Ning’s watchful gaze, landing directly in front of him.

Yes, directly in front—so precise was the location.

Standing on the eaves outside the window, the soldier was fully armed, his expression resolute.

He saluted crisply, shouting through the glass, “Reporting, Commander! Unit MGDB001 reporting for duty. Awaiting orders!”

—

“Uh…” Gao Ning was stunned for several seconds. “At ease—no need to be so tense. Come inside, we’ll talk.”

Was the summoned American soldier actually a real person? That would be interesting…

“Yes, sir!”

The soldier responded loudly, clambering into the room with hands and feet.

Gao Ning nearly jumped out of his skin. “Keep it down! Keep it down! This isn’t a barracks—there’s no need to bellow. What if my mother hears you? How would I explain?”

“Sir, you need not worry! According to the Allied Paratrooper Support Act, for fifteen minutes after landing, paratroopers remain concealed.

During this period, we are invisible and inaudible to the outside world. Loud talking, or even a street performance, would go completely unnoticed.

Of course, restricted by the laws of space and time, during this window we cannot initiate attacks or touch anything.”

“What do you mean, laws of space and time?” Gao Ning muttered under his breath. But then he thought, after experiencing something as fantastical as crossing worlds, and with a Red Alert paratrooper cheat in his mind, what else could possibly surprise him?

Laws of space and time, then, so be it.

Seeing the soldier standing at attention in front of him, Gao Ning said, “Relax a bit. It’s rest time now. Take a seat—let’s talk.”

“Yes, sir!” The soldier replied, sitting rigidly on the bed.

Gao Ning observed him, nodding to himself.

He was indeed bound by some strange law—like a ghost, he could not be seen, heard, or affect physical objects during this time.

The mattress was soft, and even a little weight should sink it, yet the fully armed soldier sat there without leaving so much as a dent.

He truly had fifteen minutes of ghost-time.

At first glance, this ability seemed odd, but on the battlefield, it offered immeasurable advantages.

With fifteen minutes of invisibility, paratroopers could quickly form up, find cover, gather intelligence, and join the fight as soon as possible.

In Gao Ning’s hands, these suddenly appearing American soldiers had a clever explanation!

“What’s your name?”

“Reporting, sir! My designation is MGDB001, a standard combat-type bio-soldier.”

—

Gao Ning was surprised. “You’re a bio-soldier?”

“That’s correct,” the soldier nodded. “Standard naval-marine bio-soldier, equipped with two magazines, standard ammunition, enhanced loadout, medical kit, and standard supply pack—suitable for most battlefields.

I can sustain combat for seventy-two hours without external energy supply.”

“So you need to recharge?” Gao Ning scratched his head.

“Reporting, sir! My body contains alcohol energy conversion enzymes. In 0.3 seconds, I can convert one kilogram of alcohol energy into universal energy, stored internally. This energy supports seventy-two hours of high-intensity combat or two weeks in standby mode.”

Gao Ning’s jaw nearly dropped. “So you don’t eat, you just drink?”

“That’s one way to put it. However, the alcohol concentration must be high—ideally high-purity alcohol energy packs, or one hundred percent industrial alcohol. But the conversion rate is only one-third,” the soldier replied solemnly.

Gao Ming shook his head. “No wonder you carry supply packs! All right, I’ll figure out your energy needs. If nothing else, we’ll make do with vodka.”

As he spoke, a strange image played out in his mind.

A smoky crossroads, a gang of robbers occupying a bank, holding hostages and preparing to rush out. Bullets flying everywhere, sparks spraying.

On the other side, American soldiers hunkered behind sandbags, firing machine guns with one hand and guzzling from oversized bottles of liquor with the other.

…

“Well, drinking it is, then!” he sighed.

The American soldier being a bio-soldier was unexpected, but, on reflection, made sense.

In the game, aren’t American soldiers expendable? Spend two hundred bucks and one pops out of the barracks.

Yuri’s faction is even more outrageous—one hundred bucks gets you two.

The Clone Center sits openly, proclaiming its purpose.

All in all, Gao Ning was satisfied.

Clone rebellions are common in movies, but bio-soldiers are rare.

Moreover, they drink but don’t eat, and their combat prowess is exceptional. Truly worthy of being the main Allied unit—efficient and reliable.