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

Chapter 1437 A New Attitude

The emergency military meeting in the United States ended in a tense atmosphere. In the oval-shaped operations room, the smoke hadn't completely dissipated, and senior officers silently organized documents, an unspoken sense of frustration permeating the air. The commander-in-chief stood alone before a huge electronic map, staring at the western Pacific region marked as "of particular concern," his brow furrowed into a deep frown.

As planned, he needed to immediately contact the commanders of the member states of the Anti-Yan Alliance to convene an emergency video conference and discuss the next steps. He returned to his desk, where the encrypted red telephone stood out starkly against the dark surface—a line specifically set up for direct communication between the highest leaders of allies, theoretically designed for uninterrupted communication.

He first dialed the defense minister's hotline. Instead of the usual quick answer, he received a long, monotonous busy tone, which lasted for thirty seconds before automatically disconnecting. The commander frowned and then dialed the defense minister's direct line—the same result. Goguryeo, Australia, Canada… he tried the hotlines of six major allies, all of which were strangely unreachable.

“Signal interference?” the commander muttered under his breath, lightly slamming his fist on the oak table. “It must be the work of those damned drone swarms from Yan. Their electronic warfare platforms deployed on the high seas have polluted the entire region’s communications spectrum.”

He pressed the intercom button, his voice tinged with obvious impatience: "Communications department, send someone over immediately to check all encrypted lines. I need to know where the problem lies within five minutes."

Three communications officers rushed to the scene, their testing equipment humming softly. For the next twenty minutes, they conducted a thorough check of the communications system—the hardware was functioning normally, the encryption protocol was intact, and the satellite link signal strength was good. The technical chief finally reported, albeit tentatively, "Your Excellency, all systems have been checked, and no faults have been found. The reason the signal cannot be established… may lie with the receiver."

This answer made the commander's face even more somber. Just then, there was a rapid knocking on the heavy oak door, and the communications officer strode in, holding a newly declassified document. His military boots tapped rhythmically on the floor, and fine beads of sweat were visible on his forehead.

"Commander-in-Chief, the Ministry of Defense has sent a formal letter through the encrypted diplomatic channel." The staff officer's voice was slightly tense as he unfolded the document and read aloud, "'In view of the complexity of the current regional situation and an objective assessment of our national defense capabilities, we have decided to formally withdraw from the anti-Yan State military alliance, effective immediately. Our country has always adhered to the principle of good neighborliness and believes that peaceful dialogue is the best way to resolve disputes. We firmly believe that as close neighbors with Yan State, we should strive for common development rather than confrontation and conflict…'"

"Bullshit!" The commander stood up abruptly, his metal pen snapping in two with a "crack." "Peace-loving? If they truly loved peace, they wouldn't have been the first to sign the joint military exercise agreement three months ago! They're clearly terrified of Yan—two destroyers were surrounded by a swarm of unmanned boats for seventy-two hours, and a frigate was blinded by electronic devices and crashed into a reef. And they've become this cowardly!"

He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the raging anger surging in his chest: "This nation has always been like this, only bowing to the strong. It was like this during the Shogunate era, it was like this after World War II, and it is still like this now! They turn to whoever has the brightest gun."

The staff officer lowered his head, waiting for the commander-in-chief to calm down slightly before cautiously continuing his report: "In addition, the Kingdom of Kongo and the Kingdom of Goguryeo... also sent out essentially identical withdrawal statements around the same time. They both emphasized 'adhering to the path of peaceful development,' 'refusing to participate in any form of military confrontation,' and 'being willing to maintain friendly relations with all neighboring countries'..."

"FUCK—!"

The furious roar almost shook the ceiling chandelier. The commander's face was flushed with rage, and the veins in his neck were clearly visible.

"Useless! A bunch of cowards! Not a single one of them can be relied on in a critical moment!" The doors to the commander's office were all tightly shut, and the sounds of things breaking and angry curses could be heard from inside. The secretariat clerks exchanged uneasy glances and tiptoed down the carpeted corridor.

"Your Excellency, the multinational joint military exercise originally scheduled for early next month... will it proceed as planned? The aircraft carrier battle group has assembled in the designated sea area as scheduled."

"A unilateral military exercise? Without the participation of allies, what's the difference between us displaying military force on Yan's doorstep and provoking suicide? Before we fully understand the true power of Yan's 'asymmetric warfare system,' any rash action is foolish."

He turned around, a cold light rekindling in his eyes: "But this doesn't mean we'll give up. Send formal diplomatic notes to Goguryeo, Japan, and the Peacock Kingdom—the wording must be strong. Tell them that their relationship with the United States isn't a hotel where they can come and go as they please. Let them weigh their options: whether to be a friend with a price to pay, or an isolated enemy."

After finishing his notes, the adjutant hesitated and asked, "What if they insist on withdrawing?"

The commander sneered, walked back to his desk and sat down: "Then let's activate Plan B. I've already prepared the list of economic sanctions: cutting off the supply of key technologies, restricting financial transactions, freezing energy cooperation... I want to see whether Yan is putting more pressure on them or we are. There has never been any free neutrality in this world."

While the American commander-in-chief was venting his anger in his soundproof office at the Pentagon, the delegation of those "treacherous cowards" he spoke of had already quietly arrived at the Yan country's capital international airport.

Dramatically, diplomatic planes from the Kingdom of Peacock, Goguryeo, and Japan landed at almost the same time—not by prior arrangement, but a coincidence resulting from their respective emergency decisions. The three planes, painted with different national flags, taxied into the dedicated parking area in turn, and the boarding stairs arrived at the cabin doors almost simultaneously.

The first to step off the plane was Kentaro Kobayashi, the Special Representative of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He straightened the hem of his dark gray suit and walked down the steps with a solemn expression. Just as he looked up at the airport building, his gaze met that of Singh, the Deputy Foreign Minister of the Republic of China, who had just disembarked from another plane twenty meters away. Both men froze, then quickly looked away, as if they were strangers.

An even more awkward scene unfolded at the corner leading to the VIP passage—Lee Cheol-woo, the First Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs of Goguryeo, was walking in from the side with four entourage members when he bumped into two other groups. All three groups stopped simultaneously, and the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Finally, the three representatives nodded to each other very slightly—the gesture was so small as to be almost imperceptible—and then quickened their pace, heading toward different exits without exchanging a single word.

The official from the Protocol Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, responsible for the reception, reported this "spectacle" in detail to his superiors. The news quickly reached the military headquarters, where Commander Ye, who was reviewing the East China Sea defense report, only uttered two words after hearing it: "Chen Jun."

His adjutant immediately understood the implication: "You mean, you want Director Chen to handle this matter?"

Commander Ye took off his reading glasses and rubbed his temples: "He's the head of the National Strategic Security Bureau. Who else should we ask for this kind of 'post-war psychological support and relationship rebuilding' work? Am I, an old guy who's worn a military uniform my whole life, supposed to talk about friendly cooperation with those people who wanted to conduct exercises in our territorial waters yesterday?"

Thus, this "hot potato" task fell on Chen Jun's shoulders, who had just caught up on four hours of sleep. When he received the call, it was not yet fully light outside the window.

"The representatives from the three countries have been waiting for three hours?" Chen Jun said into the phone while buttoning his shirt. "Tell them to keep waiting. Inform the reception office that they don't need to prepare lunch; they can take care of it themselves."

The liaison officer from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on the other end of the phone hesitated: "Director Chen, wouldn't this... make us seem too..."

“Too what?” Chen Jun interrupted him, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. “A month ago, their warships were conducting ‘freedom of navigation’ operations in our exclusive economic zone. Now that they’ve lost, they think they can be treated with hospitality just by saying a few nice words? Tell them they can wait if they want, or they can buy a plane ticket and go back if they don’t.”

After saying that, he hung up the phone and leisurely washed up, changed his clothes, and even had time to make a strong cup of tea. By the time he got into his car and headed to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs guesthouse, the representatives from the three countries had been sitting in the conference room for the entire morning.

At 1:50 p.m., Chen Jun's black sedan drove into the guesthouse compound. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs' on-site supervisor quickly greeted him: "Director Chen, they are all in the conference room on the second floor. As per your instructions, no refreshments have been provided, only drinking water."

What are the typical emotions associated with a simple, ordinary life?

"She appeared calm on the surface, but you could tell she was anxious. She went to the restroom three times during that period, and each time she stayed in there for a long time."

Chen Jun nodded and headed towards the main building of the guesthouse, but suddenly changed direction at the entrance and walked towards the staff passage on the side: "Tell them that at 2:00 sharp, Kobayashi Kentaro should go to conference room 201 alone. The rest of you continue to wait."

"Then you..."

“I entered through the back door. The surveillance system in conference room 201 was switched to an internal line, and all recordings were turned off except for the recording device worn by Minister Xu.”

"Yes!"

At 2:03 PM, the door to Conference Room 201 was pushed open. When Kentaro Kobayashi, the Special Representative of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, entered the room, only Vice Foreign Minister Hsu Chang-ming was sitting at the head of the long table. But Kobayashi's gaze was immediately drawn to a young man in a security uniform standing to Hsu's right rear—the man stood upright, his gaze calmly fixed on him, and although he was wearing the uniform of an ordinary staff member, he possessed an indescribable aura.

“Minister Xu, thank you very much for arranging this meeting despite your busy schedule.” Kentaro Kobayashi bowed deeply, maintaining the perfect 45-degree angle for a full three seconds before straightening up. “On behalf of my government, I would like to express my sincerest apologies to your country for certain inappropriate actions in regional affairs recently.”

His Chinese was so fluent that you could hardly detect a foreign accent; it was clear he had prepared carefully.

Xu Changming did not respond immediately, but simply gestured for him to sit. After sitting down, Xiao Lin took out a document from his briefcase, but did not open it. Instead, he placed both hands on the table and continued in that almost perfectly polite tone, "We deeply understand that as close neighbors separated only by a strip of water, peaceful coexistence and common development are the only correct path. We are willing to strengthen cooperation with Yan in various fields and become truly good neighbors and good partners."

After saying this, he suddenly stood up again, faced Xu Changming, and bowed even more deeply—this time at nearly sixty degrees, for five seconds: "Regarding some historical issues and recent frictions, we acknowledge that there were misunderstandings and inappropriate actions. Here, we formally request the understanding of the Yan Kingdom."

In a corner of the conference room, two official journalists who had been granted entry quickly snapped photos. The flash illuminated Kentaro Kobayashi's bowing figure. This scene was destined to become tomorrow's international headline—it was the first time since the end of World War II that a high-ranking Japanese government official had publicly offered such a profound apology to the Chinese government.

Chen Jun, standing slightly behind and to the side of Minister Xu, noticed a slight shift in his gaze. He could, of course, see that this "bowing diplomacy" was a tactic commonly used by the common people—using the most elaborate forms of etiquette to alleviate substantive pressure. But he had to admit that this time, the other party had done it more thoroughly and impeccably than ever before.

Xu Changming didn't respond immediately, but instead slightly turned his head, glancing in Chen Jun's direction out of the corner of his eye. This movement was extremely subtle, but Chen Jun noticed it—he was waiting for instructions.

Chen Jun's right hand twitched slightly at his side—his index and middle fingers joined together, pointing downwards. This was one of their pre-arranged signals: a formal apology was acceptable, but a substantive commitment was required.