7:20, Command node of the central 1515 Armed forces.
Major Qadir roared into the radio, but there was only static noise in the communication channel.
He tried to switch to the backup frequency, but there was no response either.
He knew what had happened—the communication equipment was destroyed, or worse, the communications officer had fled with the equipment.
"Sir, an enemy convoy has been spotted on the east side!" a sentry screamed.
Qadir rushed to the top of the dune, raising his binoculars.
He saw a nightmarish scene: dozens of armed pickups and Hummers were racing towards them in a skirmish line formation, the heavy machine guns on their roofs spitting flames, drawing deadly light trails in the morning light.
Even more frightening was their maneuvering tactics.
They weren't moving in a straight line but were weaving serpentine between dunes, appearing and disappearing.
Each time they appeared, they unleashed a barrage of fire, then swiftly disappeared, only to reappear from another direction.
"Organize the defense!" Qadir shouted, "Bring the anti-tank team over!"
But orders couldn't be transmitted.
The troops were already in disarray.
Some were trying to dig shelters, some were jumping onto trucks preparing to flee, while others simply abandoned their weapons and ran deep into the desert.
The officers drew their pistols trying to maintain order, but panic spread like a plague, discipline crushed by the instinct to survive.
A mortar shell landed near the command point, and shrapnel took down the communications soldier next to Qadir.
The young soldier clutched his abdomen, screaming in agony as his intestines spilled through his fingers.
Qadir lay on the ground, seeing another convoy appear from the west.
This time they launched anti-tank missiles, turning two BTR armored vehicles attempting to organize a counterattack into fireballs.
"Retreat! Everyone, retreat to the northwest!" he finally made a decision.
But the retreat quickly turned into a rout.
7:45, on the outskirts of Tuz Town.
The Persian Holy City Brigade Commander, Naxin, stood in front of the command vehicle, observing the battlefield with a telescope.
His three thousand elite troops hadn't truly launched an assault on Tuz Town.
According to Song Heping's prediction, a direct attack would result in unnecessary casualties, but as long as the feigned attack was convincing enough, they might be able to capture Tuz Town without losing a single soldier.
Naxin was skeptical of this.
Not lose a single soldier?
Capture Tuz Town?
Lately, there were at least two thousand 1515 extremists there.
Would they really surrender and give up the town?
It's like a story from the Arabian Nights!
But he still executed the order.
The T-72 tanks fired live rounds, BM-21 rocket launchers conducted three salvos, and infantry advanced to five hundred meters outside the town under the cover of armored vehicles.
The resistance from the defenders seemed minimal, only scattered gunshots and counterattacks.
This left Naxin puzzled.
No one?
"Sir, Ahmed's central forces have started to collapse," the adjutant suddenly reported, "Mr. Song's troops are in pursuit."
Naxin showed surprise, "How... did he do it? Mr. Song truly is a War God..."
Within the Holy City Brigade, Naxin's admiration for Song Heping was an open secret.
"Should we continue to advance? It's easy to take Tuz Town now."
"No." Naxin shook his head, "Following his plan, we should apply pressure and observe for the time being. If Mr. Song's guess is right..."
He thought of the "not lose a single soldier" judgment.
Although he dared not doubt, he still could not believe it.
If he told his subordinates this, they would surely think he had gone mad too.
"Continue the artillery attacks, keep applying pressure, don't rush the attack, send drones to scout, see what the situation in the town is like."
He paused, then added.
8:00, Fahate direction.
Samir held the satellite phone, "Boss, my troops have reached the designated position! The artillery battalion's twelve D-30 howitzers are in position, and six 120mm mortars are ready! The 1515 defenders are retreating in panic, they believe we're about to launch a full-scale attack!"
"Good," Song Heping's voice came through, "Let the artillery fire three salvos, but aim for no-man's land, just to create a commotion. Remember, don't rush to attack the city, just make enough noise to make those extremists believe you're going to launch a massive offensive."
"Understood!"