Persian Plateau, Song Heping's temporary command point.
The satellite communication indicator flashed with a steady green light, like a cold, indifferent eye.
Song Heping's fingers rapidly typed the final command on the keyboard, sending the encrypted and compressed list file through several virtual hop nodes, eventually reaching an anonymous cloud storage point controlled by Henry on the Dark Web.
The whole process took less than three minutes but seed to drain the last remnants of his energy after a sleepless night.
He leaned back against the cold, rough rock wall, closed his eyes, letting the highland's cold, piercing air stimulate his overused nerves, attempting to dispel the moral chill that he could not entirely ignore from his heart.
He knew that the mont he pressed the "send" button, it was as if he had opened the valve to a giant storm, releasing unimaginable bloodshed and death.
Next, countless people would lose their lives because of this, among them perhaps innocent informants caught in the crossfire.
This is the cruel law of war, where there is no place for rcy, only the cold calculations of interest and the fierce competition for survival.
In the end, he abandoned that slight hesitation, focusing all his attention on the upcoming steps.
A few minutes later, Henry's encrypted satellite phone call ca through.
"Boss, received. The content... is shocking."
Henry's voice ca through the encrypted channel, carrying a hint of dryness that was hard to detect.
Obviously, he had quickly browsed part of the content.
"I'll disseminate it through those marked 'ghost channels' right away. The 1515 lunatics often recruit on those extremist forums and issue their so-called edicts; their intelligence scavengers are surely watching those places like vultures."
"Be quick, make it impossible for them to ignore, impossible to doubt."
Song Heping took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and said, "We must act before the CIA reacts and get the 1515 ard group to take action."
"Understood. I'll ensure it spreads throughout their Dark Web corners at the fastest speed."
Henry paused, unable to resist asking another question, with professional cautiousness, "Boss, the list... how reliable is it? I an, the intelligence obtained through interrogation, what if there's a trap or..."
"Interrogation-derived intelligence is bound to have impurities and errors, but the core part is likely true."
Song Heping interrupted him, with an assertive tone, "The information John Keller revealed under physiological and psychological limits couldn't be systematically fabricated; the cost would be too high, and the CIA wouldn't bother equipping a decoy team for a one-ti trial mission with such detailed and real high-value network data. Even if there are so errors or outdated information, that's sothing for 1515 and the CIA to worry about. Execute."
"Yes!"
The call ended.
The cave returned to its silence, with only the eternal howling of the highland wind.
Song Heping opened his eyes, once again focusing on the screenshot of the list displayed on the tablet.
Each na, codena, and address was like an inscription on a tombstone. He knew that the gates of Hell had just been violently pushed open by his own hands.
Northwest Illinois, a reinforced underground command post.
Baghdadi, the self-proclaid "Caliph," sat cross-legged on a thick, luxurious Persian carpet, with religious scriptures and a symbolic sword beside him.
A young subordinate adept at network technology lay prostrate on the ground, reporting excitedly yet fearfully, holding up a tablet high.
"Honorable, Allah-blessed Caliph, we found this deep in the encrypted sub-forum of the 'Lion of Holy War' forum! It's like an apocalypse!"
The subordinate's voice trembled with excitent, "The poster has an untraceable ghost IP, but the content inside... it's imnsely detailed, straight to the heart!"
Baghdadi, dressed in his iconic black robe, with a black turban, had his expression partly hidden by a dense beard.
He slowly accepted the tablet, his eyes concealed beneath thick brows displaying the usual ruthlessness and suspicion, beginning to carefully scan the screen.
Initially, he was sowhat indifferent, even contemptuous — every day, countless indistinguishable rumors, traps, and false intelligence swarm the internet like flies.
But soon, his lazily sweeping gaze froze, his body slightly leaned forward, brows tightly knit into a sharp crease.
The list not only clearly listed nas, codenas, and highly detailed addresses, disguised professions, usual contact thods, including frequency and ti slots, but even so key individuals' physical characteristics and most-driven vehicle models!
The scope covered important strategic towns and crucial villages and transport nodes in the northwest, like Mosul, Tal Afar, and Sinjar.
When he saw a covert agent codenad "History Teacher," whose marked safe house address was less than five kiloters in a straight line from his command post, a chilling sensation shot up from his spine to the back of his head, and a sensation of cold sweat ford on his back!
Another informant codenad "Oil rchant" frequently appeared at a weekly market near one of his spare hideouts!
And an agent codenad "Desert Fox" was frequently described driving a specific year's white Toyota Hilux pickup between checkpoints — and only yesterday, his personal guards had routinely let such a vehicle pass!
"This is... a Poison Snake's web woven by the CIA intelligence agencies! They're right beside our bed!"
Baghdadi's voice beca hoarse and low, tinged with extre anger and fear.
He felt like he had unknowingly been walking naked amid a nest of hidden poisonous snakes, with every cold eye secretly watching!
"Source of the ssage?! How is its authenticity confird?!"
He abruptly looked up, his gaze, like a poisoned sword, shot toward his subordinate, filled with the paranoia characteristic of a suspicious organizational leader.
"No... no way to verify the ultimate source, honorable Caliph."
The subordinate was so frightened that he nearly buried his head in the carpet.
"But... but so information in the list matches our security departnt's previous scattered but unproven suspicions... like this 'Oil rchant'; we've indeed found his movents and reports sowhat unusual before but lacked evidence..."
"Verify! Imdiately!"
Baghdadi slamd the tablet heavily onto the low table, roaring angrily, his voice shaking the walls.
"Imdiately! Right now! Dispatch our elite team, verify each one according to this list! Prioritize those closest to our core area!"
"Yes!"
The subordinate responded imdiately.
Baghdadi paused, his eyes flashing the cruelty unique to extremist groups, with a determination to kill rather than let any go: "Once identities are verified, or there's substantial suspicion, no need for authorization, imdiately capture them! If t with any form of resistance, authorize to execute on the spot! Eliminate all hidden threats! For the glory of Allah, these demons hidden in our hearts' core must be uprooted, their blood cleansing our land!"
This blood-soaked order, like the deadliest plague virus, instantly spread wildly through encrypted radios, couriers, and word of mouth, reaching every town, village, and checkpoint under the 1515 black flag's control in Northwest Illinois.
The entire 1515 security machinery was completely activated by this sudden "heaven-sent" list, plunging into a near-fanatical purge storm.
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