Nominal: Hou Liangping blocking the door? He was slapped away!

Two giant turbofan engines roared to life, their scorching exhaust scorching the concrete pavement at the end of the runway until it turned black.

Two J-8 fighter jets with low-visibility paint took off with a wave of heat and cut into the civilian aviation area without any hesitation.

The faint cursor representing UA857 on the radar screen was recklessly fleeing at full speed towards the other side of the ocean.

The two unleashed killing machines sped away without pause, leaving only two strong, blinding orange-red trails in the night sky.

Handong International Airport. Air Traffic Control Tower.

The air pressure in the spacious room was so low it was almost suffocating. The usual incessant beeping of the equipment in the hall was completely gone. The entire room was eerily quiet. Only the static of the large electronic turntable could be heard.

All the controllers' eyes were glued to the big screen.

Fighter jets equipped with actual air combat weapons take off directly during peacetime and non-wartime operations. They then brazenly intrude into international passenger corridors to intercept enemy aircraft.

The homeroom teacher swallowed hard, his saliva dry and bitter. His sweaty hands gripped the microphone.

"Report! This is the air traffic control center at Handong Airport. Do you require us to clear all alternate runways...?"

A harsh, metallic male voice came through the communication channel, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Execute the command."

*Click.* The call was forcibly cut off.

The homeroom teacher slumped limply in the swivel chair, her hands trembling so badly she could barely grip the microphone handle.

We can't afford to offend them; who would dare to make trouble at this critical juncture?

In the enormous airport waiting hall on the first floor, thousands of passengers, forced to remain on the ground, were huddled in front of the row of huge floor-to-ceiling windows, grumbling loudly.

"All the lines are suspended in the middle of the night, what's going on? I'm going to complain!"

The dark, oppressive night sky was sliced ​​into three large sections by two extremely domineering trails of flame. Two objects flashing high-frequency red navigation lights were hurtling past at breakneck speed.

"Holy crap! Look at the sky! Those are fighter jets! That speed is insane!"

The crowd erupted in chaos. Countless phones were raised high, aimed at the night sky outside the windows, and started snapping photos.

In just over ten minutes, the top trending topics on Weibo, the top recommended short videos, and local anonymous gossip forums were all completely dominated by these extremely blurry yet highly impactful short videos.

"Shocking news! Fighter jets suddenly appeared over Handong, with a two-plane formation forcefully crossing the civil aviation corridor."

The replies under the post were scrolling and refreshing like crazy.

30,000 feet above the ground.

United Airlines flight UA857 is gliding into the airflow at its smoothest cruise speed.

The American lead pilot, Richard, was leisurely chewing mint gum, chatting with the portly co-pilot about the strippers at the Houston Weekend Club in extremely vulgar terms.

The red warning indicator light on the aircraft's airborne radar suddenly and inexplicably turned on and remained on.

The piercing, high-frequency alarm sound waves echoed wildly throughout the extremely small and claustrophobic cabin. The red glow covering the center console created an immense sense of oppression.

Richard looked down intently at the radar tracking screen that was emitting a ghostly green light.

Two prominent triangular coordinates representing purely military-equipped aircraft are fluctuating. They are rapidly approaching and closing in from the blind spot behind the passenger plane at an overwhelming speed exceeding Mach 3. The digital distance panel is experiencing exponential regression.

"Oh God! What the hell is that?!" Richard exclaimed in shock.

They didn't give the two old foreign men even the slightest chance to react.

The enormous, streamlined shadow of the gray-black fighter jet had loomed over the poor Boeing 777. The two war machines, products of industrial engineering, positioned themselves on either side in a classic heavily armed aerial escort and control posture. They stood firmly and prominently near the outer edges of the portholes.

The fine beads of cold sweat on Richard's forehead burst forth from his pores.

The two aircraft were so close together that they were almost touching each other.

The multi-barreled anti-aircraft cannons, with their astonishing calibers, were dark and menacing, located directly beneath the front of the fuselage. The heavy, guided air-to-air missiles mounted beneath the load-bearing points on both wings were terrifying. The prominent red circles around the seekers indicated that these weapons were destined to devour people in this area today.

"Damn it! They're carrying live ammunition!" the co-pilot screamed, clutching his head.

"UA857, this is the air traffic control unit of the Chinese People's Liberation Army."

"Your aircraft has seriously and illegally entered the military's high-level red-card airspace."

"Immediately deactivate the automatic yaw. Perform a sharp-angle U-turn and land at the designated apron south of Hantong International Airport!"

This callous and callous announcement, which completely crushed and deprived passengers of their human rights, was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of security oppression. It bombarded the cabin speakers from all directions.

Richard pounded on the commercial airline's licensed transponder as if he'd been electrocuted. "Calling! Calling! This is a compliant United Airlines UA857 large passenger aircraft! We are proceeding exactly as declared and reported for departure! You have no right to obstruct or coerce us!"

Such a pale and weak counterattack and argument only resulted in a more ruthless and merciless verdict.

The chilling bilingual broadcast completely ripped off the mask of hypocrisy. The final death warrant was issued.

"Warning! Forced relocation and reversal order to be executed within a limited time! Failure to comply with the highest combat threshold will result in consequences."

"Our military has directly identified your aircraft as a target of high-risk, hostile armed activities!"

"Immediately authorize full-scale firepower with live-fire heat-guided missiles to shoot down and destroy it!"

"I will never repeat myself! I reiterate, this is not acting!"

"You have three minutes to consider!"

Domineering and brutal. Giving no room to breathe. The true rules of the superior.

Richard, in the main control position, wore a specially made light blue captain's uniform with sweat stains covering his chest and back.

"Captain! We're an American plane! They're just bluffing!" the fat co-pilot warned.

The top-notch aerobatic pilot from China, who had been flying alongside us on the port side, generously provided a hellish and awe-inspiring demonstration.

An expensive fighter jet with an understated paint scheme suddenly and unexpectedly activated its high-speed angle of attack, violently pushed back, pulled up, and flipped over.

The tail end was directly torn out a wide, spiraling white high-pressure gravity cyclone. The entire terrifying, top-pressing, gravity-induced flipping stunt was completed just half a meter in front of the pitifully thick main windshield of the passenger plane.

The lowest layer of metal belly armor was probably no more than fifteen meters from the transparent window frame. Such immense pressure and rapid vacuum extraction caused the several hundred-ton Boeing to enter a state of complete loss of control.

Various debris fell from the ceiling to the floor. The screen was filled with blindingly bright red warning signs for the depressurization system.

"Stop spouting your damn nonsense!" Richard slapped the vice-captain hard across the face.