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

Three days later, at 10 a.m.

The dedicated airport for the Handong Military Region.

On both sides of the runway, guards stood every five meters, their faces taut under their helmets, a sliver of sunlight glistening on the tips of their bayonets, stretching from the tarmac all the way to the terminal entrance.

The entire runway was so desolate it was almost unreasonable.

Zhou Weiguo stood in the center of the tarmac, his military uniform buttoned up to the top, his back so straight it could trap a fly. Behind him were all the officers of the military region's staff, from major to rank, not one missing. Three rows to the left, three rows to the right, standing perfectly straight.

The notice only stated that an important leader would be arriving today by special plane, and everyone was on standby.

Which leader? It wasn't mentioned.

But Zhou Weiguo knew.

He didn't sleep a wink last night, polishing every single button on his uniform three times. His shoes were so shiny they could be used as mirrors, and the brim of his military cap was so perfectly straight it could be measured with a ruler.

It's not formalism.

Some people deserve to be greeted with the best military bearing you've ever shown.

An engine growled in the distance.

The sound arrived first, while the plane was still hidden in the clouds. Everyone's gaze simultaneously turned to the northwest horizon.

A gray-green military transport plane emerged from the clouds, with air force markings on both sides of its wings. The parachute drop racks had been specially modified, and an additional communication antenna array had been welded to the underside of the fuselage.

This is not an ordinary transport formation.

The tires scraped the ground, carrying the smell of burning rubber. The plane taxied for over two hundred meters and came to a steady stop in the center of the tarmac. The propeller speed decreased, changing from a sharp whistle to a low hum, and finally came to a complete stop.

The air froze for three seconds.

The hatch opened.

The first person to step out froze the entire tarmac in place.

He wore a pine-green casual outfit with three gold stars on his shoulders.

In the entire active-duty military of China, there are fewer than one hundred people of this rank. Every single one of them who can wear this uniform and stand on the aircraft's gangway is a pillar of China.

The old man was in his early sixties, his hair was gray, and his back was so straight it could be used as a javelin. As he descended the gangway, each step carried the weight forged from decades of military service. His feet landed on the metal steps with a dull, steady thud, just like him—he didn't need to make a show of it; his mere presence was enough.

Zhou Weiguo took the lead, and all the officers on the tarmac stood at attention and saluted at the same time.

More than sixty right hands simultaneously slashed at the brim of their hats, their movements synchronized down to the millisecond level. The crisp sound of the heels of their leather shoes striking each other echoed in a straight line from the front row to the back, clean and crisp.

The general stepped down the last step, stopped, and returned the salute.

His gaze swept across the faces of these officers without lingering.

Then he turned to the side and raised his chin towards the hatch.

The movement was very gentle.

It's so light that you wouldn't notice it unless you were staring at it.

But Zhou Weiguo noticed it.

The general's lips curled into a barely restrained, almost gratified smile.

He had seen that expression before.

That kind of smile only appears when an old soldier hands over his life's work.

The second person appeared at the cabin door.

Heavy.

He wore a pine-green general's uniform, his military cap pulled low, the brim casting a shadow above his brow bone that obscured most of his face. The gold stars on his epaulets shone brightly in the midday sun, swaying with every step he took.

He walked up to Zhou Weiguo. The distance between the two was no more than an arm's length.

"Is everything ready?"

The sound wasn't loud, but each word hit the ground and echoed.

"Reporting to the commander, everything is ready."

Zhou Weiguo's vocal cords were tight. Not from nervousness, but from some emotion he couldn't quite explain that had choked his throat. He'd followed this person for so long, from initial skepticism to unwavering loyalty, and now—

Now, he has watched this person rise step by step to a position that everyone must look up to.

"Walk."

Shen Zhong didn't say anything more.

Three military command vehicles drove out of the airport gate, their wheels rolling over the concrete road, heading straight for the military compound. The general's car followed behind, and the convoy sped along the military compound's dedicated lane in a straight line.

All the sentries along the way saluted and let them pass.

The dispatcher on duty at the dispatch center shouted into the communicator, "Train No. 1 has passed. Clear the entire road."

These words spread throughout the entire Handong Military Region within three minutes.

It was exactly 11:00 AM.

The main drill ground of the Handong Military Region.

The parade ground, which has a capacity of 5,000 people, was packed with over 10,000 people today.

All available combat units from the eastern garrison stationed in Wuhan were concentrated here. Special operations battalions, reconnaissance battalions, armored regiments, communications brigades, and logistics support units—one formation after another, steel helmets, camouflage, and automatic rifles forming an impenetrable iron-colored forest when viewed from the reviewing stand.

More than 10,000 people stood under the sun, not one of them wiping away sweat, and not one of them whispering to each other.

They didn't know why everyone was gathered today.

But soldiers don't need to know why. When the order comes, the soldier is there.

The platform was covered with a red carpet, and in the center was a long table. On the table, on a mahogany tray, lay a document with gold lettering and a bright red seal on the cover.

The general stood behind the table, his hands resting on the edge of the table, and scanned the tens of thousands of people below the stage.

The old man's gaze moved slowly from left to right, then from right to left, inch by inch.

More than 10,000 pairs of eyes were frozen in place by his sweeping gaze.

"Read out the order."

Three words. The voice wasn't loud, but the loudspeaker system on the playground amplified those three words to every corner.

"After organizational review and decision—"

More than 10,000 people held their breath.

Even the wind dared not blow on the parade ground. A few sparrows perched on the rooftops of the distant barracks, now silent, tilting their heads to look this way.

"Comrade Shen Zhong was appointed Political Commissar of the Handong Military Region, and will be in charge of all work of the Handong Military Region."

Quiet.

A deathly silence.

It wasn't because they didn't realize it—quite the opposite, everyone realized it.

In the same second, the minds of more than ten thousand people performed the same calculation: they had heard this name countless times in the past week. Intercepting civil aviation, arresting Ding Yizhen, storming the oil and gas group, detaining Zhao Lichun—each of these events alone was enough to create a crater in Handong.

The people who did these things are now their highest-ranking officials.

Shen Zhong strode forward.

The face beneath the brim of the military cap showed no excitement, no pride, no superfluous expression. He took the documents with both hands, his knuckles steady and unwavering.

The general patted him on the shoulder.

The shot wasn't heavy, but it lingered for a full two seconds.

The old man pressed down on Shen Zhong's shoulder with his five fingers, the pressure was light but the weight was extremely heavy.

Zhou Weiguo stood to the side of the command platform and had a clear view.

That wasn't a commendation, that wasn't encouragement.

That's the kind of action a veteran who's fought his whole life would take when handing over the entire battlefield to a young general.

It means only one thing—go, it's your turn to shoulder the burdens of the world.

Shen Zhong turned around to face the playground.

Tens of thousands of faces and tens of thousands of eyes were all focused on him alone.

He did not speak.

There was no inaugural address, no policy platform, and none of those fancy platitudes.

There are two kinds of people in this world who can silence others without even saying a word. One kind holds the truth, and the other holds military power.

It has both weight and weight.

He raised his right hand, brought his five fingers together, and cleanly and decisively cut to the edge of the hat brim.

Standard military salute.

Neat, composed, and without a single superfluous movement.

The playground was quiet for less than a second.

Then--

The front-line special operations battalion moved first. Thousands of right hands simultaneously drew their rifles from their holsters, raising them vertically above the right shoulder. The sound of metal rubbing against leather blended into a crisp, synchronized clang.

The formations behind followed suit. Reconnaissance battalion, armored regiment, communications brigade, row upon row, the movements passed from front to back, with no more than 0.3 seconds between each row. More than ten thousand steel arms rose simultaneously, and more than ten thousand gun barrels stood upright at the same time.

This is more than 10,000 soldiers using the oldest and most solemn way to tell the person on the stage the same sentence.

"Defend the honor of iron and blood!!!"