He took a few steps forward, placing himself right at the edge of the light beam, approximately five ters away from Shire—a dangerous distance that allowed for a clear observation of subtle expressions and a capacity for lethal reaction in an instant.
"The canning factory has its advantages."
Song Heping's voice remained unaffected: "It's big enough, empty enough, and quiet enough. Echoes are clear here."
He paused, a rather playful smile appearing on his face.
"Most importantly, it's a good place for disposing of bodies—"
He pointed to the factory building opposite him.
"There's even a juicer inside; put a person in, and even the bones can beco fragnts."
"This..."
Shire felt an inexplicable fear.
The few bodyguards around him also appeared tense.
Song Heping raised his hand and made an extrely brief gesture.
"Bang!"
The blinding light overhead suddenly went out!
Shire instantly fell into complete darkness, the white spots left by the light frantically flashing across his retinas.
The intense transition between light and dark made him lose all sense of direction in an instant; his heart pounded wildly, adrenaline surged rapidly, and his hand hanging by his side clenched abruptly, almost reaching for his waist again.
But the next second, there was another gentle click.
This ti, what lit up wasn't a strong light, but above a massive tal workbench next to Song Heping.
Several low-wattage incandescent bulbs emitted a dim, steady, and slightly weak glow, like the eyes of an elderly man at dusk, barely dispelling the dense darkness around the workbench.
The light illuminated the tabletop.
Shire's pupils contracted sharply!
A huge map!
An elaborate military defense map of the Sen Republic covered the entire heavy tal workbench.
The map's detail was suffocating, far surpassing any version DGSE currently possessed.
The scale was precise, with streets, rivers, and buildings depicted in exquisite detail.
It was filled with densely packed markers.
Scarlet pushpins pierced the core areas of the governnt army's positions, with tiny notes indicating the garrison's unit number, estimated personnel, and even the commanders' nas and rotation schedules.
The outer and inner defense circles of the President's Mansion were clearly outlined with different colors of fluorescent markers, and every surveillance cara's location was marked with glaring red dots!
What sent a chill down Shire's spine was that the British Army's advisory group's residence, communication center antenna towers, vehicle dispatch yards, and even several secret communication routes, which he had only scratched the surface of with all DGSE resources, were accurately delineated with thin, icy dotted lines!
This was not just a map. It was a death list custom-made for subversion!
A surgical knife hovering over the throat of the Du Er regi!
Song Heping moved beside the workbench, his figure exceptionally clear in the dim lighting. He extended a finger, steadily resting the fingertip on the icon of an inconspicuous abandoned plantation on Butare's outskirts.
"My knife."
His voice was low and clear, each word striking the tal workbench like cold steel balls, "Three thousand blades, already sharpened."
The fingertip followed a ticulously drawn route with a black fine line, slithering like a Poison Snake—it cleverly utilized the city's sewage system, the rubble of abandoned factory areas, and even a stretch of desolate riverbank.
This route eerily bypassed all major checkpoints and patrol routes, penetrating directly into the map's center, where the heavily outlined President's Mansion was!
"Infiltrate from here."
Song Heping's fingertip heavily tapped the location on the outer periter of the President's Mansion marked as "G4 checkpoint."
"Du Er's Guard, the most formidable elite protecting Butare. But their response ti..."
He lifted his gaze, his eyes piercing Shire like a scalpel.
"Twenty minutes."
Under the dim light, Shire's facial muscles twitched slightly.
Twenty minutes!
This precise, terrifying number ant that their grasp on enemy shift change processes, communication delays, and command chain efficiency had reached a chilling level!
This was not just intelligence; it was the infiltration into the enemy's marrow!
"Twenty minutes."
Song Heping repeated the ti value while his fingertip remained on the scarlet-checkpoint mark, his tone as calm as discussing the weather, "Enough for my blade to press against Du Er's throat."
In the massive factory, only the faint buzz of an old lightbulb's weak current reverberated.
Under the dim light, Shire's heart raced wildly within his chest, not out of fear, but from a dizziness of shock and an uncontrollable thrill!
This plan was bold, mad, a gamble!
Yet precise, thorough, ruthless!
Every tiline, every breach point chosen, like the precise gears of a clock, clamping down hard on the most vulnerable, disordered joint of the enemy's defense system!
This was not a crude rcenary raid; it was a surgical, decapitation strike!
He couldn't help but lean forward a step, his leather shoes making a faint creak as they pressed on the dust and debris-laden floor.
He stared intently at the map's deadly black route and the red dot labeled "G4 checkpoint," trying to discern more details.
The enormous economic welfare brought by the mining distribution plan now seed so petty, short-sighted, even... insignificant, faced with this stark, smoke-filled battle plan.
"The British?"
Shire's voice ca out dry and tense; he jerked his head up, pointing to the area on the map representing the British Army's advisory group communication center, marked with a signal tower icon, "Weber and his people, those guys' eyes and ears are not for show! Once the alert is sounded, even a few minutes in advance, you all will fall into a passive..."
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