Persian Plateau, secret camp.
The encrypted channel indicator light of the satellite phone blinked stubbornly in the dim cave command center, emitting a low, rhythmic buzzing sound.
Song Heping lifted his head from a large map of the Northwest Illinois war zone and rubbed his bloodshot eyes due to prolonged concentration.
On the map, Mosul, Tal Afar, Sinjar, and other places were densely marked with red and blue pencils, arrows, traps, and question marks intertwining into a complex war game map.
He put down the surveying ruler in his hand and picked up the cold handset of the satellite phone.
"Speak."
"Boss, it's me, Henry."
Henry's familiar voice came from the other end of the line, speaking with a touch of heaviness: "The storm in the northwest has passed... the preliminary assessment results are in."
"Go on."
Song Heping's response was extremely concise; what he needed was facts and data, not emotional descriptions.
"Brutal... unprecedentedly brutal."
