The high seas of the Pacific Ocean, about 120 nautical miles from the west coast of Alaska.

A massive aircraft carrier fleet appeared on the vast sea.

On the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln aircraft carrier, fighter jets are frequently taking off and landing.

The command tower on the island was unusually busy with the sounds of telegrams and orders being relayed.

Just 10 minutes ago, Captain Liam received extremely bad news:

The 41st Marine Battalion, which landed first, was ambushed by the Dragon Gang in a gorge near Port Seward.

The following morning, the 9th and 11th Brigades, which were supporting them and had an overwhelming advantage, were suddenly attacked by an unknown force.

Two marine brigades, with at least a few men combined, were wiped out in just half an hour.

Of course, the officers and soldiers of the 41st Battalion, who put up a stubborn resistance, ultimately could not escape the fate of being completely annihilated.

According to images sent back by reconnaissance aircraft, the canyon area was littered with the remains of numerous vehicles and artillery pieces, and the smoke of battle had almost completely dissipated.

But the sight of Marine Corps corpses scattered everywhere was truly horrifying.

Liam was stunned the moment he saw the photos of the battlefield.

To be honest, he was a hardline warmonger within the US military and was already used to the brutal scenes of war.

But this time, for some reason, I had a strong sense of foreboding...

"Does Cheyenne Mountain have any further instructions?"

Liam rubbed his slightly aching temples and asked.

His first mate quickly replied:

"Captain, the orders from above remain unchanged. Our unit is required to maintain a certain distance from the coastline and provide support to the 12th Armored Combined Armor Brigade in southern Alaska when the opportunity arises."

Liam hummed in agreement and pondered for a moment: "Rodev, I don't think 120 nautical miles is safe enough."

First Officer Roger frowned: "Captain, this is already the maximum combat radius that our fighter jets can achieve."

"Flying eastward from this sea area, it is exactly 700 kilometers to the main battlefield in the south. If we deduct the time that the Hornet fighter jet spends in the airspace over the battlefield, this distance is already the limit."

“I understand,” Liam nodded. “But I have a very bad feeling that it will be very dangerous for the fleet to remain here!”

"General, are you... overthinking this?"

Roger's brow furrowed even deeper, and a hint of disdain flashed in his gray-blue eyes:

"Who can threaten us on this sea?"

"The Northern Fleet of the Northern Bear Nation is currently tied down in the North Atlantic by the USS Washington, and no matter how strong the Dragon Gang is, it ultimately lacks a decent navy and air force..."

“Rogerf,” Liam raised his hand to stop the first mate’s rambling, and said, “Don’t forget, there’s still one more person in the Dragon Gang.”

"A single person? Are you talking about the superhuman Lin Dong?" Roger's expression changed. "Isn't he still in Washington? How did he end up in Alaska?"

"Roger, are you really stupid or just pretending?"

Liam sighed softly:

"If Lin Dong is still causing trouble on our mainland, then who is behind this strange incident at Port Seward?"

"You don't naively think this is the work of some hidden unit of the Dragon Gang, do you?"

Captain Liam's words jolted First Officer Roger from his blind optimism.

He thought about Liam's words more deeply and felt that the truth of the matter was most likely what Liam had said.

If Lin Dong arrives in Alaska, and the USS Lincoln carrier strike group participates in the air strikes of the Southern Campaign, then their situation will be extremely dangerous...

"Captain, I think you're right. 120 nautical miles isn't safe enough. We should retreat another 100 nautical miles west, no, preferably 200 nautical miles!"

Roger was quick to understand and immediately grasped the captain's meaning, so he made the suggestion.

"You think it's feasible too? But then we won't be able to support the fighting in the southern theater." Liam nodded in approval.

"Captain, please rest assured that in case of special circumstances, our ship has the right to move to a safe area. I will sign the report submitted to Cheyenne."

"Very good, then execute the order! All air formations are to return to base immediately, and the fleet is to retreat 200 nautical miles to the west!"

"receive!"

......

....................................

Over the ocean.

Lin Dong piloted a stealthy Be-103 seaplane, flying westward at a steady speed.

The aircraft's satellite communication channel has just received the latest intelligence from Skynet.

Chen Jiajun's hacker team, using some unknown method, successfully hacked into the Lincoln's command lines.

The USS Lincoln carrier strike group seems to have sensed some kind of danger and is rapidly retreating westward.

This morning, Lin Dong deliberately ordered Base 1 to mobilize the 2nd Stealth Squadron to support the main battlefield in the south, with the aim of delaying the Lincoln as much as possible.

In fact, he knew very well that as long as he joined the battle, whether it was the southern battlefield or the battle in the canyon, it would end quickly.

The combat mission received by the USS Lincoln was most likely to be to provide air support to the 12th Armored Brigade in the southern theater.

Therefore, Lin Dong abandoned the southern theater of war in which the USS Lincoln was involved, and instead focused on eliminating the newly landed Marine Corps troops.

This would give him enough time to launch a surprise attack on the Lincoln.

But his only concern was whether the commander of the carrier fleet was cautious.

Because if the commander suspects something is amiss in the battle of the canyon, he might scare him away.

As expected, it happened.

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