Chapter 795: Chameleon

Landing on the highway is far more dangerous than on a dedicated airport runway, but Lin Mo had done road landings before. Fortunately, the vertical takeoff and landing capability of the “monstrous” jet allowed it to handle most complex terrains, so he suspected that the higher-ups were overly worried.

After receiving the documents, Lin Mo studied the photos carefully to memorize the appearance and contact method of the intelligence personnel.

Nearby, a fuel truck started refueling at full speed, and the wings were equipped with two external fuel tanks, enough for the fighter jet to fly back and forth at full speed.

The ground crew loaded four air-to-air missiles into the aircraft’s internal weapon bay. Even though this was a mission to pick someone up rather than engage in combat, having weaponry onboard was still necessary.

The expenses for fuel and ammunition were covered by the General Staff’s intelligence department, and Lin Mo intentionally left the tanks not fully filled, seizing the chance to fill up the tanks for himself.

In the cockpit, a pressure suit resembling a spacesuit was securely strapped down with a seatbelt. This was for the intelligence personnel’s safety, offering better overload protection than the "Dragon General" outfit Lin Mo wore at the moment, though it lacked defense capabilities and digital combat capabilities.

While the ground crew busily worked, Major Deng Xiang walked around the variable wings fighter jet and soon frowned, addressing Lin Mo, who was still recalling the contact method. “Can we change the paint scheme? The silver-gray paint is too conspicuous.”

During his final checks, Major Deng Xiang noticed what seemed to be a minor issue but one that could not be overlooked.

“Oh? Really?”

Lin Mo looked up at his aircraft. The silver-gray paint was quite common and provided some camouflage during daytime flights, especially above the clouds, but Deng Xiang was right; the silver-gray was indeed very noticeable under the ground lights at night.

Lin Mo retrieved his remote control key, pressed a button, and the signal light at the top of the fighter jet flashed.

Major Deng Xiang’s eyes widened in shock. The surface of the X-8 “monstrous” fighter jet, originally silver-gray, seemed to shed its skin, transitioning first to green camouflage. What was happening?

“Oops! No, not this!” Lin Mo pouted and pressed another button, changing it to yellow camouflage.

That didn’t work either; he pressed again, and now it became black camouflage, which was getting closer. One more press transformed it to pure black, making it appear as if it wore a stealthy night suit. The “monstrous” jet exuded an air of mystery.

The ground crew, busy with refueling and loading munitions, looked up in surprise, only to see the aircraft’s paint change completely. With a startled exclamation, their eyes went wide. How had it gone from silver-gray to black so quickly? Were they imagining things?

The ground crew exchanged bewildered glances, completely dumbfounded by what had just happened.

“Color change?”

Major Deng Xiang’s expression shifted slightly; he had just witnessed the fighter jet seemingly change colors like a chameleon.

Lin Mo casually explained, “Oh! Just a little feature, a small trick!”

Unintentionally triggering the repulsion shield beforehand, Lin Mo had long intended to add this flexible optical electronic ink coating to the “monstrous” jet.

However, at supersonic speeds, even perfectly smooth surfaces would suffer severe damage from the heat generated by friction with the air. Especially when breaking the heat barrier (2.5 Mach), temperatures on the surface could literally cook a steak, instantly destroying the delicate optical electronic ink material.

With the repulsion shield blocking surface friction, the flexible electronic ink coating could remain in a stable airflow environment, protecting it from extreme temperatures.

This technology was not exclusive to China; various countries worldwide researched and produced similar systems, although they were rarely applied to aviation.

After completing the adjustments to integrate the repulsion shield into the aircraft, Lin Mo swiftly applied this optical stealth technology to the fighter jet.

Electronic ink is a non-emissive technology; while it can only display 1,024 colors, for fighter jet camouflage, it’s more than adequate.

Moreover, it only consumes electrical energy when changing colors; in a static state, it uses none at all. Even with a large surface area, it wouldn’t consume excessive power, thanks to the use of aerospace-grade special materials, lightweight and thin, perfectly adhering to the aircraft’s surface without adding much weight or affecting its aerodynamic properties.

Lin Mo casually displayed this feature, decisively impressing Major Deng Xiang.

Wow, this is a real stealth fighter! What about those guys who only rely on electromagnetic invisibility?

No wonder the General Staff personally requested him as support; Major Deng Xiang suddenly felt a highly boosted confidence.

After about an hour of busy work, the ground crew completed all their tasks. Meanwhile, two Eight Robins descended from the sky to change shifts, and the pilots on the fighter jets looked on from a distance, only able to vaguely make out a shadow in the dim light.

Due to regulations, they were restricted from getting close, and only when Lin Mo leaped back into the fighter jet to start the engine did he regretfully watch the mysterious aircraft thunder down the runway and soar into the sky.

“Altitude 50 meters! Heading northeast at 37 degrees, speed 3 Mach.”

Lin Mo still turned off the identification signal but communicated with the intelligence department’s action team via satellites in space to confirm his position.

Since this was a true infiltration mission, he needed to deceive even his own people. Not even the Air Traffic Control Bureau knew about this flight, and all the flight routes were classified, meaning there would be no records left behind.

Given the importance of the situation, even if the Japanese military shot down Lin Mo and his fighter jet, the Chinese Government would absolutely deny the operation ever happened, and would not send armed personnel for rescue.

If anything went wrong, Lin Mo could only hope for the best—not for him, but for the Japanese.

The boundary between the ocean and land seemed like two separate worlds, as the fighter jet burst out of a valley along the coast, diving into the vast East China Sea.

The action team provided Lin Mo with a route that avoided any vessel traffic, utilizing the Earth’s curvature as a natural shield. Flying just above sea level allowed him to evade almost all air defense monitoring systems.

“Altitude 15 meters, wave heights of grade three!”

The ocean roared, and the dim light posed extreme danger, but Lin Mo reported with calm assurance, as if he was completely accustomed to the situation.

Indeed, the Dragon Knight was never concerned about weather conditions. His powerful giant dragon steed ignored any adverse weather, striking despite strong winds and heavy rain.

Even in the absence of severe weather changes, the vast ocean remained calm, as a lack of wind meant no threat. As the fighter jet cut through the air, the violent airflow cleaved through the waves like a sharp sword. To Lin Mo and his aircraft, these minor disturbances were merely a drizzle.

A figure moved quickly through the woods, breathing heavily, advancing clumsily. Though exhausted, he dared not stop to rest, knowing that delaying even a minute could mean a fate he couldn’t escape.

He felt the titanium alloy pendant hanging from his chest, a small high-capacity storage chip the size of a finger joint. The slight bump confirmed it was still there.

As long as this item did not fall into Japanese hands, his life would be worth something, and he would still have a chance to get it out.

It had been three days; he was nearly at his limit.

He had been fleeing for three days and nights, without a chance to close his eyes, his energy and strength on the brink of collapse.

Twenty-two years had passed, and Miyazawa Mu had nearly forgotten whether his last name was Miyazawa or just Mu.

One day twenty-two years ago, his captain, “Butterfly,” told the barely twenty-year-old Miyazawa Mu that he would be secretly dispatched to Japan for a long-term infiltration mission, living under a new identity and bidding farewell to his life of twenty years.

His original file had been completely destroyed, and even the records of his biological parents had been altered to reflect the life of someone he had never seen or met, making it impossible for relatives and friends to recognize him. It was as if he was always meant to be Japanese, and his past as a Chinese was just a fleeting dream.

The awkwardness of speaking Japanese gradually replaced his use of Chinese, until he finally became fluent in the language of this island nation.

As a submarine drew closer to the Japanese mainland, he donned a diving suit and secretly disembarked, retrieving his belongings from the designated area. From that moment onward, he lived like a local Japanese.

Watching AVs, enjoying various cosplay events, making new friends, and mingling with young Japanese people in bars and karaoke, he let loose his youthful energy until he received the notification for enlisting in the Self-Defense Forces.

He knew he was not the only one to secretly land in Japan. Many other intelligence personnel infiltrated quietly each year, integrating seamlessly into this country. Yet, Miyazawa Mu could never distinguish who among them were his comrades and who were genuine Japanese people, carefully guarding his secret.

He had patiently served in the Self-Defense Forces, waiting for the right moment until one day, the owner of his favorite noodle shop, while wiping down the counter that could only serve five or six customers, lowered his head and spoke the coded message. At that moment, Miyazawa suddenly realized his own people were right beside him.

By then, he had already established roots in Japan for almost twenty years. He had nearly forgotten his identity as a Chinese, and the suppressed memories were suddenly reignited.

The mission had begun, and though it carried tremendous danger, Miyazawa Mu had no regrets.