Chapter 80 The Killing Order on the Throne
Mo's Building, Strategy Room.
The holographic projection clearly showed the burning wreckage of the cargo ship on the Mekong River, and the black smoke looked like hideous scars.
Mo Xiaohan stood in front of the screen, his voice as calm as the sea before a storm: "Coordinates of the Song family arsenal."
The technician immediately pulled up a 3D map: "In the mountainous area of Luang Prabang, Laos, three floors underground, equipped with a Russian-made air defense system."
Mo Xiaohan's fingertips traced the contour lines on the map and suddenly paused at a hidden canyon. "Oil pipeline?"
"It's a cross-border smuggling route privately built by the Song family." The technician quickly consulted encrypted archival materials and satellite survey maps. "It runs directly from Wa State in Myanmar to Luang Prabang, transporting 200,000 liters of aviation kerosene every day."
Mo Xiaohan marked three blasting points on the map.
"The first team will feint at the main entrance to the arsenal. The second team will blow up the Wa pumping station. The third team—" he pointed his finger at the middle of the pipeline, "set off fireworks here."
The explosion of the aviation kerosene pipeline was powerful enough to send the entire mountain range into the sky.
"As for Victor... Since the Song family's helicopter was shipped from Switzerland," Mo Xiaohan glanced at the route distribution map on the screen and said coldly, "Let the Swiss investigate for themselves how their arms 'accidentally' got mixed up in the drug transport route."
The technician understood and quickly operated the terminal: "I've already filed an anonymous report with Swiss Customs. If Interpol becomes involved in the investigation, Berg will lose at least three routes."
"But the Berg family is deeply rooted in Europe." Artest stared at the information, his tone solemn, "With our current layout in Europe, we can't touch him at all."
Mo Xiaohan tapped the tabletop with his fingertips, and the coldness in his eyes suddenly turned into ice: "He dares to provoke me because I can't touch Europe. But his claws that reach Southeast Asia must be chopped off one by one."
Ruan Xingchen stared at the intertwined spheres of influence on the screen. "The Song family is attracting our main force head-on, while the Naga are taking advantage of the situation and invading from northern Myanmar." She raised her eyebrows slightly, her tone becoming more serious. "This double-pronged attack is intended to catch us off guard."
Mo Xiaohan sneered, his tone as sharp as a knife: "Does he think that this will make me lose sight of the big picture? I have always had the final say in Southeast Asia. The Nagas want to launch a surprise attack in northern Myanmar, so let them taste the backlash."
A military base outside Yangon, Myanmar.
Eighteen-year-old Savika sat on an ammunition box, wiping his dharma knife with blood-stained gauze. The emerald handle of the knife reflected his sharp jawline.
This young officer is the fang sharpened by Mo Xiaohan himself, and controls all the armed forces of the Mo family in Myanmar.
"Mr. Mo urgently calls for you." The adjutant bowed his head and reported.
As the young officer stood up, the hem of his camouflage uniform brushed against a still-warm corpse on the ground. It was a traitor who had attempted to infiltrate the Mohist Burmese Jade Camp. Now, he was nailed to the base's flagpole in a kneeling position, like a bloody statue of penitence.
Savika casually stuffed the blood-stained gauze into the dead man's mouth. This was his habit - to give each prey the final "holy communion".
The sound of a helicopter engine rose above the camp. When Savika boarded the plane, the blood on the soles of his boots left dark red marks on the cabin door.
Four hours later, the fuselage penetrated the twilight of Bangkok and landed on the top floor of the Moshi Building.
Savika knelt on one knee, his boots still caked with the dust of Burma. Mo Xiaohan had his back to him, the silver ring on his left hand reflecting a chilling coldness on the whiskey glass.
"Do you know why you were called here?"
The young officer's eyelashes cast sharp shadows under his eyes. "You are a rat in Emerald Camp. I have failed in my duty."
"It's not a rat." Mo Xiaohan turned around, and a holographic projection unfolded behind him, revealing a bronze snake-shaped badge. "It's a venomous snake."
Savika's pupils suddenly contracted.
He knew that this was the mark of the "Naga" organization, a mysterious force entrenched in northern Myanmar, a hyena that specializes in gnawing on tough bones.
"You go and handle it."
Savika's lips curled slightly, and a cold look flashed across his fangs: "Yes."
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