Di Mo instantly stood up and said in a low voice: "Let's go." Behind him were Li Hu and White Falcon who followed him outside without demur.
Berthing on the grassy land were a few camouflaged military jets, simultaneously rising towards the sky heading for the Pacific Ocean.
The sky gradually brightened, the sun had not yet rose over the horizon, ephemeral daybreak gone, those skies bluer than the crystallin oceans had brought about a bit of light, a bit of dark, and was an indescribably stunning sight.
Di Mo stared at the image that appeared on the radar and couldn't help but frown. The things inside those twelve carriers should be this shipment's arms, while those six miniature planes that were sans cesse circling the carriers were, unbeknownst to others, the fighter jets that were included in the batch of goods that were supposed to be heading towards the Middle East. Even though it had been repainted, yet how could it escape from his eyes?