"Ms. M wants us to disappear, very well. Let's see who makes whose core interests disappear faster and more thoroughly."
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the other core mbers of the company in the room.
"Our target is Britain's lifeline in Libya — oil."
Song Heping's laser pointer landed on the Ras Lanuf port.
"This is the root of their ddling in Libya, it's their most sensitive nerve. Cut it off, or let it change hands, then only will the gentlen in London truly feel the pain during the tremors in the Financial City."
He Linsi imdiately operated on the tablet, the big screen lit up with a complex intelligence analysis chart.
"Confird."
His voice was without any fluctuation.
"The oil interests of giants like BP and Shell in Sidera Bay are Britain's strategic lifeline. The three major terminals — Ras Lanuf, Brega, and Sidera — control nearly 70% of Libya's export capacity and are currently under GNA control, with Western naval forces providing 'peacekeeping' cover. GNA is Britain's proxy in Libya."
Ferrari added, "Market data clearly shows that Libyan oil is crucial to Britain's energy security. Any fluctuations at these ports will directly strike Brent oil prices and shake Britain's economy. To hit here is to hit Britain's national wallet."
"So, to strike a snake, you must hit seven inches!"
He licked his cracked lips and started to smile.
"Haftar is the best knife; using him to cut the British is most fitting! They are naturally at odds with the British, with the backing of Egypt, UAE, and even Russia lurking behind them. This ard group harbors great ambitions, but their current capabilities don't match their ambitions; cooperation with us is their only way out."
Song Heping nodded slightly, the laser pointer's light moved to Haftar's forces' deep blue-controlled regions.
"Their leader, Haftar, is a pragmatic military man with roots, ambition, and opposition to extremism. This is in stark contrast to the mixed bag within the GNA."
"His objectives align closely with our strategy to undermine British interests. Supporting him will heavily damage Britain and also lay a potential foundation for our future layout in Libya."
His tone suddenly turned, his gaze becoming as precise as a scalpel.
"But his forces' current equipnt is a mishmash, all outdated, with tactics at the level of guerrilla warfare. They can manage ambushes but direct assaults on heavily guarded ports and oil fields, protected by Western intelligence and potential air cover? They are out of their depth."
"Therefore, our intervention must be surgical."
Song Heping held up two fingers, "First, weapons. Massive, systematic heavy equipnt that can quickly form combat capabilities. Second, training. A core strike force that can skillfully use these equipnt and execute complex assault missions."
Collins quickly projected a detailed weapons list onto the big screen.
"Boss, with funds in place, arms aren't a bottleneck. Our arms trade channels are mature, especially in the Middle East, transporting them here is no problem. Now what Haftar urgently needs—"
Armored strike forces: Refurbished T-72 tanks, BMP-1/2 fighting vehicles. Robust and desert-suitable. Quantity: At least one reinforced company (30 units).
Artillery support: D-30 122mm howitzer, BM-21 "Hail" rocket artillery. Key suppression fire. Quantity: Artillery company (6-8 units), rocket artillery company (4-6 units).
Anti-armor/anti-aircraft: Nurous RPG-7s, anti-tank missiles (AT-4/Milan); ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft guns (flat weaponry), portable air-defense missiles.
Light weapons and ammunition: AK series, PKM machine guns, SVD sniper rifles, and a massive amount of ammunition.
Logistical support: Fuel tankers, ammo trucks, maintenance vehicles. Essential.
"The list packs a punch!"
Henry looked at the list, his face showing a trace of concern.
"But how do we get it into Haftar's hands? The British must be watching Egypt like a hawk!"
"Not going through Egypt."
Song Heping spoke coldly, his laser pointer directed at the border with Northern Darfur adjacent to Libya on the sand table.
"Utilize our 'special relationship' with Isis and the concealnt of the Rock Base. Arms landed at Sudan Port or the Somaliland coast, or even detour to West Africa, landing in Angola, then through our controlled smuggling network, disintegrate and use heavy desert trucks to cross no man's land, directly delivering into Haftar's eastern Libyan stronghold."
"Although this route is long and arduous, this ant-moving mode of smuggling is beyond Britain's reach, and satellites find it difficult to track every small convoy. The risk is along the way from tribal ard groups and bandits."
"I'll handle the escort!" White Bear thumped his chest, full of murderous intent, "I'll personally lead, with our most elite teams, ard pickups paving the way, heavy machine guns laying down the formation! Whoever dares to lay hands will get shot along with their cals!"
"Good."
Song Heping nodded.
"Nura can definitely help with this, when the ti cos, go find her, let her collaborate with you to draft the escort plan."
Then he pointed to the 'Rock' base on the sand table.
"Secretly select 300-500 key mbers from Haftar's most elite and loyal forces. Let them disguise as 'tribal ard forces' or 'caravan escort', small groups in batches, crossing the Northern Darfur border into our base for 3-6 months of devilish intensive training."
"The instructor team will be personally led by Jiang Feng."
Song Heping's gaze landed on his trusted lieutenant.
"I want you to forge a formidable iron fist with the fastest speed! This team will be the vanguard and mainstay in the future battle for the oil ports! It will be the blade stabbed into the core hearts of the GNA and the British!"
"Understood, old squad leader!"
Jiang Feng's eyes burned with almost a fanatical fighting spirit, as if returning to his military days.
"I will use the training plan we had back in the training squad to squeeze out every drop of oil from their bones! Let them know that learning from us for three months is worth ten years of aimless wandering in the desert! When they return, they'll be the best blades capable of tearing everything apart!"
Song Heping's gaze returned to the sand table, staring at the eastern Libyan coastline where black gold lay hidden.
Ras Lanuf, Brega, Sidera...
In his eyes, these nas have already transford into the pulse of the London Financial City, the expensive price tag required for Ms. M's "elimination" order on her desk.
"Operation code: 'Cut-off'."
Song Heping's voice echoed in the room like a winter weld seam.
"Cut Britain's oil lifeline, make Ms. M and her colleagues in London pay the steepest economic and political price for their arrogance. Arms procurent and transport routes, White Bear and Nura, formulate detailed plans and contingency plans within 72 hours. Training outlines and personnel selection, Ferrari and Jiang Feng, present a plan within 48 hours. The first batch of core personnel must secretly reach the base for training within a month."
He forcefully clapped the chief.
"We are pressed for ti. While the British are still indulging in Victorian Era dreams of manipulating the chessboard? Thinking encrypted telegrams and concealed agents can solve everything?"
Song Heping's lips curled into a chillingly extre arc, devoid of laughter, only a murderous aura of iron and blood.
"Let the loss of real gold and silver wake them up. On this chessboard, the ones setting rules and delivering deadly moves are us, not them!"
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