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 seemed 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 moment he pressed the "send" button, it was as if he had opened the valve to a giant storm, releasing unimaginable bloodshed and death.
