lcionline Chapter 80 The enemy is at home, not abroad!
Chapter 80 The enemy is at home, not abroad!
Chapter 80 The enemy is at home, not abroad!
The Black House press briefing room.
The lights were brighter than last time, shining directly onto the podium.
Nai Long stood in the center of the spotlight, wearing a dark blue suit and a red tie, with the national flag brooch on his left lapel replaced by a simple gold cross.
He looks to be in his early thirties.
Her skin was firm, her eye bags had disappeared, and her blond hair reflected an almost metallic sheen under the bright light.
Standing in front of the podium, his back was straight and his shoulders were naturally open, without any of the unconscious hunching or stiffness that elderly people often exhibit.
Reporters were sitting in the audience.
Forty-three people, all new faces.
None of those who lost their composure in front of the camera last time are here.
Newcomers sat further back than the designated area, maintaining a distance of at least five meters from the podium.
No one was whispering.
Everyone had their heads down, quickly jotting something down on tablets or notebooks, occasionally glancing up at the podium with wary eyes, as if observing some unpredictable wild animal.
Nailong braced his hands on the edge of the podium and leaned forward.
This pose completely exposes his face to the camera.
"Everyone."
He spoke, his voice amplified by the speakers, echoing throughout the hall.
"Today, we are gathered here not to discuss economic data, nor to explain foreign policy."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience.
"Today, we are talking about trials."
He took a folded piece of paper from his inside suit pocket, unfolded it, and held it up to the camera.
Satellite image.
Temple Square, Salt Lake City, Utah.
The image has been enhanced to clearly show large patches of dark red stains on the ground, as well as piles of black lumps whose shapes are no longer recognizable.
"here."
Milk Dragon pointed to the center of the photo. "Three days ago, three million people died. Not from war, not from plague. They died from betrayal of God."
He put down the photo, opened his arms as if to embrace the entire hall.
"Divine punishment has descended! It's in Utah! Any heretic, anyone who deviates from the true faith, will face the same fate!"
The voice suddenly rose in pitch, with a vibrato that was almost like singing.
"We are the city upon a hill! We are God's chosen people!"
In the audience, a young reporter from the Associated Press trembled slightly, and his pen left a long mark on the paper.
Milk Dragon saw this action.
He turned to the reporter, a wide grin revealing his neat teeth.
Are you scared?
The reporter was stunned, opened his mouth but no sound came out.
"Don't be afraid."
Milk Dragon said, his voice suddenly softening, "As long as you're on the right side."
He turned back to face the podium and placed his hands on it again.
"The Antichrist has come into the world."
This statement is very straightforward, like a weather forecast.
"The final battle at Armageddon, the decisive battle between good and evil, has begun!"
"Not in the Middle East, not in the distant future!"
"Right here, in America's heart!"
He raised his right hand, his index finger pointing to the ground.
"Those traitors who call themselves saints, those thugs entrenched in Michigan, they claim to sit on the Jade Throne."
He paused, letting the word linger in the air for two seconds.
"The Lincoln Memorial. That white marble chair. They wanted to sit there."
"This is blasphemy."
The voice rose again, this time with a clear hint of anger.
"This is the Antichrist's direct attack on the Lord! And we will fight! Right here, in the heart of the nation, we will defeat them!"
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding.
"I hereby lay down—"
He turned around and picked up a document from the side of the podium.
National Religious Security Emergency Law
Turning the page, the first page already had names signed.
"First."
He read aloud, enunciating each word clearly, "All state National Guard units are to be immediately decommissioned and replaced by a unified jihadist force. Command is directly under the Black House, with myself as Supreme Commander."
There were slight gasps from the audience.
The milk dragon didn't stop.
"Secondly, to safeguard resources for jihad, an additional 50% 'faith offering tax' will be levied on individuals and entities with an annual income of over five million US dollars, effective immediately."
"The IRS will work with the FBI and CIA to enforce the law and ensure collection."
He turned the page.
"Third, all overseas troops—I repeat, all!—will be withdrawn within sixty days."
"All military bases worldwide, except for essential intelligence sites, will be closed."
"All weapons, equipment, and production lines en route should be immediately diverted to domestic transport."
Turn the page.
"Fourth, effective immediately, all non-essential international flights, cargo transport, and personnel exchanges are suspended. Border controls are raised to the highest level."
He closed the file.
"These are not suggestions, they are laws. They have been signed and are effective immediately."
The hall was deathly silent.
The only sounds were the low hum of the air conditioning system and the faint, indistinct sounds of protest or cheers coming from afar.
Nailong put down the documents and placed his hands, folded, on the podium.
"Is there a problem?"
He asked, his tone very polite.
In the audience, a middle-aged man from Reuters raised his hand.
Milk Dragon nodded.
"Mr. President,"
The man stood up, trying to keep his voice steady, "The Antichrist and Armageddon you just mentioned, these are concepts from the Book of Revelation."
Are you claiming that the United States is currently in the apocalyptic scenario predicted in the Bible?
Milk Dragon looked at him and nodded.
"Yes."
He said.
The man was stunned, clearly not expecting such direct affirmation.
"Then... then..."
He continued, quickening his pace, "How do you explain the Vatican's criticism of your previous remarks, and the reserved attitude of other mainstream Christian denominations?"
Milk Dragon laughed.
It wasn't a smile, it was a genuine, hearty laugh, his shoulders shaking.
He excitedly opened his arms.
"You asked a very good question."
He finished laughing, wiped his eyes, and said, "But why should I explain?"
pause.
"Where are the miracles manifested? Who received the power? Who is carrying out God's will?"
He raised his right hand, palm up.
Under the light, the skin is smooth, without any age spots or wrinkles.
"The answer is here."
He lowered his hand.
"As for those people who are still arguing while holding old books."
He tilted his head. "They'll understand when they witness divine punishment with their own eyes."
The man slowly sat down and didn't ask any more questions.
Milk Dragon surveyed the entire arena.
"Any more questions?"
silence.
"very good."
He turned and walked to the side of the podium.
Wan Xinru stood there, wearing a dark gray suit, with her hands folded in front of her.
His face wore a standard, precisely curved smile.
As Nailong passed by him, he patted him on the shoulder.
"Go and carry it out."
He said.
"Yes, sir."
Wan Xinru nodded, turned around, and quickly walked towards the side door.
Milk Dragon did not leave immediately.
He stood at the edge of the podium, looking at the reporters below who were still in a daze, for about ten seconds.
Then he raised his right hand and waved it.
It's like saying goodbye, and also like dispersing.
May the Lord bless you.
He said that, then turned and disappeared behind the curtain at the podium.
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