The first eting ended in a heavy atmosphere.
After dinner, Haftar arranged for them to rest in a relatively intact two-story building near the command center.
The night fell over the Desert City like ink, replacing the day's bustle with a tense silence.
Gunfire and explosions sporadically echoed from afar, like the groans of a dying beast, further highlighting the vulnerability of this lonely city.
The power supply was intermittent, and the dim ergency lights cast flickering shadows on the walls.
Song Heping was sleepless.
The heavy despair in Haftar's eyes during the day, the alarming red arrows on the map, and the Hunter's icy cost-benefit analysis tangled repeatedly in his mind.
He needed so space, so quiet, to untangle this nearly unsolvable chess match.
Alone, like a lone wolf surveying its territory, he paced silently in this temporary accommodation.
The corridor was deep, the walls cold.
He passed room after room with closed doors, from inside which ca the muffled voices or heavy snores of his rcenaries.
He stopped at a slightly ajar door near the staircase corner.
A strip of dim yellow light slipped through the door crack, accompanied by the soft rustle of pages being turned.
So late, soone was flipping through materials?
Intelligence room?
As if led by an inexplicable force, Song Heping gently pushed the door open.
The room was small, an old wooden desk stood by the window, with an old-fashioned kerosene lamp lit on the tabletop, its glass shade stained yellow.
A camouflage jacket was hung over the chair.
Song Heping recognized the military rank on it; it was Haftar's.
But he seed to not be in the room now.
What caught Song Heping's eye was a book spread open on the desk. In the flickering dim light, its cover was deep blue, with prominent Arabic text printed on it.
Song Heping's pupils suddenly contracted—he had a strong intuition because of its distinctive typography and the length of its title.
He walked closer, his footsteps as light as a cat.
The lamp's glow illuminated the pages.
Seeing the font clearly, Song Heping's eyebrow twitched.
He recognized it was Arabic.
Because over the years he had been in the Middle East and had learned so Arabic writing.
No mistake!
It was Arabic!
The title clearly entered his vision: "On Guerrilla Warfare."
Wow!
There's such a translation?!
Song Heping's heart suddenly thudded, as if struck with a heavy hamr.
In this war-torn, nearly stone-age-blasted Desert City, on the desk of an Arabic veteran general labeled a "warlord" by the Western world, was this book?
This powerful contradiction's impact far surpassed a thousand armies.
He couldn't help but reach out, his fingertips trembling imperceptibly as they gently brushed over the book's rough cover.
The book appeared to have been read countless tis, its corners heavily worn.
He carefully opened the front page.
The paper was yellowed, in addition to the printed Arabic script, there was a handwritten annotation in blue ink, long dried, and written with powerful strokes.
Song Heping's gaze was fixed on this line of Arabic text.
The noise from the dayti—Haftar's angry accusations, desperate sighs, Hunter's cold "cost-benefit" analysis, and the suffocating red arrows on the map—suddenly receded like tide.
Only this line remained, in the dim light, shimring with a wisdom that pierced through ti and fog.
Almost subconsciously, he read the annotation on the front page in clear, low Arabic: "To preserve humanity is to preserve land, and both will endure..."
No sooner than he finished speaking!
A deep, hoarse voice filled with incredulous surprise and a strange resonance abruptly sounded from the doorway:
"To preserve land but lose humanity, both will be lost?"
Song Heping turned sharply!
Haftar was standing at the doorway, having apparently heard the words Song Heping just spoke.
His face, carved with worry and fatigue, now interwoven with extre shock and a near-reverent excitent.
His eyes locked onto Song Heping, and then he swiftly turned his gaze to the open book on the desk, as if recognizing this Eastern rcenary leader for the first ti.
"You know this book?"
Haftar's eyes burned into Song Heping, "This is... back when I opposed Colonel Ka and was wanted, during my exile in Egypt, a friend gave it to . He said, this is a military directive from the East, an unextinguished light against powerful invaders! In those darkest days, and in this... this suffocating despair now, it repeatedly told , as long as people remain, as long as will endures, the land... will be reclaid one day!"
He let out a faint, bitter smile.
"'To preserve humanity is to preserve land, and both will endure'... We are abandoning so peripheral strongholds, consolidating forces, preserving viable strength... precisely to avoid 'to preserve land but lose humanity, both will be lost'! But... but..."
He suddenly lifted his head, looking out at the pitch-black night sky, the boundless darkness seemingly symbolizing the despair as the GNA forces lood.
"I still haven't fully grasped the secret within this book, now finding myself in such a predicant..."
His final words were filled with unwillingness and sorrow.
Song Heping listened quietly, without interrupting.
Haftar's excitent, genuine recognition of the ideas in the book, and his relentless struggle to seek a glimr of hope in despair struck Song Heping like a powerful current, shattering the last bit of hesitation about "cost-benefit" in his heart.
A person who could study "On Guerrilla Warfare" during exiled years, understand the essence of "preserving humanity to preserve land," and still attempt to employ it in such dire circumstances, had resilience and potential far beyond those local warlords concerned only with imdiate oil wells!
The "soul" of this force was still intact!
What it needed was precisely the "strength" the "Musician" could provide!
All it might need is one opportunity.
At the mont when Song Heping's eyes glead with determination—
"Boom—!!"
An ear-piercing explosion, without warning, tore through the dead silent night sky of the Desert City!
The blast point was very close to this building, the terrifying shockwave struck the walls hard like an invisible giant hamr!
The whole building shook violently, the roof and wall dust and debris cascaded down like torrential rain!
The lamp on the desk was suddenly flipped over, the glass shattered, the fla extinguished instantly! The room plunged into darkness!
"Enemy attack!!"
The corridor erupted with Disaster Star's thunderous roar: "Direction Southeast! RPG! All units to combat positions!!"
Following that, concentrated and precise automatic rifle fire sounded like popcorn!
Not the splashy fire of the LNA soldiers' usual AK-47s, but extrely professional, rhythmically precise, and deadly efficient short bursts!
Bullets whizzed through windows, hitting walls and furniture inside, with muffled thuds, sparking showers of debris!
"This isn't ordinary ard militants, it's Special Forces!"
Song Heping's gaze turned as icy as polar ice amid the aftermath of the explosion and choking smoke.
Haftar, too, was thrown off balance by the massive explosion's shockwave, but his reaction was swift, he roared "Take cover!" while leaping towards the wall, swiftly grabbing an AKMSU short assault rifle leaning against the bookcase.
Outside the window, by the explosion's montary firelight and a house set ablaze nearby, several shadows could be seen using an extrely agile, mutually supportive tactical formation to quickly advance from the southeastern ruins!
Their movents were clean and neat, their coordination flawless, equipped with rifles fitted with silencers and advanced optical sights, wearing dark combat uniforms suited for nightti operations, faces sared with camouflage paint.
Standard SBS (British Royal Navy Special Boat Service) combat style! Their target was extrely clear—headed straight for the small building where Song Heping was!
MI6's assassination launched boldly at the mont Song Heping made the final decision!
To manage to infiltrate the city unnoticed and suddenly launch an attack at the location of your stay, Desert City seed indeed to be infiltrated like a sieve!
More importantly, expert Special Forces like SBS would never rashly enter a heavily guarded enemy town without assurance to carry out a raid.
Desert City, was no longer safe!
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