funbook-pk Chapter 82: Declaring War on Detroit!
Chapter 82: Declaring War on Detroit!
Chapter 82: Declaring War on Detroit!
Hegang Town Square.
The wooden platform was reinforced using scaffolding steel pipes and military-grade waterproof tarpaulins that were brought back from a National Guard camp.
There were more people standing in the audience than last time.
It looks like it's over 30,000.
It's not just those who originally had guns.
Families who had walked or driven all the way from Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky, with men and women wearing overalls and children being held in arms or led by the hand.
There were unemployed local Detroit workers wearing faded factory uniforms.
There were also dozens of veterans in old military uniforms, ranging in age from sixty to eighty, standing at the front of the crowd with their backs ramrod straight.
Everyone looked up at the wooden platform.
Carl Jensen stood on the stage.
He wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest; instead, he had changed into a clean olive green field shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He held the polished cross pendant in his right hand, while his left hand hung at his side.
The wind blew across the square, bringing with it the moisture from the lake and the dusty smell of the construction site in the distance.
He spoke, his voice coming through the microphone: "Three days ago, that person in the Black Palace stood in front of the camera and said we were the Antichrist."
pause.
The audience was quiet, with only the sound of the wind.
He said that the chair we were supposed to sit on was blasphemous.
Carl raised his right hand, and the cross swayed briefly in the afternoon sunlight.
He said, "The final battle of Armageddon is here, and we are the evil that should be eradicated."
He lowered his hand and his gaze swept across every face in the audience.
"I'll tell you now—"
The voice rose, but remained steady, as if reading a battle briefing: "That clown standing on the stage, him, and the capitalist families behind him who wear suits and drink human blood, they are the real blasphemers."
"They are the Antichrist."
A brief silence.
Then a shout rang out from the crowd: "That's right!"
The second and third sounds quickly blended together.
It wasn't a neat chant, but a roar mixed with anger and approval.
Karl and the others paused briefly.
"The path to redemption is there."
He raised his left arm and pointed south, towards Washington.
"The Battle of Armageddon is right there."
The arm moved, pointing southeast, towards Detroit.
"To sit on the white jade throne and walk the path of atonement. This is the mission the Lord has given me, and it is also the mission the Lord has given to every truly chosen person."
He withdrew his arms, clasped his hands together in front of him, and the cross pendant dangled between his fingers.
"But now, the Antichrist will block this path."
"They slander us with lies, bind us with laws, and threaten us with the military."
He paused.
"We need strength to win the final battle, and to prevent the blood of blasphemers from staining the eyes of the Lord."
Below the stage, David Miller, standing in the front row, gripped his rifle tightly.
"We need the Holy Treasury."
Carl said, "We need to store food, medicine, and fuel so that every family that follows the Lord will not go hungry when winter comes."
"We need an arsenal."
"We need a place that can manufacture bullets, repair firearms, and even produce armored vehicles."
"We need to ensure that everyone who takes up arms to fight for the Lord has more than just an empty gun."
He took a step forward, his boots making a dull thud on the wooden platform.
"Therefore, I hereby declare!"
The voice boomed across the square: "From this day forward, we will establish a new Canaan."
"Not the old America that was corrupted by capital and shrouded in lies."
"It is a true kingdom belonging to the Lord, on this land that He watches over."
"We must crush the capitalist claws of the Antichrist."
"Take back the land they monopolized, the medicines they inflated, everything they took away!"
He gripped the cross tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Take it all back!"
The roar erupted again.
This time it was even more orderly. "Take it back! Take it back! Take it back!"
Karl raised his left hand, palm down.
The sound stopped.
"The details are as follows."
He took a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it.
"First, the Holy Treasury."
He read aloud, "All families, calculated per capita, shall each pay ten pounds of grain or equivalent goods per month."
"Collected by the team leaders of each district, and stored in the warehouse."
"The warehouse location and key allocation will be announced at tonight's meeting."
"Second, the arsenal."
"The former Ford Auto Parts Factory in Zhenxi has been requisitioned."
"Anyone with experience in mechanics, welding, or electrical work, please report for duty at 8:00 AM tomorrow."
"We need to restore one bullet production line and two gun repair lines within thirty days."
Third, the ranch.
"All abandoned farms outside the town will be reclaimed."
"Those with farming or animal husbandry experience should also report tomorrow; two-legged sheep will be provided."
"We need to stockpile at least three months' worth of meat and vegetables before winter."
He folded the map and put it back in his pocket.
"These are not requests, they are orders. We must be ready before the Battle of Armageddon begins."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience.
"Those who have objections may leave now."
No one moved.
Only the wind blowing across the still-smoking ruins at the edge of the square stirred up a few wisps of ash.
"very good."
Carl nodded.
"Then, the last item."
He turned and picked up another map from the edge of the wooden table. This one was larger; it was a map of the entire Michigan highway network.
He squatted down on the stage, spread out the map, and used several empty magazines to weigh down the four corners.
Then he stood up and placed his right foot on the location of Detroit on the map.
"To sit on the Jade Throne, I must embark on the path of atonement."
He looked up at the audience and said, "We must first have a stable rear. A base where we can produce weapons, store supplies, and train soldiers."
My foot sank into the Detroit area.
"Detroit was once the industrial heart of the United States."
"Now, it is a ruin abandoned by capital, a den of addicts and gangsters, and one of the strongholds of the Antichrist in this state."
He pulled his foot back and stood up straight.
"I hereby declare war on Detroit."
"Objective: Within thirty days, gain complete control of downtown Detroit and the surrounding industrial area. Eliminate all hostile forces and take over factories, warehouses, and ports."
"This battle is codenamed The Crucible."
He looked to the left side of the audience.
"James Jones".
The old colonel stepped forward and stood at attention: "Present!"
"You're in charge of developing the battle plan. You have forty-eight hours."
"Yes."
"David Miller."
The young sniper straightened his back: "Here."
"You're in charge of reconnaissance. I need a map showing the distribution of all armed forces in Detroit, along with their troop strength and equipment lists."
"clear."
"Stephen Taylor."
The man, a KKK member, grinned: "Here."
"You'll be in charge of this special mission. I'll give you the roster later."
"I'd be happy to help."
Carl looked one last time at the sea of people below the stage.
"Everyone else, return to your original units. Starting tomorrow, training intensity will double. We need soldiers, not civilians."
He paused and took a deep breath.
"Undying in a hundred battles".
The four words were pronounced very heavily.
Below the stage, 30,000 people simultaneously chanted: "Invincible!"
The sound struck the surrounding building walls, bounced back, and created a continuous echo.
Carl stood on the stage, watching all of this.
The wind lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a Glock in the holster at his waist.
He unconsciously rubbed the cross pendant in his right hand, the scar on his palm slightly warm under the fabric.
Then he turned around and stepped off the wooden platform.
The speech has ended.
The war has begun.
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