North of Sena, Rift Valley Corridor.
The night was as thick as ink, saturating the undulating hills and deep gullies.
The wind whistled through the towering cliffs, emitting eerie sounds. The makeshift command post was set deep in a natural cave, damp and chilly, with the dim light from emergency lamps and electronic screens casting Song Heping's chiseled profile like a stone carving.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of dust, sweat, and cheap tobacco, mixed with the metallic scent of gun oil, ammunition, and the rusty tang of tense nerves.
The radio headset crackled with static, like countless poison snakes hissing in the dark.
"Boss."
Collins' hoarse voice came through the headset, "We've been waiting for two days. The bait is enough to attract them. Do you think those John Bulls... will really bite? Have they abandoned the operation?"
"They'll definitely come!" Henry's calm voice quickly followed: "London has increased the communication silence level by three, but the frequency of military satellite scans over the Rift Valley Corridor has surged by 270% in the past six hours. It doesn't look like they're giving up; more like... a final confirmation before a predator pounces."
"Who cares if they come or not!"
White Bear's voice was laced with a neurotic excitement, "The 'Welcome Carpet' I laid can make them dance a tap all night! Linked mines, jump mines, directional fragments... Every inch has a 'surprise'!"
"Shut up!" The Queen's steady female voice rang out, "Southwest direction, Lumar's rabble is on the move! Trucks, pickups, and antiquated armored vehicles—dust can be seen from kilometers away! The big show is about to start!"
In the command post, all eyes instantly focused on Song Heping.
On the electronic sand table, red arrows representing Lumar's armed forces awkwardly jabbed from the southwest toward the blue defense zone.
The cold light of the sand table illuminated his deep, unfathomable eyes.
"Did everyone hear that?"
Song Heping picked up the communicator, his voice cutting through the static noise, calm as a frozen lake: "Lumar's beat has sounded."
His fingers jabbed heavily at the entrance of the rift on the sand table.
"The old lady in London is more ruthless and greedy than that old fox Vincent! The Americans dragging behind will only force her to use a bloody victory to shut everyone's mouth! To prove that the claws of the Great Britain can still tear open the throats of prey!"
He grabbed the main communication microphone, his voice suddenly rising, carrying the power to penetrate rock walls, exploding in the ears of every lurking warrior:
"All units! 'Guests' are on the road! Repeat, 'Guests' are on the road! 'Can Opener' (Sam-6), keep your eyes on the sky! 'Razor' (MiG-23), engine warm-up! 'Hound' (ambush group), fingers off the trigger! Let Vanguard come in! Wait for Lumar's cannon fodder to clear the way, then make your move..."
His voice turned into a harsh roar:
"Follow my command! Seal the pocket! Turn the Rift Valley into a slaughterhouse! Break their backbone! Make the old lady in London weep in the African sun with her shattered imperial dreams! After this battle, I guarantee no one will dare to provoke us in Africa again! Prepare for battle!"
The order activated the dead-silent rift with the force of high-voltage electricity.
The wind carried the clicks of safety catches, the scraping of fingers through hand grenade pins, and the soldiers' heavily suppressed breathing.
The Sam-6 radar screen lit up with ghostly green dots under the camouflage net; at the rear base, the MiG-23 engines issued a low roar from deep within the hangar.
Countless pairs of wolf eyes opened in the dark, locking firmly on the rift entrance.
"Target has entered the pocket, depth two kilometers."
Jiang Feng's voice was as cold as ice.
On the military laptop screen, dense red dots—representing the British SAS troops—advanced skillfully along the dry riverbeds and bushes like deadly vipers, with Lumar's scattered rebels circling like scattered fish.
The drone above had locked firmly onto their movements.
"SAS main force is slightly ahead in the river valley. Air threat emerging—from the south, 4 'Typhoon' aircraft at a distance of 70 kilometers, altitude 8,000 meters, high threat level."
Song Heping braced his hands on the table, sweat running down his temples and evaporated.
The command post was deathly silent, only the electronic sounds and heavy breathing could be heard.
The weakest point was their air advantage.
If the air aspect couldn't be intercepted, all mercenary forces and ISIS's government army currently surrounding Lumar's six brigades in the northern rift area would suffer heavy blows, and the encirclement would inevitably be breached.
If that happened, once Lumar's armored units broke through the defensive circle into the plains, there would be over 300 kilometers of unobstructed terrain ahead, leaving the Capital Butare defense-less.
By that time, no matter how brave their few thousand mercenaries were, they wouldn't be able to stop six armored brigades.
Whether they could trap Lumar in the Rift Valley Corridor would be key to this battle's success!
Commanding such a large-scale troop operation was also Song Heping's first time.
Nervousness was inevitable.
"Ferrari!"
Song Heping's voice was taut as a steel wire, "Sam-6! Power on! Lock the target airspace! Keep your eyes on the 'Typhoon'! Any step over the line or fire control radar scanning, no need to ask, shoot it down for me! Seal the sky!"
"Received! Radar on! Missiles powered! If the 'Typhoon' dares to come, I'll give them a big rocket show!"
Collins' excited roar came through.
Seconds later, on the independent radar screen, the three groups of Sam-6 search radar beams deployed in different sectors of the rift suddenly lit up, piercing the night sky pointing southeast.
Behind the hills, six triple-mounted Sam-6 launchers hummed hydraulically as the massive missiles slowly rotated, ready to launch!
Ten minutes later, as the 4 'Typhoon' jets entered about 20 kilometers from the Rift Valley Corridor, the 'Typhoon' cockpit radar alarms (RWR) screamed shrilly!
"Alert! Fire control level scan! Bearing 290! Fire control radar lock! Multiple targets!"
The flight leader's voice was shocked and distorted.
"How do they have so many anti-air missiles?! And so fast?!"