Northern Sen Republic, General Lumar's front-line command post.

It's more of a sturdy fortress built within an abandoned mine than a command post.

The mine tunnel deep in the mountain has been temporarily set up as the command center and barracks, with sandbags and thick logs piled at the entrance, heavy machine guns mounted.

The air inside the cave is murky, filled with the smell of sweat, cheap tobacco, and engine oil. Under the dim emergency lights, the staff officers are gathered around a massive wooden map table, covered with scratches and stains, the atmosphere oppressive like the calm before a storm.

In the center of the command post, General Lumar is like a lion trapped in an iron cage.

He is robust, wearing a camouflage uniform stained with mud, the stars on his shoulders dull under the dim light.

His hands are pressed against the table edge, knuckles white from the force, bloodshot eyes glaring at the old television screen hanging on the rock wall.

On the screen, Du Er's tear-streaked face and his hoarse, desperate resignation speech are being repeated over and over.

"Coward! Useless!!"

Lumar suddenly bursts out with a roar like an injured beast, shaking dust from the cave ceiling.

He grabs a heavy iron ashtray at hand and hurls it at the television screen!

"Bang—Crash!"

The screen shatters with a response, turning black.

Du Er's humiliating face finally disappears, leaving only a few distorted electric sparks flickering in the darkness.

The ashtray falls to the ground with a dull thud.

The entire command post is instantly silent, all the officers holding their breath, as silent as winter cicadas.

Lumar's chest heaves violently, the heavy breathing clear in the silent cave.

He suddenly turns, his bloodshot eyes sweeping over the staff standing still by the map table, his gaze fierce, as if ready to devour.

"All mute?! Talk!!"

He roars, spittle nearly spraying the face of the nearest Major.

"What did the British say? What about those fence-sitters from the African Union?! Where are our 'allies'?! Where is the promised support?! Where the hell is it?!"

An oppressive silence.

Only the weak electric current from the emergency lamp buzzes faintly.

Finally, the intelligence officer, a bespectacled and pale-faced Captain, bravely steps forward, reporting dryly: "General… London says… they are actively engaging in 'the most active diplomatic mediation' with the UN and African Union levels, urging 'international community pressure'… but… but the proposal to form a peacekeeping force… has been temporarily… shelved in the Security Council due to French opposition…"

"Shelved?!"

Lumar's voice rises sharply, with incredulous rage, "What the hell does shelved mean?! What about the promised military support?!"

"British Special Forces and the Royal Marine Corps have moved into the Sahel Region…"

The operations officer cautiously adds, "But… General… they haven't entered Sena, because the land route closest is through Sudan's Darfur Region, which is… Song Heping's territory… However, they say it's already a deterrent…"

"Deterrent? What's the damn use of that!! Does Song Heping fear deterrence?! He's someone who dares to kill Delta!"

Lumar kicks away a folding chair nearby, the metal crashing into the rock wall with a piercing noise.

"Hundreds of kilometers away for sightseeing?!"

He rages, waving his arms wildly, "We're here enduring the insurgents' artillery fire! Du Er that fool is finished! Isis's puppet sits in the President's Mansion! And us?! We've become their 'rebels'!!"

He points to the northern region marked as "rebel-controlled" by the Isis side on the map, his finger trembling fiercely in anger.

"General, we still have six brigades!"

A young Major, his face showing the marks of battle smoke, couldn't help but speak up, his eyes burning with unyielding fire.

"The terrain in the northern mountains is complex, easy to defend, hard to attack! The government army's tanks can't drive up! As long as we can secure the supply lines, hang on! Hang on until international pressure is sufficient! Hang on until the British and Americans have to intervene! Hang on until those fence-sitters from the African Union see the wind direction clearly! We have a chance to turn it around!"

"Hang on?"

Lumar suddenly turns his head, his bloodshot eyes locking onto this young officer, a gaze as if to consume.

He steps closer, heavy military boots crunching on the gravel ground, the enormous pressure making the Major involuntarily take a step back.

"Hang on with what?! Hmm?!"

Lumar's voice is like sandpaper grinding, hoarse and full of hostility, "How long can our ammunition last?! The medicine?! The food?! The soldiers' morale?! Look outside!"

He abruptly points towards the direction of the mine entrance, as if he could penetrate the thick rock wall to see the exhausted, desperate soldiers outside.

"Song Heping's drones are buzzing over us like flies! His men infiltrate like phantoms! He has cut off three of our supply lines! The crappy agreement Du Er signed made all international aid flow to Isis's side! We've been abandoned by the whole world! We're the meat on his chopping board!!"

He grabs the Major's collar, almost lifting him off the ground, spittle spraying on his face: "Turn it around? Opportunity?! I'm telling you! Our only 'opportunity' now is to gamble! Bet the British and Americans won't abandon West Africa's juicy chunk! Bet the French can't support Isis's hollow framework! Bet the African Union won't withstand the pressure and will send troops! Bet Song Heping doesn't dare really push me to the end, to burn together!!"

Lumar fiercely pushes the Major away.

The Major staggers, crashing into the rock wall, his face pale.

Lumar breathes heavily, like a trapped beast on the verge of madness, pacing back and forth in the cramped command post, each step heavy enough to crush the ground.

"Transmit the order!"

He suddenly stopped, his voice carrying a kind of do-or-die determination, "Retract the defense line! Abandon all outer strongholds! Concentrate forces to firmly guard Core Defense Zones One and Two! Drag out all the heavy weapons from the warehouse for me! Mines, trap mines, fill all the passageways! Tell every soldier that behind us is a cliff! There's no retreat! Either hold on and wait for a turn! Or..."

His eyes flashed with a near-furious craziness, "Take down enough enemies with us and descend into Hell together!"

The consultants' faces turned pale, looking at each other, finally responding in unison, "Yes, General!"

The orders quickly spread.

From deep in the mine came the chaotic running of soldiers and the metallic clashing of weapons, a ferocity laced with desperation forced to the brink.

General Lumar returned to the map table, his calloused fingers pressed heavily on the marked red area labeled "rebels," his fingers trembling slightly.

He's gambling.

Betting that international intervention will be like a hammer from heaven, shattering Song Heping's plans.

He doesn't know how much longer he can hold out, but he has no choice.

Either win back everything, or... shatter to pieces.

Sen Capital, President's Mansion.

Though the gruesome sight of the main building's spire being blown off still haunted the scene, some core areas inside have been rapidly cleared out, barely restoring basic functionality.

Isis sat in a temporarily arranged, relatively tidy office.

The fatigue on his face was hard to conceal, but his eyes were exceptionally resolute, even carrying a hint of sharpness.

Opposite him sat two men in neatly ironed dark suits, sharp in demeanor; they were senior special commissioners from France's DGSE (Directorate-General for External Security).

"President Isis."

The older commissioner, codenamed "Leon," spoke in a deep and magnetic voice, carrying the elegance typical of France.

"First, allow me, on behalf of the French Republic, to offer you the sincerest congratulations and support."

He slightly bowed.

Isis nodded, a reserved and restrained smile appearing on his face: "Thanks to the French Republic and DGSE for the valuable support at this crucial moment."

She implicitly referred to DGSE launching a powerful public opinion campaign through AFP and other channels, depicting the Duer Government as worthless, while attiring her with the mantle of "lawful heir" and "hope for peace."

"It's what we should do, Mr. President."

Leon smiled slightly, speaking bluntly: "The friendship between your family and our country, along with our shared interests, are worthy of our joint defense."

He changed the topic, turning serious and concerned, "Currently, your primary task is to consolidate power and stabilize the domestic situation. We noticed that General Lumar and the rebel forces he controls are still resisting staunchly in the east, posing a serious threat to your authority. Simultaneously, UK and US diplomatic pressure and military deterrence also hang like the Sword of Damocles over your head."

He leaned slightly forward, eyes fixed on Isis: "DGSE can provide deeper intelligence support, assisting you in grasping detailed deployments, supply conditions, and internal movements of Lumar's rebel forces. We can also leverage our special channels in the West Africa region to influence Lumar, cutting off any external aid he might receive. Naturally, all this will be conducted in the most discreet manner possible, to ensure it doesn't damage your government's image and international reputation."

Isis listened carefully, absent-mindedly tapping her fingers lightly on the smooth tabletop.

She knows the French support isn't a free lunch; they value Sen's rich mineral resources and its strategic pivot in West Africa.

But at this moment, she needs this strong external aid.

"Intelligence support is crucial."

Isis spoke, her voice clear and calm, "Lumar is the most stubborn faction of the remnants of the previous regime; his existence is a huge disruption to national stability. As for external pressure..."

A barely perceptible glimmer flashed in her eyes, "I believe the international community will eventually see the truth. The African Union's attitude will be key."

"You're absolutely right."

The younger commissioner beside Leon chimed in, codenamed "Marseille," appearing more proficient in operational aspects, "The African Union is not a monolith. We are actively mediating, utilizing historical ties and economic cooperation links, striving for more African countries to understand and support your legitimate government. I believe with our influence in Africa, this won't be difficult to achieve."

"Especially those countries also facing internal instability; they can better appreciate the importance of a government dedicated to stability. Lumar previously came to power through a coup, long branded as 'rebels,' which already lost much on moral grounds internationally."

Isis understood.

The French were not only helping her in public opinion but also privately dividing and pulling African Union member countries apart, attempting to thwart UK and US plans to urge African Union military intervention.

This is an invisible diplomatic war without gunfire.

"Thank you very much for your comprehensive support." Isis stood up, reaching out her hand, "The people of Sen will remember true friends. Currently, stabilizing the order in the capital and surrounding areas, restoring basic livelihood, and exposing the destructive acts of Lumar's rebel forces is my work focus. Specific counter-rebellion actions..."

Her words were not completed, but her gaze already indicated, the military action's control is currently firmly in another person's hands.

Leon and Marseille understood, standing to shake hands with Isis.

"We completely understand, Mr. President. As for Mr. Song, we'll coordinate with him, rest assured, we wish you all the best."

Both bowed slightly, bid farewell, and left.

The office door closed gently.

Isis slowly sat back in the chair, the previous resoluteness and composure fading away, deep fatigue welled up.

He rubbed his temples, his gaze falling on the city scene outside, still shrouded in smoke and ruins.

The title of president is as heavy as a mountain, the French support is like a thorned rose. The real test has just begun.

Whether he can navigate the domestic chaos, balance all forces, actually hinges on that man from the East.

And that person is currently the real Emperor of the Sen Republic.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com