Northern Darfur, inside the underground command center at the "Musician" defense base.
The thick concrete isolates the desert night's severe cold and the sound of the wind. Dim emergency lights barely dispel the darkness in the corners, casting an oppressive dark golden hue over the entire space.
A huge, accurately scaled map of the North Africa local theater is spread across a heavy tabletop made from ammunition boxes, covered densely with colored magnets representing the positions of ally and enemy forces, like a concentrated, soon-to-be-boiling killing sand table.
The cluster of blue magnets representing the GNA forces are densely pressed against the gritty mark representing the border between Libya and Northern Darfur, alarming to the eyes.
Song Heping stands at the head of the sand table, his hands resting on the table's edge, his body slightly leaning forward, resembling a fully drawn bow.
His gaze constantly patrolling the thick line on the map representing the boundary between life and death and the virtual flight path winding from Alexandria Port towards the southern Mediterranean (representing the possible attack route of the F-15I), each move carrying a heavy weight.
"So..."
Suddenly, he spoke.
His voice was not loud, yet carried a strange penetrative power, instantly suppressing the slight discussions and breathing inside the shelter.
"I must stay here."
"Song! I object!"
Ferrari suddenly stood up, and the wooden ammunition box groaned under the weight.
His voice was raised by a few notches, echoing in the confined space, filled with undisguised anxiety, "This is too crazy! It's like suicide! You are the target! The sole, biggest target! The 'Seagull' interception plan... God bless, it sounds like a science fiction novel! If there's even the slightest deviation, if a single fighter jet breaks through the interception, laser-guided bombs will rain down with precision on top of this command post! Vaporizing you along with this sand table! You should go to Khartoum, immediately! Right now! There's a safe house there! You can command remotely just the same..."
"I agree with Ferrari's view."
Henry adjusted the golden rim of his glasses on his nose, standing alongside Ferrari.
"The risks Ferrari mentioned are objectively present, Song. This is not the time for impulsivity. MI6 and Mossad's recent involvement in Libya exceeds the norm. The fragmented signals we've intercepted and cross-verified feedback from informants show not only was an SAS 'chair' team secretly deployed, but more troubling, Mossad's sharpest 'bayonet'—the Alpha group of the Masada action team, has also been confirmed to have entered the country."
He pulled out a summary of intelligence from a tablet, projecting it onto a somewhat blurred screen beside him, displaying several processed satellite photos and vague sketches from informants, depicting a few extremely well-equipped, exceptionally covert teams.
"On their task list, guiding bombing and 'targeted elimination' of you is at least a priority, possibly even more so the latter."
He paused, intensifying his tone, tapping his finger on several scattered red dots representing GNA reconnaissance teams near the border.
"Those GNA reconnaissance teams dithering around the border like fleas are smoke bombs, bait, specifically designed to attract our attention and drain our energy. The real eyes and knives are these professional executioners hidden in the shadows!"
Song Heping's gaze slowly swept over each face inside the shelter, filled with either seriousness, anxiety, or trust.
Hunter held his sniper rifle, like a silent and solid rock, only occasionally blinking his eyes revealing the predator's sharpness...
Jiang Feng toyed with a shiny, sharply-edged old coin between his fingers, the coin flipping between them, reflecting the dim light with each turn, mirroring the calm calculation in his eyes...
White Bear's massive body leaned against the cold concrete wall, arms bulging with muscles, the corners of his mouth hung with a nearly ferocious anticipation, as if he smelled blood like a polar bear...
His wife, Queen, sat on an ammunition box in the corner, her head down, gently cleaning the slide of a Glock 19 silenced pistol with a piece of deer skin, her movements as tender as caressing a lover's skin, emerald eyes occasionally flashing a cold glint beneath lowered eyelids.
He finally let his gaze return to the sand table, onto the glaring red mark representing himself.
He did not pick it up but rather curled a knuckle with an indisputable certainty, tapping lightly on that red mark.
"Tap, tap."
The sound was crisp, echoing in the silent shelter.
"I can only be here."
Song Heping's voice was not loud, yet it felt like a heavy hammer hitting everyone's heart.
"Only this way will they come. Will they come according to the route we 'set' for them."
He raised his eyes, his gaze fierce, seemingly penetrating the thick concrete, seeing those Haftar soldiers outside holding rifles behind simple barracks and sandbag shelters.
"What are Haftar's five thousand men? A sand-built army! A pile of loose sand! Why are they willing to fight with us? Because of money? Yes. Because of weapons? Also yes. But most importantly."
He paused briefly, speaking word by word.
"Because they see me here! With them in the same sandpit, eating the same sand, under the same sky that at any moment could drop bombs and blow them to smithereens! If I run, to them, it's like the flag has fallen! The spirit is gone! These five thousand will turn and run at the first wave of GNA's bombardment, even turn their guns against us for a chance to survive! All our plans will instantly become mirages in the desert!"
He suddenly stood straight, his body taut as a spear, his arm swung like a battle knife, pointing to a town within Libya marked specifically with a red circle on the map—Desert City.
It was once controlled by Haftar's forces, and it was the critical point for advancing north from southern Libya, guarding the throat leading to Libya's interior.
"This time, it's not just defense! Not just knocking out a few arrogant bombers!"
His finger heavily jabbed the mark on Desert City, as if trying to push it deep into the map.
"Once 'Seagull' succeeds, the Ibis's 'Thunder' being clipped is the horn of the Haftar forces' counterattack! It's time to sound the charge!"
His voice suddenly rose, filled with iron and fire's stirring force, "Take it! Nail our outpost into Libyan soil! Then all the way north, driving Sayif and the British into the sea together!"
A scorching battle spirit mixed with the scent of blood and smoke instantly permeated the shelter, even loosening Ferrari's tense expression, with a flame igniting deep in his eyes.
It's the kind of aura that rises when a gambler stakes everything or a beast sniffs freedom and the scent of prey at the trap's edge.
"Hunter! Jiang Feng!"
Song Heping's voice was decisive, like an unsheathed sword.
"Here!"
Two figures instantly stood straight from their positions, like two drawn crossbows ready to fire.
"Take your men, and add a special operations company 'Cobra' platoon, infiltrate through the northwest 'Scorpion Tail' passage. Target area, E7 canyon exit. That's the most likely infiltration corridor chosen by the SAS 'Chair' unit. Nail it down for me, don't let a fly through!"
"Understood! Guarantee not even a sand rat can sneak through!"
Hunter's lips curled into a cold and brutal arc, like crosshairs in a scope.
The coin flicking between Jiang Feng's fingers was suddenly grasped tightly into his palm with a 'snap'.
"White Bear! Queen!"
"Present!"
White Bear's voice rolled like distant thunder, making the air hum.
Queen lifted her head, her emerald eyes locking on the target like a feline predator in the dim light, glinting with a cold, inorganic light.
"You two take the 'Polar Star' platoon, responsible for the southeast 'Hyena' pass. Mossad's 'Alpha' Bayonet unit is ninety percent likely to take that route. Don't let them come within fifty kilometers of the base alive!"
"Perfectly suits me. I've long wanted to meet this legendary special forces unit."
White Bear grinned, revealing teeth as white as ice, his massive frame exuding a bloodthirsty excitement.
The Queen silently and slowly pulled back the slide of her silenced pistol, producing a subtle yet chilling 'click' loading sound, like a poison snake flicking its tongue.
"Henry."
Song Heping turned to the intelligence officer, "Your eyes, keep them dead on MI6 and Mossad, gather all relevant intelligence to the best of your abilities, report to me at any time!"
"Understood."
Henry nodded slightly.
"Dismissed! Everyone to your stations!"
Song Heping suddenly waved his hand, like waving down the attack flag.
At the end, he turned his gaze to Haftar in the corner.
"General, it's time. Have your men load their guns, unsheathe their knives, hug their rifles even when sleeping, you and my company's six thousand mercenaries just wait for Ibis Air Force's F15I to be shot down, immediately cross north over the border, launch a fierce attack on all Sayif's forces assembled at the border!"