Special Forces: At the beginning, An Ran pulled him to get his certificate.

Chapter 1539 Borrowing a Passage

The car sped along the road.

The tires rolled over the potholes, causing the car to lurch violently. The scenery outside the window seemed to be fast-forwarding, rushing past at high speed. Wang Yanbing gripped the steering wheel, his foot almost pressing the accelerator into the gas tank.

Chen Jun, sitting in the back seat with his eyes fixed on the road ahead, suddenly spoke:

"A military camp bound for South Vietnam."

The carriage was silent for a second.

Wang Yanbing's hand trembled, and the steering wheel almost slipped. He looked at Chen Jun through the rearview mirror, his expression as varied as if he had swallowed a live frog: "Holy crap... Boss, are we driving to the South Vietnamese army camp?"

His voice rose eight octaves:

"Aren't you afraid of getting kicked out?!"

Chen Jun didn't look at him, his tone as indifferent as if he were saying the weather was nice today:

"Take off using their helicopter. Faster."

"Borrow...borrow a helicopter?!"

Wang Yanbing nearly lost his balance. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white, and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish being pulled ashore.

They had just forced the South Vietnamese president to agree to station troops there, and now they wanted to barge into the military camp to borrow planes.

Is this a loan?

This is robbery, isn't it?!

But the accelerator was not released.

The car continued speeding away.

……

An hour later.

The gates of the South Vietnamese military camp came into view.

The tall guard towers, the barbed wire fence, and the armed sentries standing guard at the entrance—everything looked just like an ordinary military camp. But when two SUVs with unfamiliar license plates sped towards them without slowing down, the sentries' expressions changed instantly.

"Stop the car! Stop the car!"

The sentries raised their guns, aiming at the oncoming convoy. Their voices were sharp and tense, like a flock of startled sparrows. Someone had already pressed the siren, and the piercing wail of the siren echoed over the military camp.

The tires made a screeching sound.

The car stopped in front of the gate.

Chen Jun pushed open the car door and got out.

His steps were steady, neither fast nor slow, as he walked straight toward the sentries whose guns were pointed at him. His gaze swept over their tense faces, his tone as calm as if he were asking for directions on the street:

"Bring out your General Nguyen."

He paused.

"Let's say that General Chen from the Yan Kingdom has come to visit."

The sentries were stunned.

They exchanged glances, their guns still pointed at Chen Jun, but no one dared to pull the trigger. This name—General Chen of Yan Kingdom—had spread throughout the South Vietnamese high command over the past few days. The man who had brought the Western delegation to a standstill in the conference hall, the man whose leaders dared not even look at him, the man whose mere gaze could leave them trembling.

How did he end up here?

What is he doing here?

The alarm is still going off.

A few minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed from deep within the military camp. A man in a general's uniform emerged, followed by a squad of fully armed guards. His face was contorted with anger, an anger like a volcano about to erupt, simmering within him.

He is General Ruan.

The middle-aged officer who was intimidated by a single glance from Chen Jun in the conference hall.

He walked to the front door, his gaze falling on Chen Jun, and was about to speak—

Then he met Chen Jun's eyes.

Those eyes were calm, as calm as a bottomless pool. There was no threat, no anger, not even a trace of expression. But in that instant, General Ruan felt his heart skip a beat.

He remembered something.

He recalled the miserable state of those two Westerners in the conference hall that day. He remembered what the leader later told him: "Don't provoke that Yan general. His hidden identity is a terrifying ghost, a true god of death. If you don't believe me, go and make eye contact with him."

He scoffed at the time.

Ghosts and killing gods are nothing but tricks and deception.

but now……

His anger deflated like a punctured balloon, vanishing completely in an instant. His voice, forced from his throat, was as soft as a cat being held by the scruff of its neck:

"What...what are you going to do?"

He paused, seemingly trying to regain some momentum, but his tone remained soft:

"Our leader agreed to allow your Yan Kingdom troops to be stationed here, but he didn't agree to let you force your way into our military camp, did he..."

Chen Jun looked at him, his tone indifferent:

"I need to borrow your three helicopters."

He paused.

"Take off from your barracks and fly to Indonesia. Get ready immediately."

General Ruan was stunned.

Borrow a helicopter? Take off from the military camp? Fly to Indonesia?

He opened his mouth, wanting to refuse, wanting to say "You're too domineering," wanting to say "I won't agree"—but just as those words reached his lips, he saw a glint of light suddenly flash in Chen Jun's eyes.

Just a little bit.

Like lightning in the night, it flashes by and disappears in an instant.

But General Nguyen's body had already reacted.

His knees buckled, and he felt as if his bones had been removed, almost losing his balance. He instinctively took a half step back, his voice squeezing out from his throat, soft as cotton: "Okay...okay, I promise you..."

He waved his hand, as if shooing away an annoying fly: "Go away, go away... don't come back..."

Chen Jun nodded.

He didn't say anything more. He turned and walked towards the convoy.

Wang Yanbing, He Chenguang, Song Kaifei, Xu Tianlong... everyone stood there stunned, staring at the scene with their eyes wide open.

Is this also possible?

With just a glance, the opposing general lent out three helicopters?

Is this a loan? This is outright robbery! And they robbed the other party so badly they didn't even dare say no!

"What are you standing there for?" Chen Jun's voice came from behind. "Get in the car."

Everyone snapped out of their daze and quickly climbed into the car.

……

Ten minutes later.

Three helicopters slowly rose from the helipad of the South Vietnamese military camp. Their rotors churned the air with a deafening roar, kicking up dust and grass clippings. They adjusted their course in mid-air and then sped off southwest—towards Indonesia.

Soon, they disappeared into the distant horizon.

General Ruan stood at the edge of the tarmac, looking up at the three increasingly smaller black dots, motionless.

The wind ruffled his clothes and tousled his hair. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were filled with complex emotions—anger, frustration, confusion, and a hint of inexplicable fear.

He clenched his fist.

release.

He gripped it tightly again.

Then, he finally spoke, his voice very soft, as if he were talking to himself:

"Chen Jun... what exactly did you do to me?"

He paused, his voice trembling slightly:

"Why do I feel so strange every time I see you...?"

He remembered that moment. He remembered the instant he met those eyes.

The fear that surged through me in that instant was not the fear of death, but something deeper, more primal, and more irresistible. It was like being stared at by a colossal beast awakened from the primordial chaos, like standing on the edge of an abyss looking down, only to find that the abyss is also looking up at you.

He recalled the leader's words.

Don't provoke that Yan Kingdom general. His hidden identity is a terrifying ghost, a true god of death. If you don't believe me, just look him in the eye and you'll see.

He scoffed at the time.

but now……

He believed it.

The wind kept blowing.

General Ruan stood there, gazing at the now empty sky, like a wronged woman who had been abandoned, muttering to herself in a fit of impotent rage.